and his protestations, showing his pockets turned inside
out, to prove that he had nothing.

They said to him:--

"You old rogue, _va!_"

And he lost his temper, lashing himself into a rage, feverish with
excitement, desperate because he was not believed, at a loss what to
do, and still telling his story. Night came. He must needs go home. He
started with three neighbors, to whom he pointed out the place where
he had picked up the bit of string: and all the way he talked of his
misadventure.

During the evening he made a circuit of the village of Breaute, in
order to tell everybody about it. He found none but incredulous
listeners.

He was ill over it all night.

The next afternoon, about one o'clock, Marius Paumelle, a farmhand
employed by Master Breton, a farmer of Ymauville, restored the wallet
and its contents to Master Huelbreque of Manneville.

The man claimed that he had found it on the road; but, being unable to
read, had carried it home and given it to his employer.

The news soon became known in the neighborhood; Master Hauchecorne was
informed of it. He started out again at once, and began to tell his
story, now made complete by the denouement. He was triumphant.

"What made me feel bad," he said, "wasn't so much the thing itself,
you understand, but the lying. There's nothing hurts you so much as
being blamed for lying."

All day long he talked of his adventure; he told it on the roads to
people who passed; at the wine-shop to people who were drinking; and
after church on the following Sunday. He even stopped strangers to
tell them about it. His mind was at rest now, and yet something
embarrassed him, although he could not say just what it was. People
seemed to laugh while they listened to him. They did not seem
convinced. He felt as if remarks were made behind his back.

On Tuesday of the next week, he went to market at Goderville, impelled
solely by the longing to tell his story.

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"?

When he was seated at the table, in Jourdain's Inn, he set about
explaining the affair once more.

A horse-trader from Montvilliers called out to him:--