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."
And fumbling in the depths of his pocket, he produced the little piece of cord.
But the mayor was incredulous and shook his head.
"You won't make me believe, Master Hauchecorne, that Monsieur Malandain, who is a man deserving of credit, mistook this string for a wallet."
The peasant, in a rage, raised his hand, spit to one side to pledge his honor, and said:—
"It's God's own truth, the sacred truth, all the same, m'sieu' mayor. I say it again, by my soul and my salvation."
"After picking it up," rejoined the mayor, "you hunted a long while in the mud, to see if some piece of money hadn't fallen out."
The good man was suffocated with wrath and fear.
"If any one can tell—if any one can tell lies like that to ruin an honest man! If any one can say—"