A Piece of String – Guy de Maupassant – Class 10 SCERT

In Guy de Maupassant’s story “A Piece of String,” an old peasant named Hauchecome picks up a bit of string from the road in Goderville, but is wrongly accused of stealing a lost pocketbook. Though the wallet is later found and returned by someone else, the villagers continue to suspect Hauchecome, believing he had it returned by an accomplice. Despite his repeated explanations and protests, no one believes him. The constant humiliation and injustice break his spirit, and he eventually dies, still insisting on his innocence with the words, “A piece of string, a piece of string.” Welcome to A Piece of String – Class 10 SCERT.

• SCERT Class 10 All Chapters

Summary

• It was market day in Goderville.
• Peasants and their wives came to town with animals.
• Hauchecome, an old peasant, arrived at the market.
• He saw a small piece of string on the road.
• He picked it up, thinking it might be useful.
• Malandain, his enemy, saw him pick it up.
• Hauchecome felt ashamed and hid the string.
• He pretended to look for something else.
• He joined the crowd in the market square.
• People gathered in the tavern to eat and talk.
• Suddenly, a drumbeat called everyone outside.
• The public crier announced a lost pocketbook.
• It contained 500 francs and important papers.
• A reward was offered for its return.
• People discussed the lost item.
• A policeman came looking for Hauchecome.
• Hauchecome was taken to the Mayor’s office.
• The Mayor accused him of stealing the pocketbook.
• Hauchecome denied it and showed the string.
• Malandain claimed he saw Hauchecome pick up the wallet.
• Hauchecome was searched, but nothing was found.
• The Mayor let him go, but people didn’t believe him.
• Hauchecome tried to explain, but was mocked.
• The next day, the pocketbook was found by someone else.
• Hauchecome felt relieved and told everyone his story.
• But people still didn’t believe him.
• They thought he had an accomplice return the wallet.
• Hauchecome kept repeating his story, trying to prove his innocence.
• People laughed and made fun of him.
• He became sick and died, still crying out: “A piece of string!”

Questions & Answers

Along all the roads around Goderville, the peasants and their wives were coming to the town because it was market day. Some led a cow or a calf by a cord, and their wives, walking behind the animal, whipped it with a leafy branch to hasten its progress. In the public square of Goderville, there was a crowd, a throng of human beings and animals.

Hauchecome had just arrived at Goderville, and he was walking towards the public square. Then he saw a little piece of string on the ground. He thought that everything useful ought to be picked up. He took the bit of thin cord from the ground and began to roll it carefully. Then he noticed Malandain, on the threshold of his door, looking at him. They were on bad terms with each other. Hauchecome was seized with shame to be seen thus by his enemy. He concealed his find quickly in his trousers pocket. He pretended to be looking on the ground for something else. Then, he went towards the market.

He was soon lost in the noisy crowd. Soon, the square was deserted. At the tavern, the great hall was full of people eating. An appetising odour of roast meat rose from the hearth which made everybody’s mouth water. The dishes were passed and emptied, as were the jugs of cider. The peasants discussed the crops, and their purchases and sales. The weather was favourable for the green things but not for the wheat.

Suddenly the drum beat in the courtyard outside the tavern. Everybody rose, except a few, and ran to the door or to the windows, their mouths still full. After the public crier had ceased his drumbeating, he called out in a jerky voice:

“This is hereby made known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and to all persons present at the market: There was lost this morning on the road, between nine and ten o’clock, a black leather pocketbook containing five hundred francs and some business papers. The finder is requested to return the same with all haste to the Mayor’s office. There will be twenty francs reward.”

Then the man went away and the peasants began to talk of this event. They discussed the chances of finding or not finding the pocketbook. They were finishing their coffee when a chief of the gendarmes appeared.

He enquired, “Is Mr Hauchecome here?” Hauchecome, seated at the other end of the table, replied, “Here I am.”

And the officer resumed: “Mr Hauchecome, will you please accompany me to the Mayor’s office? The Mayor would like to talk to you.”

The peasant, surprised and disturbed, set out, repeating, “Here I am, here I am.”

The Mayor was awaiting him, seated on an armchair. He was, a stout, serious man who spoke in pompous phrases. “Mr Hauchecome,” said he, “you were seen this morning to pick up, on the road, the lost pocketbook.”

The countryman was astounded. He looked at the Mayor. He was terrified by this suspicion resting on him.

“Me? Me? Me pick up the pocketbook?”

“Yes, you, yourself.”

“Word of honour, I never heard of it.”

“But you were seen.”

“I was seen, me? Who says he saw me?”

“Mr Malandain, the harness-maker.”

The old man remembered, understood and flushed with anger.

“Ah, he saw me, he saw me pick up this string here, Your Honour.” And rummaging in his pocket, he drew out the little piece of string. But the Mayor, incredulous, shook his head. “You will not make me believe, Mr Hauchecome, that Mr Malandain, who is a man worthy of credence, mistook this cord for a pocketbook. After picking up the object, you stood there, looking a long while in the mud to see if any piece of money had fallen out.”

The good old man choked with indignation and fear. “How can anyone tell such lies to take away an honest man’s reputation!”

There was no use in his protesting; nobody believed him. He was confronted with Malandain, who repeated and maintained his affirmation. At his own request Hauchecome was searched; nothing was found on him.

Finally, the Mayor, very much perplexed, discharged him.

As he left the Mayor’s office, the old man was surrounded and questioned by the villagers. He began to tell the story of the string. No one believed him. They laughed at him. He went along, stopping his friends, showing his pockets turned inside out to prove that he had nothing. They said: “Old rascal, get out!”

The next day about one o’clock in the afternoon, an employee in a shop returned the pocketbook. The man claimed to have found the object in the road. Not knowing how to read, he had given it to his employer. The news spread through the neighbourhood.

Hauchecome was informed of it. He immediately began
to recount his story with its happy climax. He was in
triumph. He talked of his adventure all day long. He told
it on the highway to people who were passing by, in the
wine shop to people who were drinking there and to
persons coming out of church the following Sunday. He
stopped strangers to tell them about it.
He was calm now, and yet something disturbed him.
People had the air of joking while they listened. They did
not seem convinced. He seemed to feel that remarks were
being made behind his back.

The next Tuesday, he went to
the market at Goderville,
just to discuss the case.
Malandain, standing at
his door, began to laugh
on seeing him pass. When
he was seated at the table
in the tavern, he began to
explain the affair.
A horse dealer called out to
him, “Come, come, old fellow,
that’s an old trick; I know all
about your piece of string!”
Hauchecome stammered: “But since the
pocketbook was found….”
The other man replied: “Shut up, there is one that finds
and there is one that reports. At any rate you are mixed
up with it.”

The peasant stood choking. He understood. They
accused him of having the pocketbook returned by an
accomplice. He tried to protest. All the table began to
laugh. He could not finish his dinner and went away in
the midst of jeers.
He went home ashamed and indignant, choking with
anger and confusion. His innocence was impossible to
prove. And he was stricken to the heart by the injustice
of the suspicion.
Then he began to recount the adventure again,
prolonging his history every day. Each time he added
new reasons, more energetic protestations, more solemn
oaths.
“Those are lying excuses,” they said behind his back.
The people now made him talk about the string to
amuse them. His mind, touched to the depth, began to
weaken.
Towards the end of December, he took to his bed. He
died in the first days of January, and in the delirium
of his death struggles he kept claiming his innocence,
reiterating: “A piece of string, a piece of string, look–
here it is, Your Honour, the Mayor.”