“The sign of the cross never comes amiss, wherever it may be,” answered Bernet. “And as for wasting my time, no one seems to have any use for it at present. It is better for me to spend it in this way than to idle it away over nothing.” Suddenly a strange idea flashed into the beggar’s mind—a thought so strange and terrible that it made him turn pale. He drew nearer to the stone-cutter and laid his hand upon his arm. “Listen, Bernet,” said he; “you are a clever workman and an honest one as well, and yet all your work scarcely brings you in enough to live on. Suppose I were to tell you that in one night you might become rich—richer than the richest man in the village—so that there would be no desire that you could not satisfy; what would you think of that?” “I would think nothing of it, for I would know it was not true,” answered Bernet carelessly. “But it _is_ true; it is _true_, I tell you,” cried the beggar. “Listen, and I will tell you.” He drew still nearer to Bernet, so that his mouth almost touched the stone-cutter’s ear, and in a whisper he repeated to him the story he had heard the ox telling the donkey—the story of the treasure that was buried under the stones of Plouvinec. But it was only a part of the story that he told after all, for he did not tell Bernet that anyone who was rash enough to seek the treasure would be crushed by the stones unless he carried a five-leaved clover; nor did he tell him that if the treasure were carried away from the heath it would turn to ashes unless a human life had been sacrificed to the stones. As Bernet listened to the story he became very grave. His eyes shone through the fading light as he stared at the beggar’s face. “Why do you tell me this?” he asked. “And why are you willing to share the treasure that might be all your own? If you make me rich, what do you expect me to do for you in return?” “Do you not see?” answered the beggar. “You are much stronger than I. I, as you know, am a weak man and slow of movement. While the stones are away we two together could gather more than twice as much as I could gather myself. In return for telling you this secret, all I ask is that if we go there and gather all we can, and bring it away with us, you will make an even division with me—that you will give me half of all we get.” “That seems only just,” said Bernet slowly. “It would be strange if this story of the hidden treasure proved to be true. At any rate, I will come with you to the heath to-night. We will bring with us some large bags, and if we manage to secure even a small part of the gold you talk of I shall never cease to be grateful to you.” The beggar could not answer. His teeth were chattering, half with fear and half with excitement. The honest stone-cutter little guessed that the beggar was planning to sacrifice him to the stones in order that he himself might become a rich man.