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Updated: June 9, 2025
The countryman looked at the mayor in amazement frightened already at this suspicion which rested on him, he knew not why. "I I picked up that pocketbook?" "Yes, YOU." "I swear I don't even know anything about it." "You were seen." "I was seen I? Who saw me?" "M. Malandain, the harness-maker."
The countryman looked at the mayor in amazement frightened already at this suspicion which rested on him, he knew not why. "I I picked up that pocketbook?" "Yes, YOU." "I swear I don't even know anything about it." "You were seen." "I was seen I? Who saw me?" "M. Malandain, the harness-maker."
Malandain, standing in his doorway, began to laugh when he saw him coming. Why? He accosted a farmer from Criquetot, who did not let him finish, but poked him in the pit of his stomach, and shouted in his face: "Go on, you old fox!" Then he turned on his heel. Master Hauchecorne was speechless, and more and more disturbed. Why did he call him "old fox"?
Master Hauchecorne, economical like every true Norman, thought that it was well to pick up everything that might be of use; and he stooped painfully, for he suffered with rheumatism. He took the piece of slender cord from the ground, and was about to roll it up carefully, when he saw Master Malandain, the harness-maker, standing in his doorway and looking at him.
The countryman looked at the mayor in amazement, frightened already at this suspicion which rested on him, he knew not why. "I I picked up that pocketbook?" "Yes, you." "I swear I don't even know anything about it." "You were seen." "I was seen I? Who saw me?" "M. Malandain, the harness-maker."
But the mayor incredulously shook his head: "You will not make me believe, Maitre Hauchecorne, that M. Malandain, who is a man whose word can be relied on, has mistaken this string for a pocketbook." The peasant, furious, raised his hand and spat on the ground beside him as if to attest his good faith, repeating: "For all that, it is God's truth, M'sieu le Maire. There!
"I, I I picked up that wallet?" "Yes, you." "On my word of honor, I didn't even so much as see it." "You were seen." "They saw me, me? Who was it saw me?" "Monsieur Malandain, the harness-maker." Thereupon the old man remembered and understood; and flushing with anger, he cried: "Ah! he saw me, did he, that sneak? He saw me pick up this string, look, m'sieu' mayor."
His protestations were in vain; he was not believed. He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated and sustained his testimony. They railed at one another for an hour. At his own request Maitre Hauchecorne was searched. Nothing was found on him. At last the mayor, much perplexed, sent him away, warning him that he would inform the public prosecutor and ask for orders. The news had spread.
On Tuesday of the following week he went to market at Goderville, prompted solely by the need of telling his story. Malandain, standing on his doorstep, began to laugh as he saw him pass. Why? He accosted a farmer of Criquetot, who did not let him finish, and giving him a punch in the pit of the stomach, cried in his face: "Oh, you great rogue!" Then he turned his heel upon him.
His protestations were in vain; he was not believed. He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated and sustained his testimony. They railed at one another for an hour. At his own request Maitre Hauchecorne was searched. Nothing was found on him. At last the mayor, much perplexed, sent him away, warning him that he would inform the public prosecutor and ask for orders. The news had spread.
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