“A donkey?” Alexandre was staring at the animal in disbelief. “I told you I’d be back,” she told the animal, reaching out to rub between its ears. Dispirited, it stared at them without moving. As they approached its stall, the donkey lifted its head, but its ears hung down like long, limp blades of grass. His voice broke into her thoughts, and she reminded herself that Alexandre was not like Nigel. “Mademoiselle? Why do you need grain and hay?” Wildly, she wondered if she could hide the animal, feed it in secret, but she knew at once such a plan was futile. Tess hesitated, suddenly realizing that he might not be pleased about the donkey. “There is a bag of oats in the buttery, I believe. He set down the brush, turning to face her. “So you have none, then?” When he shook his head, she asked, “What about grain?” “Oats? Hay?” A puzzled frown creased his brow at her curious request. She shook her head impatiently, their dinner the last thing on her mind. She found him in his studio, cleaning paintbrushes.
She put it one of the stalls, then went in search of Alexandre to see if there was any feed available to give the animal. The late afternoon sun was falling behind the rocky hills in a blaze of crimson and salmon against the azure blue of the sky as she led the donkey to the stable. It followed obediently, resigned to whatever fate lay ahead.
Grasping the mane, she led the animal toward the château. I shall take you home with me, and whoever did this will never, ever raise a whip to you again. “You ran away, didn't you?” she murmured, brushing away tears with a swipe of her hand. It was a long time before she lifted her head. Tess wrapped her arms around the donkey's neck, buried her face in its short, ratted mane, and cried like a child. The donkey hung its head, as if ashamed, but with no logical reason to be. Tears stung her eyes and she reached out a tentative hand to stroke the donkey's neck. Anger, shimmered through her, and along with it, something else. The animal’s back and sides were crisscrossed with the scars of a whip, and dried blood caked the most recent wounds.
When she stepped closer, she was able to see the reason why. It simply stared at her with dark, sad eyes, seeming too tired to care. She reached out her hand and moved forward more slowly, speaking to the animal in a soft voice. Tess's heart constricted with pity, and she took a step forward, but the donkey shied back with a frightened bray. The bones of its ribs and flanks plainly showed its hunger. The animal carried nothing, but its back was swayed from too many past burdens. Several yards away, in the shadow between two buildings, stood a donkey. She turned toward the other buildings, intending to explore them as well, when she halted abruptly. It truly was a shame, she thought as she emerged from the first building into the bright sunlight.
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