here 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 give up hope, when on the very last day before it was
necessary that he should start of 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 pounds than Marzinne ever dreamed
of?' whispered the sorcerer glancing round to make sure that no one
overheard him.

'You?'

'Yes, I.'

'And what am I to do to gain the money,' inquired Bernez, who knew quite
well that the Breton peasant gives nothing for nothing.

'What I want of you only needs a little courage,' answered the old man.

'If that is all, tell me what I have got to do, and I will do it,' cried
Bernez, letting fall his chisel. 'If I have to risk thirty deaths, I am
ready.'

When the beggar knew that Bern