"Very well, you may think I am joking, if you want to," replied Segoffin, coldly, "but you had better give me monsieur's costume. He told me to take it up to his room, and he will be here before very long now."

"It is really true that there has been a scene between monsieur and the chief judge, then?" exclaimed Suzanne.

"Of course, as monsieur threw him out of the window."

"Oh, _mon Dieu_! _mon Dieu!_ Monsieur will lose his place this time, then."

"Why?"

"Why? Why, after such scandalous behaviour on the part of a magistrate he is sure to lose his office, I tell you, and poor madame! What a shock it will be to her in her condition. What a life she leads! obliged to be always on the watch, adoring her husband, but in mortal terror all the while as to what he may say or do. But tell me how you happened to hear of this calamity."

"Well, I went to the palace an hour ago to take monsieur a letter. I found the whole place in a hubbub. The lawyers and all the rest of the people in the building were racing to and fro, and asking: 'Have you heard about it?' 'Is it possible?' It seems that after the court adjourned, the presiding judge summoned M. Cloarek into his office. He wanted to see him about his duel, some said."

"His duel? What duel?"

"The duel he fought this morning," answered Segoffin, phlegmatically.

And taking advantage of his companion's speechless consternation, he continued:

"Others declared that the chief judge had sent for him to see about a fracas monsieur had had with a countryman whom he nearly killed."

"What countryman?" asked Suzanne, with increasing alarm.

"The last one," answered Segoffin, navely. "Well, it seems, or at least so they told me at the palace, that monsieur went into the presiding judge's private office; they got to quarrelling, and one man finally threw the other man out of the window, and I know monsieur so well,"

added Segoffin, with a satisfied smile, "that I said to myself, 'If any one was thrown out of the window it must have been the other man, not monsieur,' and I was right. There is no undoing that which has been done."

"There is no undoing that which has been done? That tiresome old saying is for ever in your mouth, it seems to me. Is it possible you cannot see the consequences of all this?"

"What is to be, will be."

"Fine consolation that, is it not? This is the third time monsieur has run a great risk of losing his place in consequence of giving way to his temper, and this time he will be put out, sure."

"Well, if he loses his place, he will lose it."

"Indeed! But he needs the office on account of his wife and little daughter, and as there will be still another mouth to feed before many months have pa.s.sed, what is to become of him and his family if he loses his position?"

"Your question is too much for me. I had better be getting up-stairs with this toggery, I know that, though."

"Have you lost your senses completely? Monsieur isn't really thinking of going to this entertainment to-night, after what has occurred!"

"He isn't? That shows how much you know about it."

"But after what has occurred, he surely will not go to this ball, I say."

"You see if he doesn't."

"What, go to a ball given by the presiding judge's father-in-law?"

"He is all the more likely to on that very account."

"But it is impossible, I tell you. Monsieur would not dare after all the scandalous occurrences of this unfortunate day. The whole town will be up in arms if he does."

"He is ready for them."

"He is ready for them?"

"Most a.s.suredly. He is not the man to draw back, no matter how many persons league themselves together against him," responded Segoffin, with a triumphant air. "I saw him after his row with the presiding judge, and I said to him, 'Aren't you afraid you will be arrested, M.

Yvon?' 'No one has any business to meddle with what pa.s.sed between me and the chief justice so long as he doesn't complain, and he is not likely to do that, for if the cause of our quarrel should be made public he would be hopelessly disgraced.' Those were monsieur's very words, Suzanne. 'Well, will you go to the ball just the same?' I asked.

'Certainly. I intend to be the first to go and the last to leave.

Otherwise people might think I regretted what I had done, or that I was afraid. If my presence at this fete scandalises anybody, and they show it in any way, I shall know what to say and do, never fear; so go back home, and have my costume ready for me when I get there.'"

"What a man of iron he is!" sighed Suzanne. "Always the same, and poor madame suspects nothing."

"I will take the costume up to monsieur's room and wait for him there, for I am as certain that he will go to this entertainment as I am that you will marry me some day, remember that."

"If such a misfortune is ever to befall me, I shall try to keep it out of my mind as much as possible," retorted Dame Roberts, curtly, as she hastened off to her mistress.

CHAPTER III.

THE WARNING.

At first Suzanne felt strongly inclined to inform Madame Cloarek of the momentous events which had occurred that day, but after reflecting on the effect this news might have upon the young wife, she abandoned that idea and resolved to confine herself to an effort to make her mistress devise some pretext for preventing M. Cloarek from attending the masquerade ball, realising that such an audacious act on his part might have the most disastrous consequences.

Suzanne's position was extremely trying, for it was necessary for her to conceal the events of the day from her mistress, on the one hand, and yet implore her to use her influence over her husband to prevent him from going to this entertainment, on the other.

She was consequently in a very perplexed frame of mind when she entered the apartment of her mistress, who, without being really beautiful in the general acceptation of the word, had a remarkably sweet and attractive face, though the extreme pallor of her complexion and her frail appearance generally indicated very delicate health.

Jenny Cloarek, seated beside a swinging crib, the silken curtains of which were closely drawn, was occupied with some embroidery, while with her little foot she occasionally imparted a gentle oscillatory motion to the little bed in which her five-year-old daughter was reposing. It was night, and the soft light of a lamp illumined the peaceful picture.

When Suzanne entered the room, Madame Cloarek held up a finger warningly, and said to her, in a low tone:

"Don't make a noise, Suzanne. My little Sabine is just going to sleep."

And as the maid approached on tiptoe her mistress added: "Has my husband returned yet?"

"No, madame."

"His going out so early this morning upset me for all day, for I was asleep when he came back, and so long a time seldom elapses without my seeing him. By the way, is his costume finished, and is it a success?

You know I promised my husband I would make no attempt to see it until I could see it on him."

"It is very handsome, madame."

"And you think it will prove becoming?"