Affairs were growing mysterious. Why in the world, if they had stolen the box, had they troubled to make a hole in the leather bag to take the money out? It would have been much easier to have carried off the whole lot; receptacle and its contents together.
A brilliant idea occurred to me. I zealously continued my digging, and a foot and a half deeper down my spade hit at last against an obstacle.
"Here is the box!" I cried.
And the box it was indeed.
A mole, attracted by the smell of the leather enclosed, had burrowed to get at it. It had disturbed the soil, and the box, dragged down by its own weight, had fallen into the pit made by the blind miner.
My mother quickly opened the box, and found that not one louis was missing.
The cart was loaded that evening, the horse put into the shafts, and we set off along the road to Paris.
I was enchanted: we were about to pay a second visit to the capital of the civilised world, and, although it was in a deplorable condition, I was no less anxious to see it.
Unfortunately we were not rich enough, with our few louis, to stay in Paris. This was a matter that had not occurred to me.