It was market-day, and from all the country round Goderville the peasants and their wives
were coming toward the town. The men walked slowly, throwing the whole body forward
at every step of their long, crooked legs. They were deformed from pushing the plough
which makes the left- shoulder higher, and bends their figures side-ways; from reaping
the grain, when they have to spread their legs so as to keep on their feet. Their starched
blue blouses, glossy as though varnished, ornamented at collar and cuffs with a little
embroidered design and blown out around their bony bodies, looked very much like
balloons about to soar, whence issued two arms and two feet.
Some of these fellows dragged a cow or a calf at the end of a rope. And just behind the
animal followed their wives beating it over the back with a leaf-covered branch to hasten
its pace, and carrying large baskets out of which protruded the heads of chickens or
ducks. These women walked more quickly and energetically than the men, with their
erect, dried-up figures, adorned with scanty little shawls pinned over their flat bosoms,
and their heads wrapped round with a white cloth, enclosing the hair and surmounted by a
cap.
Now a char-a-banc passed by, jogging along behind a nag and shaking up strangely the
two men on the seat, and the woman at the bottom of the cart who held fast to its sides to
lessen the hard jolting.
In the market-place at Goderville was a great crowd, a mingled multitude of men and
beasts. The horns of cattle, the high, long-napped hats of wealthy peasants, the
headdresses of the women came to the surface of that sea. And the sharp, shrill, barking
voices made a continuous, wild din, while above it occasionally rose a huge burst of
laughter from the sturdy lungs of a merry peasant or a prolonged bellow from a cow tied
fast to the wall of a house.
It all smelled of the stable, of milk, of hay and of perspiration, giving off that half-human,
half-animal odor which is peculiar to country folks.
Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, had just arrived at Goderville and was making his way
toward the square when he perceived on the ground a little piece of string. Maitre
Hauchecorne, economical as are all true Normans, reflected that everything was worth
picking up which could be of any use, and he stooped down, but painfully, because he
suffered from rheumatism. He took the bit of thin string from the ground and was
carefully preparing to roll it up when he saw Maitre Malandain, the harness maker, on his
doorstep staring at him. They had once had a quarrel about a halter, and they had borne
each other malice ever since. Maitre Hauchecorne was overcome with a sort of shame at
being seen by his enemy picking up a bit of string in the road. He quickly hid it beneath
his blouse and then slipped it into his breeches, pocket, then pretended to be still looking
for something on the ground which he did not discover and finally went off toward the
