kable in that, my child," said the woman.

"Yes, but it's strange to see so many wagons with the same name on
them," replied the girl as she left the caravan.

Perrine found the donkey with his nose buried in the straw, which he was
eating calmly.

"Why, you're letting him eat it!" she cried to the boy.

"Well, why not?" he retorted.

"And if the man is angry?"

"He'd better not be with me," said the small boy, putting himself in a
position to fight and throwing his head back.

But his prowess was not to be brought into action, for at this moment
the custom officer began to search the cart of straw, and then gave
permission for it to pass on through the Gates of Paris.

"Now it's your turn," said the boy, "and I'll have to leave you.
Goodbye, Mademoiselle. If you ever want news of me ask for Double Fat.
Everybody knows me."

The employes who guard the entrances of Paris are accustomed to strange
sights, yet the man who went into Perrine's caravan looked surprised
when he found a young woman lying on a mattress, and even more surprised
when his hasty glance revealed to him the extreme poverty of her
surroundings.

"Have you anything to declare?" he asked, continuing his investigations.

"Nothing."

"No wine, no provisions?"

"Nothing."

This was only too true; apart from the mattress, the two cane chairs, a
little table, a tiny stove, a camera and a few photographic supplies,
there was nothing in this wagon; no trunks, no baskets, no clothes....

"All right; you can pass," said the man.

Once through the Gates, Perrine, holding Palikare by the bridle,
followed the stretch of grass along the embankment. In the brown, dirty
grass she saw rough looking men lying on their backs or on their
stomachs. She saw now the class of people who frequent this spot. From
the very air of these men, with their bestial, criminal faces, she
understood why it would be unsafe for them to be there at night. She
could well believe that their knives would be in ready use.

Looking towards the city, she saw nothing but dirty streets and filthy
houses. So this was Paris, the beautiful Paris of which her father had
so often spoken. With one word she made her donkey go faster, then
turning to the left she inquired for the Guillot Field.

If everyone knew where it was situated, no two were of the same opinion
as to which road she should take to get there, and several times, in
trying to follow the various directions which were