The priest was now only striving to gain time, which as he knew full well is the sovereign balm for sorrow. His confidence had been very great at first, but it had sensibly diminished since he had questioned an old woman, who had the reputation of being one of the greatest gossips of the community. On being skilfully catechised by the abbe, this worthy dame replied that she knew nothing of such a child, but that there must be one in the neighbourhood, as this was the third time she had been questioned on the subject. Intense as was his surprise, the abbe succeeded in concealing it. He set the old gossip talking, and after two hours’ conversation, he arrived at the conclusion that two persons in addition to Maurice were searching for Marie-Anne’s child. Who these persons were and what their aim was, were points which the abbe failed to elucidate. “Ah” thought he, “after all, rascals have their use on earth. If we only had a man like Chupin to set on the trail!” The old poacher was dead, however, and his eldest son--the one who knew Blanche’s secret--was in Paris. Only the widow and the second son remained at Sairmeuse. They had not, as yet, succeeded in discovering the twenty thousand francs, but the fever for gold was still burning in their veins, and they persisted in their search. From morn till night the mother and son toiled on, until the earth round their hut had been fully explored to the depth of six feet. However, a peasant passed by one day and made a remark which suddenly caused them to abandon their search. “Really, my boy,” he said, addressing young Chupin, “I didn’t think you were such a fool as to persist in bird’s nesting after the chick was hatched and had flown. Your brother in Paris can no doubt tell you where the treasure was concealed.” “Holy Virgin! you’re right!” cried the younger Chupin. “Wait till I get money enough to take me to Paris, and we’ll see.” XXXVI.