'you are going to make me richer than the richest men of
Vannes or Lorient. But I have no time to lose; to-morrow I must begin to
hunt for the precious plants.'

He did not dare to seek too near Plouhinec, lest somebody who knew the
story might guess what he was doing, so he went away further towards the
south, where the air was softer and the plants are always green. From
the instant it was light, till the last rays had faded out of the sky,
he searched every inch of ground where the magic plants might grow; he
scarcely gave himself a minute to eat and drink, but at length he found
the crowsfoot in a little hollow! Well, that was certainly a great deal,
but after all, the crowsfoot was of no use without the trefoil, and
there was so little time left.

He had almost given up hope, when on the very last day before it was
necessary that he should start for Plouhinec, he came upon a little
clump of trefoil, half hidden under a rock. Hardly able to breathe from
excitement, he sat down and hunted eagerly through the plant which he
had torn up. Leaf after leaf he threw aside in disgust, and he had
nearly reached the end when he gave a cry of joy--the five-leaved
trefoil was in his hand.

The beggar scrambled to his feet, and without a pause walked quickly
down the road that led northwards. The moon was bright, and for some
hours he kept steadily on, not knowing how many miles he had gone, nor
even feeling tired. By and bye the sun rose, and the world began to
stir, and stopping at a farmhouse door, he asked for a cup of milk and
slice of bread and permission to rest for a while in the porch. Then he
continued his journey, and so, towards sunset on New Year's Eve, he came
back to Plouhinec.

* * * * *

As he was passing the long line of stones, he saw Bernez working with a
chisel on the tallest of them all.

'What are you doing there?' called the wizard, 'do you mean to hollow
out for yourself a bed in that huge column?'

'No,' replied Bernez quietly, 'but as I happened to have no work to do
to-day, I thought I would just carve a cross on this stone. The holy
sign can never come amiss.'

'I believe you think it will help you to win Rozennik,' laughed the old
man.

Bernez ceased his task for a moment to look at him.

'Ah, so you know about that,' replied he; 'unluckily Marzinne wants a
brother-in-law who has more pounds than I have pence.'

'And suppose I were to give you more pound