THE GREAT SHORT STORIES OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
A PIECE OF STRING
CH - II
Just opposite the diners seated at the table, the immense fireplace, filled with bright flames, cast a lively heat on the backs of the row on the right. Three spits were turning on which were chickens, pigeons, and legs of mutton; and an appetizing odor of roast beef and gravy dripping over the nicely browned skin rose from the hearth, increased the jovialness, and made everybody's mouth water.
All the aristocracy of the plow ate there, at Maitre Jourdain's, tavern keeper and horse dealer, a rascal who had money.
The dishes were passed and emptied, as were the jugs of yellow cider. Everyone told his affairs, his purchases, and sales. They discussed the crops. The weather was favorable for the green things but not for the wheat.
Suddenly the drum beat in the court, before the house. Everybody rose except a few indifferent persons, and ran to the door, or to the windows, their mouths still full and napkins in their hands.
After the public crier had ceased his drum-beating, he called out in a jerky voice, speaking his phrases irregularly;
"It is hereby made known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in general to all persons present at the market, that there was lost this morning, on the road to Benzeville, between nine and ten o'clock, a black leather pocketbook containing five hundred francs and some business papers. The finder is requested to return same with all haste to the mayor's office or to Maitre Fortune Houlbreque of Manneville, there will be twenty francs reward."
Then the man went away. The heavy roll of the drum and the crier's voice were again heard at a distance.
Then they began to talk of this event, discussing the chances that Maitre Houlbreque had of finding or not finding his pocketbook.
And the meal concluded. They were finishing their coffee when chief of the gendarmes appeared upon the threshold.
He inquired:
"Is Maitre Hauchecome, of Breaute, here?"
Maitre Hauchecome, seated at the other end of the table, replied:
" Here I am"
And the officer resumed:
" Maitre Hauchecome, will have the goodness to accompany me to the mayor's office? The mayor would like to talk to you."
The peasant, surprised and disturbed, swallowed at a draught his tiny glass of brandy, rose, and, even more bent than in the morning, for the first steps after each rest were especially difficult, set out, repeating: "Here I am, here I am."
The mayor was awaiting him, seated on an armchair. He was the notary of the vicinity , a stout, serious man, with pompous phrases.
"Maitre Hauchecome," said he, "You were seen this morning to pick up, on the road to Benzeville, the pocket book lost by Maitre Houlbreque, of Manneville."
The countryman, astounded, looked at the mayor, already terrified, by this suspicion resting on him without his knowing why,
"Me? Me? Me pick up the pocketbook?"
"Yes. You, yourself."
"Word of honor, I never heard of it."
"But you were seen."
"I was seen, me? Who says he saw me?"
"Monseiur Malandain, the harness-maker."
The old man remembered, understood, and flushed with anger.
"Ah, he saw me, the clodhopper, he saw me pick up this string, here M'sieu' the Mayor." And rummaging in his pocket the drew out the little piece of string.
But the mayor, incredulous, shook his head.
"You will not make me believe, Maitre Hauchecome, that Monsieur Malandain, who is a man worthy of credence, mistook this cord for a pocketbook."
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