Nobody's Girl (En Famille)

Hector Malot

Description

pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. It was Saturday afternoon about 3 o'clock. There was the usual scene; outside the Gates of Bercy there was a crowd of people, and on the quays, four rows deep, carts and wagons were massed together. Coal carts, carts heaped with hay and straw, all were waiting in the clear, warm June sunshine for the examination from the custom official. All had been hurrying to reach Paris before Sunday.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819915157
• Langue: English

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CHAPTER I
PERRINE AND PALIKARE
It was Saturday afternoon about 3 o'clock. There wasthe usual scene; outside the Gates of Bercy there was a crowd ofpeople, and on the quays, four rows deep, carts and wagons weremassed together. Coal carts, carts heaped with hay and straw, allwere waiting in the clear, warm June sunshine for the examinationfrom the custom official. All had been hurrying to reach Parisbefore Sunday.
Amongst the wagons, but at some little distance fromthe Gates, stood an odd looking cart, a sort of caravan. Over alight frame work which was erected on four wheels was stretched aheavy canvas; this was fastened to the light roof which covered thewagon. Once upon a time the canvas might have been blue, but it wasso faded, so dirty and worn, that one could only guess what itsoriginal color had been. Neither was it possible to make out theinscriptions which were painted on the four sides. Most of thewords were effaced. On one side there was a Greek word, the nextside bore part of a German word, on the third side were the lettersF I A, which was evidently Italian, and on the last a newly paintedFrench word stood out boldly. This was PHOTOGRAPHIE , and wasevidently the translation of all the others, indicating thedifferent countries through which the miserable wagon had comebefore it had entered France and finally arrived at the Gates ofParis.
Was it possible that the donkey that was harnessedto it had brought the cart all this distance? At first glance itseemed impossible, but although the animal was tired out, one couldsee upon a closer view that it was very robust and much bigger thanthe donkeys that one sees in Europe. Its coat was a beautiful darkgrey, the beauty of which could be seen despite the dust whichcovered it. Its slender legs were marked with jet black lines, andworn out though the poor beast was, it still held its head high.The harness, worthy of the caravan, was fastened together withvarious colored strings, short pieces, long pieces, just what wasat hand at the moment; the strings had been carefully hidden underthe flowers and branches which had been gathered along the roadsand used to protect the animal from the sun and the flies.
Close by, seated on the edge of the curb, watchingthe donkey, was a little girl of about thirteen years of age. Hertype was very unusual, but it was quite apparent that there was amixture of race. The pale blond of her hair contrasted strangelywith the deep, rich coloring of her cheeks, and the sweetexpression of her face was accentuated by the dark, serious eyes.Her mouth also was very serious. Her figure, slim and full ofgrace, was garbed in an old, faded check dress, but the shabby oldfrock could not take away the child's distinguished air.
As the donkey had stopped just behind a large cartof straw, it would not have required much watching, but every nowand again he pulled out the straw, in a cautious manner, like avery intelligent animal that knows quite well that it is doingwrong. "Palikare! stop that!" said the girl for the third time.
The donkey again dropped his head in a guiltyfashion, but as soon as he had eaten his wisps of straw he began toblink his eyes and agitate his ears, then again discreetly, buteagerly, tugged at what was ahead of him; this in a manner thattestified to the poor beast's hunger.
While the little girl was scolding him, a voice fromwithin the caravan called out: "Perrine!"
Jumping to her feet, the child lifted up the canvasand passed inside, where a pale, thin woman was lying on amattress. "Do you need me, mama?" "What is Palikare doing, dear?"asked the woman. "He is eating the straw off the cart that's aheadof us." "You must stop him." "He's so hungry." "Hunger is not anexcuse for taking what does not belong to us. What will you say tothe driver of that cart if he's angry?" "I'll go and see thatPalikare doesn't do it again," said the little girl. "Shall we soonbe in Paris?" "Yes, we are waiting for the customs." "Have we muchlonger to wait?" "No, but are you in more pain, mother?" "Don'tworry, darling; it's because I'm closed in here," replied thewoman, gasping. Then she smiled wanly, hoping to reassure herdaughter.
The woman was in a pitiable plight. All her strengthhad gone and she could scarcely breathe. Although she was onlyabout twenty-nine years of age, her life was ebbing away. Therestill remained traces of remarkable beauty: Her head and hair werelovely, and her eyes were soft and dark like her daughter's. "ShallI give you something?" asked Perrine. "What?" "There are some shopsnear by. I can buy a lemon. I'll come back at once." "No, keep themoney. We have so little. Go back to Palikare and stop him fromeating the straw." "That's not easy," answered the little girl.
She went back to the donkey and pushed him on hishaunches until he was out of reach of the straw in front ofhim.
At first the donkey was obstinate and tried to pushforward again, but she spoke to him gently and stroked him, andkissed him on his nose; then he dropped his long ears with evidentsatisfaction and stood quite still.
There was no occasion to worry about him now, so sheamused herself with watching what was going on around her.
A little boy about her own age, dressed up like aclown, and who evidently belonged to the circus caravans standingin the rear, had been strolling round her for ten long minutes,without being able to attract her attention. At last he decided tospeak to her. "That's a fine donkey," he remarked.
She did not reply. "It don't belong to this country.If it does, I'm astonished."
She was looking at him, and thinking that after allhe looked rather like a nice boy, she thought she would reply. "Hecomes from Greece," she said. "Greece!" he echoed. "That's why he'scalled Palikare." "Ah! that's why."
But in spite of his broad grin he was not at allsure why a donkey that came from Greece should be called Palikare."Is it far ... Greece?" "Very far." "Farther than ... China?" "No,but it's a long way off." "Then yer come from Greece, then?" "No,farther than that." "From China?" "No, but Palikare's the only onethat comes from Greece." "Are you going to the Fair?" "No." "Whereyer goin'?" "Into Paris." "I know that, but where yer goin' to putup that there cart?" "We've been told that there are some freeplaces round the fortifications."
The little clown slapped his thighs with his twohands. "The fortifications: Oh la la! " "Isn't there anyplace?" "Yes." "Well, then?" "It ain't the place for you ... roundthe fortifications! Have yer got any men with yer? Big strong menwho are not afraid of a stab from a dagger. One who can give a jabas well as take one." "There is only my mother and me, and motheris ill." "Do you think much of that donkey?" he asked quickly. "Ishould say so!" "Well, the first thing he'll be stolen. He'll begone tomorrow. Then the rest'll come after, and it's Fatty as tellsyer so." "Really?" "Should say so! You've never been to Parisbefore?" "No, never." "That's easy to see. Some fools told youwhere to put your cart up, but you can't put it there. Why don'tyou go to Grain-of-Salt?" "I don't know Grain-of-Salt." "Why, heowns the Guillot Fields. You needn't be afraid of him, and he'dshoot anybody who tried to get in his place." "Will it cost much togo there?" "It costs a lot in winter, when everybody comes toParis, but at this time I'm sure he won't make you pay more thanforty sous a week. And your donkey can find its food in the field.Does he like thistles?" "I should say he does like them!" "Well,then, this is just the place for him, and Grain-of-Salt isn't a badchap," said the little clown with a satisfied air. "Is that hisname ... Grain-of-Salt?" "They call him that 'cause he's alwaysthirsty. He's only got one arm." "Is his place far from here?" "No,at Charonne; but I bet yer don't even know where Charonne is?""I've never been to Paris before." "Well, then, it's over there."He waved his arms vaguely in a northerly direction. "Once you havepassed through the Gates, you turn straight to the right," heexplained, "and you follow the road all along the fortificationsfor half an hour, then go down a wide avenue, then turn to yourleft, and then ask where the Guillot Field is. Everybody knows it.""Thank you. I'll go and tell mama. If you'll stand beside Palikarefor a minute, I'll go and tell her at once." "Sure, I'll mind himfor yer. I'll ask him to teach me Greek." "And please don't let himeat that straw."
Perrine went inside the caravan and told her motherwhat the little clown had said. "If that is so," said the sickwoman, "we must not hesitate; we must go to Charonne. But can youfind the way?" "Yes, it's easy enough. Oh, mother," she added, asshe was going out, "there are such a lot of wagons outside; theyhave printed on them 'Maraucourt Factories,' and beneath that thename, 'Vulfran Paindavoine.' There are all kinds of barrels andthings in the carts. Such a number!" "There is nothing remarkablein that, my child," said the woman. "Yes, but it's strange to seeso many wagons with the same name on them," replied the girl as sheleft the caravan.
Perrine found the donkey with his nose buried in thestraw, which he was eating calmly. "Why, you're letting him eatit!" she cried to the boy. "Well, why not?" he retorted. "And ifthe man is angry?" "He'd better not be with me," said the smallboy, putting himself in a position to fight and throwing his headback.
But his prowess was not to be brought into action,for at this moment the custom officer began to search the cart ofstraw, and then gave permission for it to pass on through the Gatesof Paris. "Now it's your turn," said the boy, "and I'll have toleave you. Goodbye, Mademoiselle. If you ever want news of me askfor Double Fat. Everybody knows me."
The employés who guard the entrances of Paris areaccustomed to strange sights, yet the man who went into Perrine'scaravan looked surprised when he found a young woman lying on amattress, and even more surp