From now on the traffic was intense. Perrine needed all her wits and eyes about her. After what seemed a long time they arrived at the Market and Grain-of-Salt jumped off the donkey. But while he was getting down Palikare had time to gaze about him, and when Perrine tried to make him go through the iron gate at the entrance he refused to budge. He seemed to know by instinct that this was a market where horses and donkeys were sold. He was afraid. Perrine coaxed him, commanded him, begged him, but he still refused to move. Grain-of-Salt thought that if he pushed him from behind he would go forward, but Palikare, who would not permit such familiarity, backed and reared, dragging Perrine with him. There was already a small circle of onlookers around them. In the first row, as usual, there were messenger boys and errand boys, each giving his word of advice as to what means to use to force the donkey through the gate. "That there donkey is going to give some trouble to the fool who buys him," cried one. These were dangerous words that might affect the sale, so Grain-of-Salt thought he ought to say something. "He's the cleverest donkey that ever was!" he cried. "He knows he's going to be sold, and he's doin' this 'cause he loves us and don't want ter leave us!" "Are you so sure of that, Grain-of-Salt?" called out a voice in the crowd. "Zooks! who knows my name here?" cried the one addressed. "Don't you recognize La Rouquerie?" "My faith, that's so," he cried, as the speaker came forward. They shook hands. "That donkey yours?" "No; it belongs to this little gal." "Do you know anything about it?" "We've had more than one glass together, and if you want a good donkey I'll speak for him." "I need one and yet I don't need one," said La Rouquerie. "Well, come and take a drink. 'Tain't worthwhile to pay for a place in the Market...." "Especially if he won't budge!" "I told you he was a smart one; he's that intelligent." "If I buy him it's not for his tricks nor 'cause he can take a drink with one, but he must work." "He can work, sure! He's come all the way from Greece without stopping." "From Greece!" Grain-of-Salt made a sign to Perrine to follow him, and Palikare, now that he knew that he was not going into the market, trotted beside her docilely. She did not even have to pull his rope. Who was this prospective buyer? A man? A woman? From the general appearance and the hairless face it might be a woman of about fifty, but from the clothes, which consisted of a workingman's blouse and trousers and a tall leather hat like a coachman wears, and from the short, black pipe which the individual was smoking, it surely was a man. But whatever it was, Perrine decided that the person looked kind. The expression was not hard or wicked.