Dedicated to Harry Ellis
All the roads through Godville are bustling, and the country people, with their families and mouths, are rushing to the town; This day is the day of market. The men walked slowly. With each step of their long legs, the whole upper body jumps forward. You know, hard work has deformed their legs. When plowing, the upper body should press the plow, the left shoulder should be raised, and the body should be tilted. When harvesting wheat, they had to spread their knees to stand firm. Besides, many other heavy farm jobs are also very tiring, and so on. Their legs have changed over the years. On this day, they wore blue cloth blouses, which were crisp and shiny, like a layer of varnish, with small patterns embroidered with white lines at the neckline and cuffs. Their upper body is bony, and their clothes are covered like bulging balloons, which seems to be about to take off. Seen from the balloon, there is a head, two arms and two legs.
Some people lead cows or calves with ropes, and their women follow the cows and beat the ribs of the cows with leafy branches to drive them away. They have big baskets on their arms, and from time to time, they lean out the heads of chickens and ducks. They go up, the pace is smaller than that of men, but faster. Their shriveled bodies are straight, covered with narrow shawls, pinned to flat chests, wrapped in white cloth and buckled with a hat without eaves.
A cart with a bench and capable of carrying people passed by, and the pony pulling the cart ran forward rhythmically. There are two men sitting side by side in the car, and a woman in the car is stumbling. The woman clung to the side of the car to avoid falling.
In the square of Godivale town, there is already a bustling crowd, and the noisy voices are mixed with the sounds of livestock. Horns, rich peasants' long velvet hats and women's headdresses move above the crowd. Sharp and harsh cries and noisy voices converge into a hubbub. Sometimes, a lively and rude person laughs loudly, or a cow crouching in the corner makes a loud roar, which drowns the hubbub.
The market is filled with the smell of animals, such as milk, feces, forage and sweat, which exudes the unique sour and smelly sweat of farmers and animals, and is pungent and unpleasant.
There is an old man named Ossie korner in the village of Breaute. That day he went to the town and went straight to the square, and happened to see a short rope on the ground. He is an out-and-out Normandy guy, frugal by nature, and thinks that anything useful should be picked up; So it is difficult for him to bend down because he has arthritis. He picked up the rope from the ground and was about to roll it up slowly, only to find that Malandain, a harness maker, was standing at his door staring at him. They used to do business together, but then they fell out. Both of them are narrow-minded and like to hold grudges, and they have not made up yet. Old Ossie korner saw him pick up a small rope from animal excrement, but he was caught by his sworn enemy. He felt ashamed and ashamed. He quickly stuffed the rope into his jacket, then hid it in his pants pocket, and then pretended to look for something on the ground but found it. Finally, he bent his back and cocked his head and walked to the assembly.
He soon merged into the crowd, and the people in the market were noisy, moving slowly and bargaining constantly. They are very active. Those farmers stroked the cows with their hands, walked over and came back, half-hearted, indecisive, afraid of being fooled, secretly observing the eyes of selling cows, trying to see through each other's tricks and pick out the faults of the animals.
The peasant women put the big baskets at their feet, caught the poultry inside and put them on the ground. Those poor chickens and ducks have their paws tied, their eyes are frightened and their crowns are red.
They listened to the buyer's counter-offer, indifferent, cold-faced, and still insisted on their selling price. Sometimes, they will suddenly change their minds, agree to the price offered by the other party, stop the buyers who are slowly leaving, and shout:
"That's all, uncle Andy. I sold it to you. "
In a short time, the people in the market gradually became scarce, the church rang the bell of noon prayer, and farmers living in distant villages went to the inn one after another.
The lobby of Jourdain Inn is crowded with guests who come to eat, and the spacious yard is also full of all kinds of vehicles, including two vans, a light carriage with a canopy, a four-wheeled carriage with a bench, a double carriage, and many unknown trolleys, which are covered with mud and dirt, stained with yellow stains, deformed, patched, some with their axes facing the sky, like two arms, and some with their heads facing the ground. The diners have all sat down, and behind them is a huge fireplace. The fire was blazing, warming the backs of the guests in the right row. All three iron skewers were crossed with chicken, pigeon and leg of lamb, and the fire was fired. The smell of barbecue and crispy oil floated out of the oven, which made people drool and excited.
All the rich people in the plowman come to Jourdain's boss's shop for dinner. Jourdain runs an inn and sells horses. He is very cunning and has a lot of money in his pocket.
Dishes were served plate after plate, and diners swept away, and jars of yellow wine were drunk. Everyone is talking about their own business and buying whatever they sell. People are also asking about the harvest that year. The weather is good for grass, but it rains a little more for wheat. Suddenly, drums sounded in the yard in front of the house. Except for a few indifferent people, everyone stood up and ran to the door or window, still full of food and napkins in their hands. The duty of reading the notice was drumming, and it was read intermittently: "I hereby announce to the residents of Godville and all the villagers who came to the market that someone lost a black wallet with 500 francs and commercial paper on the road in Bozville between 9: 00 and/kloc-0: 0 this morning. If anyone finds it, please send it to the city hall or the boss's house of Forjunet Houlbreque in Maneville immediately, and you will get 10 francs. I left after reading the business. After a while, drums and tolerant reading were heard in the distance, but the sound was weak. As a result, people in the canteen are talking about it. Some people say that the boss Houlbreque may get his wallet back, while others say that he can't get it back. There are different opinions, but no one can agree. Everyone has finished their lunch. While they were drinking coffee, the sheriff appeared in front of the shop. He asked, "Is father Ossie Kona in Breott village?" Ossie Kona is sitting at the other end of the table. He replied, "I'm here. The sheriff went on to say, "Ossie Kona, dad, please come with me to the city hall." The mayor wants to talk to you. "Old Ossie Kona was very surprised and depressed. He drank a small glass of wine and stood up. At this time, his waist is bent more than in the morning, because he feels particularly hard to stand up and walk after sitting. As he walked, he muttered, "I'm here, I'm here." He followed the sheriff. The mayor waited for him in an armchair. The mayor of a town, a local notary, is obese and serious, and likes to exaggerate.
"Old Ossie korner," he began, "was seen picking up the wallet that Holly Burke of Maneville lost on the way to Burzville this morning."
The old man in the country looked at the mayor dumbfounded. I don't know why, this sudden doubt made him particularly afraid.
"I, I, I found that wallet?" "Yes, it is you."
"On my honor, I have never seen a wallet." "Someone has seen you."
"Has anyone seen me? Who has seen me? " "Mr. Malantan, the harness dealer." At this time, the old talent to think of it, understand the reason of the matter, he was flushed with anger, call discretion way:
"Oh, it's him, asshole! It was this rope that he saw me pick up. Look, Mr. Mayor, this is it. "
With that, he took the rope from his pocket. However, the mayor didn't believe me and shook his head and said, "You can't convince me that O 'Shea korner, Malantan is a man of credit. How could he use a rope as his wallet? "
The countryman is angry. He raised a hand, spat at the side and said:
"What I said is true, Mr. Mayor, absolutely true. I swear by my soul. " The mayor added:
"After you found your wallet, you searched the soil for a long time for fear that a coin would fall to the ground."
The honest countryman was so angry and scared that he could hardly speak.
"How can you say that! ..... How can you tell such a lie to frame a good man! How can you say ... "
His protest was useless, and the other party didn't believe him at all.
So, he was arranged to confront Mr. Malandain, and Mr. Malandain repeated and insisted on his testimony. The two men scolded each other for a whole hour. According to Ossie korner's request, the mayor searched him and found nothing.
Finally, the mayor had no choice but to send him away, but explained to him that he would report the case to the procuratorate and wait for the order to deal with it. This matter has spread in the town. As soon as the old man walked out of the gate of the town hall, he was surrounded by people. Everyone asked him questions, some were serious and curious, and some were sarcastic. So he told the whole story of picking up the rope. Everyone didn't believe it and laughed. He walked forward, sometimes someone stopped him, sometimes someone stopped his acquaintances, told him his rope over and over again, expressed his indignation, and turned his pockets upside down. Everyone who listened to the story refuted him like this: no one believed him, and he was angry and extremely annoyed. He is manic and miserable, and he doesn't know what to do. So he told everyone about his experience endlessly. Night arrival, it's time to go home. He walked with three neighbors and showed them where he found the rope. Along the way, he told his own story. That night, he walked around the village trying to tell the villagers about his misfortune, but no one believed him. If he is seriously ill, he will stay up all night. The next day, at about one o'clock in the afternoon, on Mr. Black's farm in Morville Village, a long-term worker named Marius Pomel returned his wallet with the money and banknotes inside. According to this long-term worker, he really found it on the road. Unable to read, he immediately spread the news to four surrounding towns, and the old man Ossie korner soon heard about it. He immediately wandered around and told the villagers the truth. He "made me sad at that time," he said. "It's not the thing itself, you know, but someone deliberately lies, and lies cause you to be framed and wronged. Nothing is more painful than this.
"He told his stories all day, poured out his bitterness, told acquaintances he met on the road, told people who drank in small hotels, told people who watched mass at the church gate on Sunday, and even told people he didn't know. Now, he is in a good mood. However, he still feels that something makes him uncomfortable. He can't say what it is. People who listen to his stories always look like laughing. It seems that they don't really believe him. He seems to feel that someone is talking about him behind his back.
The next Tuesday, he went to the market in Godville. He just wanted to talk about his experience there again.
Malandain was standing in front of his house, and he was very happy to see him pass by. What medicine is sold in this gourd?
He walked up to a farmer in Keli Grdo village and told his story again. Before he finished, the other party patted his stomach, pointed at his face and said loudly, "Come on, slick!" " Then he walked away.
Ossie korner froze and felt more and more uneasy. Why does everyone call him "slick"?
He went to Zhuo Dan's inn, sat down at the table and began to tell his story.
A horse dealer Monte Villiers shouted to him:
"Come on, come on, the same old story, I know, it's still your rope!" Ossie Kona stammered:
"Didn't you find that wallet?" The horse dealer said:
"Don't say anymore, my dad. One man found his wallet and the other man returned it. He kept the others in the dark, which was perfect. "
The country was too popular to speak. He finally understood that everyone believed behind his back that he had found the wallet and asked his partner to return it.
He tried to protest, but the guests in the hall burst out laughing.
He didn't finish his meal, got up and left, leaving the restaurant amid ridicule.
He came home ashamed and angry, breathless and flustered. What makes him particularly angry is that with his Norman cunning, he can do everything that others accuse him of, and even brag about his skills afterwards. He vaguely felt that he couldn't wash himself after jumping into the river, because everyone thought he was an old fox. His heart ached at the thought of such unreasonable prejudice. So he began to tell his story again. Every time he spoke, he added some new reasons, and his anger became stronger and stronger, and his oath became more and more severe. These angry words and malicious words came from his heart when he was alone. You know, there is only one thing he thinks about day and night, and that is the rope. The more detailed and well-founded his excuses are, the less people will believe him.
"Look at him, he is obviously lying, but he has to argue with reason." Behind his back, everyone said so.
He felt all this, adding up his worries and anger, his heart was burning. He tried his best to defend himself, but to no avail, he was exhausted.
Look at him tired and haggard, getting better every day.
People who like to make fun of him always make him tell "rope stories", just like asking soldiers who have participated in the war to tell battle stories. His whole spirit completely collapsed under the devastating blow.
He was ill in bed at the end of December.
He died in early January. He was in a coma before he died. He kept saying, "a little rope ... a little rope ... look, it's here, Mr. mayor."