The Piece of String

by Guy de Maupassant

"The Piece of String" is a short story by Guy de Maupassant. Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant (5 August 1850 – 6 July 1893) was a popular 19th-century French writer, considered one of the fathers of the modern short story and one of the form's finest exponents. A protégé of Flaubert, Maupassant's stories are characterized by their economy of style and efficient, effortless dénouements. Many of the stories are set during the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s and several describe the futility of war and the innocent civilians who, caught in the conflict, emerge changed. He authored some 300 short stories, six novels, three travel books, and one volume of verse. His first published story "Boule de Suif" ("Ball of Fat", 1880) is often considered his masterpiece. He delighted in clever plotting, and served as a model for Somerset Maugham and O. Henry in this respect. His stories about expensive jewellery ("The Necklace", "La parure") are imitated with a twist by Maugham ("Mr Know-All", "A String of Beads") and Henry James ("Paste"). Taking his cue from Balzac, Maupassant wrote comfortably in both the high-Realist and fantastic modes; stories and novels such as "L'Héritage" and Bel-Ami aim to recreate Third Republic France in a realistic way, whereas many of the short stories (notably "Le Horla" and "Qui sait?") describe apparently supernatural phenomena. The supernatural in Maupassant, however, is often implicitly a symptom of the protagonists' troubled minds; Maupassant was fascinated by the burgeoning discipline of psychiatry, and attended the public lectures of Jean-Martin Charcot between 1885 and 1886. This interest is reflected in his fiction. Maupassant is notable as the subject of one of Leo Tolstoy's essays on The Works of Guy de Maupassant. Friedrich Nietzsche's autobiography mentions him in the following "I cannot at all conceive in which century of history one could haul together such inquisitive and at the same time delicate psychologists as one can in contemporary I can name as a sample – for their number is by no means small, ... or to pick out one of the stronger race, a genuine Latin to whom I am particularly attached, Guy de Maupassant."

Genres: Short Stories, Classics, France, Fiction, Audiobook, 19th Century, French Literature

28 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1883

About the author

Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant was a popular 19th-century French writer. He is one of the fathers of the modern short story. A protege of Flaubert, Maupassant's short stories are characterized by their economy of style and their efficient effortless dénouement. He also wrote six short novels. A number of his stories often denote the futility of war and the innocent civilians who get crushed in it - many are set during the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s.

Reviews

[Sandra · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well written, sad short story about a man accused of something he didn't do, then proven innocent. But the people in town never let it go.

[Maureen · Rating 3 out of 5]

A rather sad little tale about man who is placed under a cloud of suspicion, after being falsely accused of theft by an adversary, in order to seek revenge for past disagreements. Despite the man’s protestations of his innocence, the villagers are impossible to persuade, and in fact they find much amusement in ridiculing him.

[Phoenix Perpetuale · Rating 2 out of 5]

A piece of String by Guy de Maupassant Audible audio is only fourteen minutes of listening. The story is short. Did not like it as much as the previous short story by this author.

[Tamar...playing hooky for a few hours today · Rating 5 out of 5]

A peasant farmer walking down the road espies a piece of discarded string and, frugal that he is, carefully wraps it up and places in his pocket, for some future use. As he does so, he notices a disagreeable neighbor with whom he harbors a grudge, watching him. Not wanting to be seen as someone who picks up pieces of discarded string in his path, the peasant farmer feigns looking about, searching the terrain as if he’s lost something.

Later, it transpires that a squire has lost his purse in the area and the townspeople are asked if anyone has found it. When no one comes forward a hefty reward is offered for anyone who finds and returns the purse. Curmudgeon neighbor pipes up that he saw peasant farmer pick up the purse and put it in his pocket. Peasant farmer is accused and denies any such thing. Purse is found by other who comes forward and accepts his reward.

There is great irony to this tale and an evil cast aspersion will follow a man to his grave.

This is a brilliant very short story, written by a master. de Maupessant transported me to the crowded atmosphere of the town's marketplace. The stalls, scents, and visions permeated my senses and I could feel the prejudices and petty social indignities among the townspeople.

I listened to an audible (freebie on audible+) but, for anyone interested, the story is probably available all over the internet. In a quick search I see it is available at this link: http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-sto...

[Sara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Guy de Maupassant is one of the best of short story writers. He is able to give you everything you want in his short venue and never leaves you feeling there is more of the story that you wish to hear.

This tale is poignant and quite sad. It is about the unjust destruction of a man's reputation and how that affects his life. How easily a person can be accused of something he did not do and how difficult sometimes to clear one's name and make others believe the truth.

[Caitlin Ball · Rating 5 out of 5]

A realistic take on the effects false rumors can have on innocent individuals. Such lies are of a despicable nature, and the morality in this lesson is to be had by those who would blindly believe the word of one against another forgoing justice or what the individual might have to say for themselves. Many in society would benefit from such a lesson as this. It is a lesson in trust, perspective, and giving others the benefit of the doubt.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read online. For anyone interested the link is below.

[saad ben chekroun · Rating 1 out of 5]

La nouvelle met en scène le personnage Hauchechecorne qui a ramassé un petit bout de ficelle par terre, mais se trouve inculpé à Goderville de détention du porte feuille de maitre Houlbrèque.Dénoncé injustement par Malandain avec qu'il avait eu des démêlés professionnels, il n'arrête pas de se justifier pour prouver son innocence. Malgré ses efforts personne ne semble le croire. Hauchecorne plaide vainement sa cause et finit par en mourir.

[Keith [on semi hiatus] · Rating 3 out of 5]

I sensed some inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe with the description of the troubling burden on one's heart of the aged societal plague that is: honing to the opinion of our fellow man over appeasing to one's own judgement and not letting the belief in one's self suffice as acceptance for putting one's heart and mind at ease; all for a piece of string... Jesus Christ...

[Classic reverie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Guy de Maupassant's The Piece of String is a wonderfully poignant story of how a dishonest man can bring shame and ridicule to an honest man, changing how others view him forevermore! Written long ago but so telling of the depths man's reach to destroy another, so telling of our modern times. What lengths they will tell lies to gain for themselves.

Story in short- Master Hauchecorne picks up a piece of string and accused of theft of something else by Master Malandain.

I did not read this edition but from William J. Bennett's The Book of Virtues, in the Honesty collection.

9/13/2022- I re read this and agree with the above but on a second read, it is best to forget an injustice and explaining yourself, it is enough that God and yourself know the truth but the continual talking about this does not turn eyes to the truth but people are bound not to listen any longer. He should have told when asked and maybe occasionally brought this up but the obsession turns many away, especially when it is not an injustice to others but one self, when others are involved it is important to keep speaking within reason.


❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert


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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
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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
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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.
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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 head-dresses 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.

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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 market-place, his head bent forward and his body almost doubled in two by rheumatic pains. He was at once lost in the crowd, which kept moving about slowly and noisily as it chaffered and bargained. The peasants examined the cows, went off, came back, always in doubt for fear of being cheated, never quite daring to decide, looking the seller square in the eye in the
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effort to discover the tricks of the man and the defect in the beast. The women, having placed their great baskets at their feet, had taken out the poultry, which lay upon the ground, their legs tied together, with terrified eyes and scarlet combs. They listened to propositions, maintaining their prices in a decided manner with an impassive face or perhaps deciding to accept the smaller price offered, suddenly calling out to the customer who was starting to go away:
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“All right, I’ll let you have them, Mait’ Anthime.”
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Every one, except some of the most indifferent, was on their feet at once and ran to the door, to the windows, their mouths full and napkins in their hand. When the public crier had finished his tattoo he called forth in a jerky voice, pausing in the wrong places: “Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville and in general to all persons present at the market that there has been lost this morning on the Beuzeville road, between nine and ten o’clock, a black leather
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pocketbook containing five hundred francs and business papers. You are requested to return it to the mayor’s office at once or to Maitre Fortune Houlbreque, of Manneville. There will be twenty francs reward.” Then the man went away. They heard once more at a distance the dull beating of the drum and the faint voice of the crier. Then they all began to talk of this incident, reckoning up the chances which Maitre Houlbreque had of finding or of not finding his pocketbook again.

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The meal went on. They were finishing their coffee when the corporal of gendarmes appeared on the threshold. He asked: “Is Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, here?” Maitre Hauchecorne, seated at the other end of the table answered: “Here I am, here I am.” And he followed the corporal. The mayor was waiting for him, seated in an armchair. He was the notary of the place, a tall, grave man of pompous speech.
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“Maitre Hauchecorne,” said he, “this morning on the Beuzeville road, you were seen to pick up the pocketbook lost by Maitre Houlbreque, of Manneville.” The countryman looked at the mayor in amazement frightened already at this suspicion which rested on him, he knew not why. “I — I picked up that pocketbook?” “Yes, YOU.” “I swear I don’t even know anything about it.” “You were seen.” “I was seen — I? Who saw me?”
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“M. Malandain, the harness-maker.” Then the old man remembered, understood, and, reddening with anger, said: “Ah! he saw me, did he, the rascal? He saw me picking up this string here, M’sieu le Maire.” And fumbling at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled out of it the little end of string. But the mayor incredulously shook his head: “You will not make me believe, Maitre Hauchecorne, that M. Malandain, who is a man whose word can be relied on, has mistaken this string for a pocketbook.” The peasant, furious, raised his hand and spat on the ground beside him as if to attest his good faith, repeating: “For all that, it is God’s truth, M’sieu le Maire. There! On my soul’s salvation, I repeat it.” The mayor continued: “After you picked up the object in question, you even looked about for some time in the mud to see if a
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piece of money had not dropped out of it.” The good man was choking with indignation and fear. “How can they tell — how can they tell such lies as that to slander an honest man! How can they?” His protestations were in vain; he was not believed. He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated and sustained his testimony. They railed at one another for an hour. At his own request Maitre Hauchecorne
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was searched. Nothing was found on him. At last the mayor, much perplexed, sent him away, warning him that he would inform the public prosecutor and ask for orders. The news had spread. When he left the mayor’s office the old man was surrounded, interrogated with a curiosity which was serious or mocking, as the case might be, but into which no indignation entered. And he began to tell the story of the string. They did not believe him. They laughed.
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He passed on, buttonholed by every one, himself buttonholing his acquaintances, beginning over and over again his tale and his protestations, showing his pockets turned inside out to prove that he had nothing in them. They

said to him: “You old rogue!” He grew more and more angry, feverish, in despair at not being believed, and kept on telling his story. The night came. It was time to go home. He left with three of his neighbors, to whom he pointed out
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the place where he had picked up the string, and all the way he talked of his adventure. That evening he made the round of the village of Breaute for the purpose of telling every one. He met only unbelievers. He brooded over it all night long. The next day, about one in the afternoon, Marius Paumelle, a farm hand of Maitre Breton, the market gardener at Ymauville, returned the pocketbook and its contents to Maitre Holbreque, of Manneville.
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This man said, indeed, that he had found it on the road, but not knowing how to read, he had carried it home and given it to his master. The news spread to the environs. Maitre Hauchecorne was informed. He started off at once and began to relate his story with the denoument. He was triumphant. “What grieved me,” said he, “was not the thing itself, do you understand, but it was being accused of lying. Nothing does you so much harm as being in disgrace for lying.”
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All day he talked of his adventure. He told it on the roads to the people who passed, at the cabaret to the people who drank and next Sunday when they came out of church. He even stopped strangers to tell them about it. He was easy now, and yet something worried him without his knowing exactly what it was. People had a joking manner while they listened. They did not seem convinced. He seemed to feel their remarks behind his back. On Tuesday of the following week he went to market at Goderville,
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prompted solely by the need of telling his story. Malandain, standing on his doorstep, began to laugh as he saw him pass. Why? He accosted a farmer of Criquetot, who did not let hire finish, and giving him a punch in the pit of the stomach cried in his face: “Oh, you great rogue!” Then he turned his heel upon him. Maitre Hauchecorne remained speechless and grew more and more uneasy. Why had they called him “great rogue”?
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When seated at table in Jourdain’s tavern he began again to explain the whole affair. A horse dealer of Montivilliers shouted at him: “Get out, get out, you old scamp! I know all about your old string.” Hauchecorne stammered: “But since they found it again, the pocketbook!” But the other continued: “Hold your tongue, daddy; there’s one who finds it and there’s another who returns it. And no one the wiser.”
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The farmer was speechless. He understood at last. They accused him of having had the pocketbook brought back by an accomplice, by a confederate. He tried to protest. The whole table began to laugh. He could not finish his

dinner, and went away amid a chorus of jeers. He went home indignant, choking with rage, with confusion, the more cast down since with his Norman craftiness he was, perhaps, capable of having done what they accused
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him of and even of boasting of it as a good trick. He was dimly conscious that it was impossible to prove his innocence, his craftiness being so well known. He felt himself struck to the heart by the injustice of the suspicion. He began anew to tell his tale, lengthening his recital every day, each day adding new proofs, more energetic declarations and more sacred oaths, which he thought of, which he prepared in his hours of solitude, for his mind was entirely occupied with the story of the
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string. The more he denied it, the more artful his arguments, the less he was believed. “Those are liars proofs,” they said behind his back. He felt this. It preyed upon him and he exhausted himself in useless efforts. He was visibly wasting away. Jokers would make him tell the story of “the piece of string” to amuse them, just as you make a soldier who has been on a campaign tell his story of the battle. His mind
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kept growing weaker and about the end of December he took to his bed. He passed away early in January, and, in the ravings of death agony, he protested his innocence, repeating: “A little bit of string — a little bit of string. See, here it is, M’sieu le Maire.”

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

A short story set in a small Norman village in France. The story focuses on the character of Maitre Hauchecorne, an old peasant who becomes embroiled in a scandal when he is falsely accused of stealing a pocketbook.

Walking to the town square on a market day in Goderville, Maitre Hauchecorne sees a piece of string on the ground. Being very economical he picked it up thinking it might be useful but noticing he was observed and feeling embarrassed he hid it in his pants.


Later that day it is discovered that a pocketbook has been lost containing 500 francs. The townspeople suspect Hauchecorne in taking it since he was observed picking something up from the road and hiding it in his pants. When he denied finding the pocketbook and only a piece of string, he wasn't believed. When the pocketbook was later returned, he was accused of having had the pocketbook brought back by an accomplice. It was impossible to prove his innocence, his craftiness being so well known. His past reputation as a crafty and cunning peasant had created a prejudice against him, and he is unable to clear his name despite his best efforts. The more he denied it, the less he was believed. The theme of the story is how one's reputation and people's prejudice, for one's past actions can shape how others perceive them.

[Romy Hoppen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Een short story voor de verandering

[TAJ ALGADDAFI | تاج القذافي · Rating 4 out of 5]

قصة قصيرة "قطعة حبل او قطعت خيط" للكاتب الفرنسي "جي دي موباسان"
قصة نشرها سنةَ 1883 في جريدة لُو جُولْوَا.
ملخص القصه:-
كان يوم السوق في مدينة نورماندية تدعى Goderville الذي يجتمع بها المزارعين لبيع منتجاتهم وقد كان سيد Hauchecorne المعروف ببخله هناك. قام سيد Hauchecorne بالتقاط قطعة من الخيط رغم ألام ظهره لاعتقاده انها ستكون مفيدة حيث شوهد من قبل السيد Malandain .

وفي وقت لاحق، أعلن منادي المدينة أن السيد Houlbréque فقد محفظته في السوق. واتهم سيد Hauchecorne بأنه وجد المحفظة وأبقاها معه، بعد ان تم الإبلاغ عنه بواسطة السيد Malandain، قام المحافظ بمواجهته بهذا الاتهام في المطعم حيث يجتمع سكان القرية حاول Hauchcorne إثبات براءته بقوله: «لقد كانت قطعة خيط..» وقام بإخراج قطعة الخيط من جيبه لكنه لم ينجح فسكان القرية مقتنعين بأنه السارق لانهم يثقون في السيد Malandain والمحافظ (العمدة) ثقة عمياء. وفي وقت لاحق، أحد عمال المزارع Marius Paumelle وجد المحفظة على الطريق واعطاها إلى السيد Hauchecorne ، الذي اعتقد انه سيكون دليل براءته. لكن لا أحد صدق قصته بل سخروا منه، والبعض اعتقد ان المزارع شريكه في جريمته.و اصبحوا يسردون قصة «قطعة الخيط» للتسلية غير عابئين بالسيد Hauchecorne الذي عانى من الظلم واشتد به مرضه المزمن حتى أصبح يهلوس وبينما هو يحتضر كانت كلماته الاخيرة قبل موته:«لقد كانت قطعة خيط....»

[Rao Javed · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you think that it is the fate is brutal to you then you are wrong because is the world who is always to delighted to talk about you your flaws.

It was one good story that elaborates the importance of being careful of your action but then be even more careful of your explanation because if you are honest than no one will trust you but if you make story only then you are admired.

It is bit of an unwise aspect that the story lacks contentedness but it all that comes through inspiration not aspiration.
-over and out
Rao Umar

[Alysha · Rating 4 out of 5]

Heartbroken! Why is this so truthful? In the end, the man was cleared of any charge but the town's people never let it go. Why do we as people feel the need to keep remembering all the negative about a person? https://www.lds.org/ensign/2010/01/th...

[John Yelverton · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a very poignant tale about a man who is falsely accused for a crime that he didn't commit, and because the truth is so strange, no one will believe him even when the evidence supports him. This makes for some very compelling commentary on human actions.

[K. Anna Kraft · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have arranged my takeaway thoughts into a haiku:

"It may not ring true
But the first wave of news sticks,
The rest is just noise."

[Blueberry · Rating 1 out of 5]

i was forced to read this because of school

[Imane · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un jour de marché dans le bourg normand de Goderville, un paysan, maître Hauchecorne, ramasse un petit morceau de ficelle sous les yeux de maitre Malandain avec lequel il est en conflit. Plus tard, un crieur public fait savoir que quelqu’un a perdu un portefeuille. Hauchecorne est accusé d’avoir trouvé et conservé le portefeuille, il a été dénoncé par Malandain, convoqué chez le maire, on ne retient rien contre lui mais on n’a pas pu prouver son innocence. Tous les gens qu’il rencontre sont persuadés qu’il a conservé le portefeuille. Plus tard, un valet de ferme restitue le portefeuille qu’il a trouvé sur la route et Hauchecorne croit qu’il est enfin délivré. Mais plus il raconte son récit, plus les autres croient que c’est lui qui après avoir trouvé le portefeuille, l’a fait rapporter par un tiers. Hauchecorne devient obsédé, il tombe malade et il meurt. Ses derniers mots sont encore pour clamer son innocence, sa dernière phrase est « Une ’tite ficelle… une ’tite ficelle… t’nez, la voilà, m’sieu le maire ».

[Karla · Rating 3 out of 5]

This short story gives a good support to the concept that one should smooth out a quarrel with one's neighbor. The protagonist innocently picks up a piece of string from the ground. His enemy, a man with whom he had some kind of disagreement (I envision the opening scenes of Fiddler on the Roof, where one man sold a mule to another man but lied about its age). He instantly feels sheepish about having stooped to pick up the string and be seen doing so by his enemy, so he tried to pretend like he was looking for something instead. This later turns into his unraveling, since his enemy twists the story to his own advantage and exacts revenge for the past ill.

[𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 · Rating 3 out of 5]

If I were to rate this short story, I would give it a 3.7 out of 5.
By the way, I read this as a part of a collection of short stories by Guy de Maupassant and Franz Kafka in Libby.
I couldn’t find the collection in GoodReads, so I’m writing my reviews like this.

I was bored by this story from the start.
I was frustrated by the people's disbelief and felt sorry for the main character, who had done nothing wrong.
But then again, it was kind of his fault for picking up such a tiny piece of string.
At that rate, he's going to become a hoarder!
I also couldn't keep track of all the similar-sounding names.

[Lexi V · Rating 5 out of 5]

Guy de Maupassant's description is insanely masterful. The townspeople of Goderville falsely accuse Maître Hauchecorne of stealing "a pocket-book of black leather, containing five hundred francs and business papers." Their unjust accusations and mockery lead Hauchecorne to his death. Similar to The Metamorphosis.

[Zaineb Lokhandwala · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have just discovered this author. A master of human emotions and societal happenings.
This story is quite poignant . It resonates with many even during our times.
How much the society and its prejudices affect our mental health is incredible. The wallet was eventually found, yet Hauchecorne was bent on proving his innocence to the world. The opinion of other people mattered so much to him that he eventually let himself slide into fatal gloom.

[Vincent Russo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Guy finds a piece of string on the ground and picks it up. He notices that someone saw him pick up the string, and in an effort to make it seem like he was looking for something more important, he pretends to keep looking on the ground. This leads to him being wrongfully accused of stealing a wallet and the rest of his life is spent trying to claim his innocence. I guess if you pick up some string from the ground, make sure no one sees you!

[Pham Tung · Rating 4 out of 5]

The story really shows how fast people judge and how stubborn pride can mess up your life. It’s a sharp reminder that sometimes, fighting too hard to prove you’re right just makes things worse.

Gotta say, Maupassant nails it here—the writing feels real and down-to-earth, and he turns something as simple as picking up a piece of string into a powerful lesson about human nature. That’s pretty brilliant.

[Hafsa Mounir حفصة منير · Rating 3 out of 5]

في مجتمع فلاحي حيث يكون يوم السوق الاسبوعي يوم مهم في حياة المزارعين يصف لنا الكاتب تلك الاجواء
يتهم (اوشوكورن) بسرقة بادعاء من عدوه
تلقي القصة الضوء على حقيقة تصديق الناس للرواية الاولى من الحدث مهما تجلت الحقائق بعد ذلك فالمرء لا يزعج نفسه بالتامل في الحدث و عدم استباق النتائج خصوصا ان كان ذلك راي الجماعة
نهاية القصة حزينة لرجل ظل يردد جملة انه بريء

[Magen - Inquiring Professional Dog Trainer · Rating 3 out of 5]

A well-written short story about the power of lies.

The audiobook version is currently free through the Audible app on the Audible Channel, Masters of Fiction: Short Stories. Big Names., but it won't last long as the channel regularly updates.

[Lloyd Hughes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ah, but it seems he dost protest too much. Falsely excused—nobody believes in his innocence. Exculpatory evidence comes to light, nobody believes in him. The more he protests, the less his audience believes, the more he deteriorates until he...4 stars.

[elise amaryllis · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5
i liked how this was written. reminded me of those stories you read as a kid to learn moral lessons, but make it (moderately) literary. the part about reputation was interesting but more interesting than that i found was the way the old man overthought and found himself wrapped up in his questioning of what everyone was thinking of him and trying to prove his innocence, to the point where he just tortured himself + made himself appear more guilty.

[Liz · Rating 3 out of 5]

It is so easy to believe the worst of people. A man on his way to town bends down to pick up a piece of string. He is observed by an enemy. The act is used against him much to his detriment. Library download, narrated by George Guidell.