After a full day of sightseeing le petit cheval was almost as tired as his four old companions. He did not object when Sallie, the youngest of the old ones, carried him in her leather back pack to a café not far from their hotel on the Rive Gauche. This café was near the Sorbonne, a very old university. Sallie and Le Petit Cheval settled themselves at a small round table, just on the edge of the sidewalk. Sallie sipped a dark red drink with a slice of orange in it. Le Petit Cheval had a cup of hot cocoa. Sitting in cafes, nursing a drink or a cup of espresso coffee is one of the great pleasures of Paris, he discovered. They relaxed, and Sallie made a small sketch in watercolor of the wonderful white buildings across the street. All too soon it was time to join the other weary travelers for dinner. One thing he could count on, though--in France, dinner was always delicious.
Le Petit Cheval woke bright and early the next morning. He ate his breakfast of croissants and butter. He sipped his café au lait. He trotted up the four flights of stairs to the tiny room. He pawed the carpet. His coat shivered with anticipation. At last the four pokey old people were ready go. Proudly the little horse led them to the metro station. Proudly he showed them which train to take to get to the Gare Montparnasse
. As they waited for the right train to arrive the little horse enjoyed watching the antics of a small dog on the platform opposite him. “The French take their dogs everywhere,” he wrote in his postcard to Bel Canto. “Even to restaurants.”