"Don't worry, darling; it's because I'm closed in here," replied the woman, gasping. Then she smiled wanly, hoping to reassure her daughter.
The woman was in a pitiable plight. All her strength had gone and she could scarcely breathe. Although she was only about twenty-nine years of age, her life was ebbing away. There still remained traces of remarkable beauty: Her head and hair were lovely, and her eyes were soft and dark like her daughter's.
"Shall I give you something?" asked Perrine.
"What?"
"There are some shops near by. I can buy a lemon. I'll come back at once."
"No, keep the money. We have so little. Go back to Palikare and stop him from eating the straw."
"That's not easy," answered the little girl.
She went back to the donkey and pushed him on his haunches until he was out of reach of the straw in front of him.
At first the donkey was obstinate and tried to push forward again, but she spoke to him gently and stroked him, and kissed him on his nose; then he dropped his long ears with evident satisfaction and stood quite still.
There was no occasion to worry about him now, so she amused herself with watching what was going on around her.