Kevin Young
Mr. Krucli
English 2 E-core
October 5, 2004
Exposition
ALONG ALL THE ROADS around Goderville the peasants and their wives were
coming toward the burgh because it was market day. The men were proceeding with
slow steps, the whole body bent forward at each movement of their long twisted
legs; deformed by their hard work, by the weight on the plow which, at the same
time, raised the left shoulder and swerved the figure, by the reaping of the
wheat which made the knees spread to make a firm "purchase," by all
the slow and painful labors of the country. Their blouses, blue,
"stiff-starched," shining as if varnished, ornamented with a little
design in white at the neck and wrists, puffed about their bony bodies, seemed
like balloons ready to carry them off. From each of them two feet protruded.
Some led a cow or a calf by a cord, and their wives, walking behind the animal,
whipped its haunches with a leafy branch to hasten its progress. They carried
large baskets on their arms from which, in some cases, chickens and, in others,
ducks thrust out their heads. And they walked with a quicker, livelier step
than their husbands. Their spare straight figures were wrapped in a scanty
little shawl pinned over their flat bosoms, and their heads were enveloped in a
white cloth glued to the hair and surmounted by a cap.
Then a wagon passed at the jerky trot of a nag, shaking strangely, two men
seated side by side and a woman in the bottom of the vehicle, the latter
holding onto the sides to lessen the hard jolts.
In the public square of Goderville there was a crowd, a throng of human beings
and animals mixed together. The horns of the cattle, the tall hats, with long
nap, of the rich peasant and the headgear of the peasant women rose above the
surface of the assembly. And the clamorous, shrill, screaming voices made a
continuous and savage din which sometimes was dominated by the robust lungs of
some countryman's laugh or the long lowing of a cow tied to the wall of a
house.
All that smacked of the stable, the dairy and the dirt heap, hay and sweat,
giving forth that unpleasant odor, human and animal, peculiar to the people of
the field.
This
is the exposition since it gives a description of what the people are doing in
the day and how they spend it. An example would be the people crowding around
the burgh on market days. Also what the people were doing which was guiding
animals and plowing.
Inciting Incident
Text from the story that contains the inciting incident:
Maître Hauchecome of Breaute had just arrived at Goderville, and he was directing his steps toward the public square when he perceived upon the ground a little piece of string. Maître Hauchecome, economical like a true Norman, thought that everything useful ought to be picked up, and he bent painfully, for he suffered from rheumatism. He took the bit of thin cord from the ground and began to roll it carefully when he noticed Maître Malandain, the harness maker, on the threshold of his door, looking at him.
Commentary that explains why the text you have pasted into your page is the inciting incident:
When Maitre Hauchcome picks the string off the ground, he commits the act that sets the story in motion. The simple act of picking up the piece of string will lead Malandain to accuse him of stealing the wallet and ultimately, to Hauchcome's death.
They had heretofore
had business together on the subject of a halter, and they were on bad terms,
both being good haters. Maître Hauchecome was seized with a sort of shame to be
seen thus by his enemy, picking a bit of a head. two arms and string out of the
dirt. He concealed his "find" quickly under his blouse, then in his
trousers' pocket; then he pretended to be still looking on the ground for
something which he did not find, and he went toward the market, his head
forward, bent double by his pains.
He was soon lost in the noisy and slowly moving crowd which was busy with
interminable bargainings. The peasants milked, went and came, perplexed, always
in fear of being cheated, not daring to decide, watching the vender's eye, ever
trying to find the trick in the man and the flaw in the beast.
The women, having placed their great baskets at their feet, had taken out the
poultry which lay upon the ground, tied together by the feet, with terrified
eyes and scarlet crests.
They heard offers, stated their prices with a dry air and impassive face, or
perhaps, suddenly deciding on some proposed reduction, shouted to the customer
who was slowly going away: "All right, Maître Authirne, I'll give it to
you for that."
Then lime by lime the square was deserted, and the Angelus ringing at noon,
those who had stayed too long scattered to their shops.
At Jourdain's the great room was full of people eating, as the big court was
full of vehicles of all kinds, carts, gigs, wagons, dumpcarts, yellow with
dirt, mended and patched, raising their shafts to the sky like two arms or
perhaps with their shafts in the ground and their backs in the air.
Just opposite the diners seated at the table the immense fireplace, filled with
bright flames, cast a lively heat on the backs of the row on the right. Three
spits were turning on which were chickens, pigeons and legs of mutton, and an
appetizing odor of roast beef and gravy dripping over the nicely browned skin
rose from the hearth, increased the jovialness and made everybody's mouth
water.
All the aristocracy of the plow ate there at Maître Jourdain's, tavern keeper
and horse dealer, a rascal who had money.
The dishes were passed and emptied, as were the jugs of yellow cider. Everyone
told his affairs, his purchases and sales. They discussed the crops. The
weather was favorable for the green things but not for the wheat.
Suddenly the drum beat in the court before the house. Everybody rose, except a
few indifferent persons, and ran to the door or to the windows, their mouths
still full and napkins in their hands.
After the public crier had ceased his drumbeating he called out in a jerky
voice, speaking his phrases irregularly:
"It is hereby made known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in general
to all persons present at the market, that there was lost this morning on the
road to Benzeville, between nine and ten o'clock, a black leather pocketbook
containing five hundred francs and some business papers. The finder is
requested to return same with all haste to the mayor's office or to Maître
Fortune Houlbreque of Manneville; there will be twenty francs reward."
Then the man went away. The heavy roll of the drum and the crier's voice were
again heard at a distance.
Then they began to talk of this event, discussing the chances that Maître
Houlbreque had of finding or not finding his pocketbook.
And the meal concluded. They were finishing their coffee when a chief of the
gendarmes appeared upon the threshold.
He inquired:
"Is Maître Hauchecome of Breaute here?"
Maître Hauchecome, seated at the other end of the table, replied:
"Here I am."
And the officer resumed:
"Maître Hauchecome, will you have the goodness to accompany me to the
mayor's office? The mayor would like to talk to you."
The peasant, surprised and disturbed, swallowed at a draught his tiny glass of
brandy, rose and, even more bent than in the morning, for the first steps after
each rest were specially difficult, set out, repeating: "Here I am, here I
am."
Climax
He approached a farmer from Crequetot who did not let him finish and, giving
him a thump in the stomach, said to his face:
"You big rascal."
Then he turned his back on him.
Maître Hauchecome was confused; why was he called a big rascal?
When he was seated at the table in Jourdain's tavern he commenced to explain
"the affair."
A horse dealer from Monvilliers called to him:
"Come, come, old sharper, that's an old trick; I know all about your piece
of string!"
Hauchecome stammered:
"But since the pocketbook was found."
But the other man replied:
"Shut up, papa, there is one that finds and there is one that reports. At
any rate you are mixed with it."
This is considered the climax since he is now being picked on and called a “big rascal”, Hauchecome replies to him saying that the pocketbook was found but it doesn’t matter since he is told that he was mixed up in it at any rate.
The peasant stood choking. He understood. They accused him
of having had the pocketbook returned by a confederate, 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, the more
dejected that he was capable, with his Norman cunning, of doing what they had accused
him of and ever boasting of it as of a good turn. His innocence to him, in a
confused way, was impossible to prove, as his sharpness was known. And he was
stricken to the heart by the injustice of the suspicion.
Then he began to recount the adventures again, prolonging his history every
day, adding each time new reasons, more energetic protestations, more solemn
oaths which he imagined and prepared in his hours of solitude, his whole mind
given up to the story of the string. He was believed so much the less as his
defense was more complicated and his arguing more subtile.
"Those are lying excuses," they said behind his back.
He could not finish his dinner and went away in the midst of jeers.
This represents the stories falling action since the main event ended when he was talking to the mayor about being accused of stealing a pocketbook. This part of the story just has the decline of action which is him being upset that everyone thinks he is a thief. It also shows him being angry that the more he protests his innocents the more he is accused of the criminal act.
Resolution (Denouement)
Toward 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, M'sieu the
Mayor."
This represents the resolution since it is telling you how the story ended which was with Maître Hauchecome claiming his innocence and then dying in the first few days of January.