falling on her knees in the corridor, kept repeatedly making the sign of
the Cross.

All reasoning was futile. She left them the same evening, having no
desire to be employed by such people.

Germaine babbled. Chamberlan lost his place, and he formed against them
a secret coalition, supported by the Abbe Jeufroy, Madame Bordin, and
Foureau.

Their way of living, so unlike that of other people, gave offence. They
became objects of suspicion, and even inspired a vague terror.

What destroyed them above all in public opinion was their choice of a
servant. For want of another, they had taken Marcel.

His hare-lip, his hideousness, and the gibberish he talked made people
avoid him. A deserted child, he had grown up, the sport of chance, in
the fields, and from his long-continued privations he became possessed
by an insatiable appetite. Animals that had died of disease, putrid
bacon, a crushed dog--everything agreed with him so long as the piece
was thick; and he was as gentle as a sheep, but utterly stupid.

Gratitude had driven him to offer himself as a servant to MM. Bouvard
and Pecuchet; and then, believing that they were wizards, he hoped for
extraordinary gains.

Soon after the first days of his employment with them, he confided to
them a secret. On the heath of Poligny a man had formerly found an ingot
of gold. The anecdote is related by the historians of Falaise; they were
ignorant of its sequel: Twelve brothers, before setting out on a voyage,
had concealed twelve similar ingots along the road from Chavignolles to
Bretteville, and Marcel begged of his masters to begin a search for them
over again. These ingots, said they to each other, had perhaps been
buried just before emigration.

This was a case for the use of the divining-rod. Its virtues are
doubtful. They studied the question, however, and learned that a certain
Pierre Garnier gives scientific reasons to vindicate its claims: springs
and metals throw out corpuscles which have an affinity with the wood.

"This is scarcely probable. Who knows, however? Let us make the
attempt."

They cut themselves a forked branch from a hazel tree, and one morning
set forth to discover the treasure.

"It must be given up," said Bouvard.

"Oh, no! bless your soul!"

After they had been three hours travelling, a thought made them draw up:
"The road from Chavignolles to Bretteville!--was it the old or the new
road? It must be the old!"

They went back, and rush