Then the old man remembered, understood, and reddened with anger.
"Ah! he saw me, did he, the rascal? He saw me pick up this here string. Look, your worship."
And, rummaging at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled out the little piece of string.
But the incredulous mayor shook his head.
"You will not make me believe, Master Hauchecorne, that Master Malandain, who is a man worthy of all respect, has taken this bit of cord for a pocket-book."
The peasant, furious, raised his hand, and spit at his side to bear witness to his honour, repeating:
"F'r all that, it's God's truth, holy truth, your worship. There! My soul and my salvation knows it's true!"
The mayor resumed:
"After having picked the article up, you even searched also a long while in the mud to make sure if money had fallen out of it."
The good man choked with rage and terror.