Grain-of-Salt and the stranger turned down a narrow street and stopped at a wine shop. They sat down at one of the tables outside on the pavement and ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses. Perrine remained by the curb, still holding her donkey. "You'll see if he isn't cunning," said Grain-of-Salt, holding out his full glass. Palikare stretched out his neck, thinned his lips and quickly drank the half glass of wine. But this feat did not give La Rouquerie any particular satisfaction. "I don't want him to drink my wine, but to drag my cart with the rabbit skins," she said. "Didn't I just tell you that he came from Greece, draggin' a wagon the whole way?" "Ah, that's another thing!" The strange looking woman carefully examined the animal; then she gave the greatest attention to every detail; then asked Perrine how much she wanted for him. The price which Perrine had arranged with her landlord beforehand was one hundred francs. This was the sum that she asked. La Rouquerie gave a cry of amazement. One hundred francs! Sell a donkey without any guarantee for that sum! Were they crazy? Then she began to find all kind of faults with the unfortunate Palikare. "Oh, very well," said Grain-of-Salt, after a lengthy discussion; "we'll take him to the Market." Perrine breathed. The thought of only getting twenty francs had stunned her. In their terrible distress what would twenty francs be? A hundred francs even was not sufficient for their pressing needs. "Let's see if he'll go in any more now than he did then," cried La Rouquerie. Palikare followed Perrine up to the Market gates obediently, but once there he stopped short. She insisted, and talked, and pulled at the rope, but it was no use. Finally he sat down in the middle of the street. "Palikare, do come! Do come, dear Palikare," Perrine said, imploringly. But he sat there as though he did not understand a word of what she was saying. A crowd gathered round and began to jeer. "Set fire to his tail," cried one. Grain-of-Salt was furious, Perrine in despair. "You see he won't go in," cried La Rouquerie. "I'll give thirty francs, that's ten more'n I said, 'cause his cunning shows that this donkey is a good boy, but hurry up and take the money or I'll buy another." Grain-of-Salt consulted Perrine with a glance; he made her a sign that she ought to accept the offer. But she seemed stunned at such a fraud. She was standing there undecided when a policeman told her roughly that she was blocking up the street and that she must move on. "Go forward, or go back, but don't stand there," he ordered. She could not go forward, for Palikare had no intention of doing so. As soon as he understood that she had given up all hope of getting him into the Market, he got up and followed her docilely, agitating his long ears with satisfaction.