ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER.
We will leave M. Cloarek to make his way to the court-house after
exploits which would have done honour to one of the gladiators of old,
and say a few words in regard to the masquerade ball, to which the
impetuous magistrate's seconds had referred on their way back to town
after the duel.
This ball, a bold innovation for a provincial town, was to take place
that same evening at the house of M. Bonneval, a wealthy merchant, and
the father-in-law of the presiding judge of the court to which Yvon
Cloarek belonged, and all the members of the court having been invited
to this entertainment, and some disguise being obligatory, it had been
decided to wear either a black domino, or costumes of a sufficiently
grave character not to compromise the dignity of the body.
Cloarek was one of the invited guests. The account of his duel of the
morning as well as the chastisement he had inflicted upon the
countryman, though noised about the town, had not reached Madame
Cloarek's ears at nightfall, so the magistrate's household was calm, and
occupied, like many others in the town, in preparations for the
evening's festivities, for in those days masquerade parties were rare in
the provinces. The dining-room of the modest home, strewn with fabrics
of divers colours as well as scraps of gold and silver embroidery and
braid, looked very much like a dressmaker's establishment. Three young
sewing-women chattering like magpies were working there under the
superintendence of an honest, pleasant-faced woman about thirty years of
age, whom they called Dame Roberts. This worthy woman, after having
served as a nurse for M. Cloarek's daughter, now acted as maid, or
rather confidential attendant to Madame Cloarek; for, in consequence of
her devotion and faithful service, relations of affectionate familiarity
had been established between her and her mistress.
"One scallop more, and this embroidered ribbon will be sewed on the
hat," remarked one of the young sewing-women.
"I have finished hemming the sash," remarked the second girl.
"I have only two more silver buttons to sew on the waistcoat," added the
third.
"That is well, girls," said Dame Roberts. "M. Cloarek's costume will be
one of the most effective there, I am sure."
"It seems very odd to think of a judge in a masquerade costume, all the
same."
"Nonsense! don't they disguise themselves every day when they put their
robes on?"
"A judge's robe is not a disguise, but a badge of office, you ought to
understand," said Dame Roberts, severely.
"Excuse me, Dame Roberts," replied the offender, blushing to the roots
of her hair, "I meant no harm, I am sure."
"What a pity it is that Madame Cloarek is not going!" remarked one of
the other girls, in the hope of giving a more agreeable turn to the
conversation.
"Ah, if I were in Madame Cloarek's place, I wouldn't miss such an
opportunity. A masquerade ball! why, it is a piece of good fortune that
may present itself but once in a lifetime. But here comes M. Segoffin.
Good day, M. Segoffin! And how does M. Segoffin find himself to-day?"
The newcomer was a tall, thin man about forty years of age, with an
immensely long nose, slightly turned up at the end, which imparted a
very peculiar expression to his face. His complexion was so white and
his beardless face so impassible that he looked exactly like a clown,
and the resemblance was heightened by a pair of piercing black eyes,
which gave a mocking expression to his face, and by a small, round black
wig. A long gray overcoat, brown knee-breeches, blue and white striped
stockings, and low shoes with big silver buckles formed the every-day
costume of M. Segoffin, who carried a red umbrella under his arm and an
old cocked hat in his hand.
After having remained twenty years in the service of M. Cloarek's
father, at that gentleman's death he transferred his allegiance to the
son whom he had known as a child, and whom he served with unwearying
devotion.
On his entrance, as we have just remarked, he was greeted with mocking
laughs and exclamations of--
"Here comes M. Segoffin. Ah, good day, M. Segoffin!" But without losing
his habitual _sang-froid_ in the least, he laid his umbrella and hat
down on a chair, and, seizing the prettiest of his tormentors in his
long arms, kissed her loudly on both cheeks in spite of her shrieks and
spirited resistance. Well satisfied with this beginning, he was
preparing to repeat the offence when Madame Roberts, seizing him by one
of his coat-tails, exclaimed, indignantly:
"Segoffin, Segoffin! such behaviour is outrageous!"
"That which is done is done," said Segoffin, sententiously, passing his
long, bony hand across his lips with an air of retrospective enjoyment,
as the young sewing-woman quitted the room with her companions, all
laughing like mad and exclaiming: "Good night, M. Segoffin, good
night."
Left alone with the delinquent, Dame Roberts exclaimed:
"Would any one on earth but you coolly commit such enormities in the
respectable household of a magistrate?"
"What on earth do you mean, I should like to know?"
"Why, hugging and kissing that girl right under my very nose when you
are persecuting me with your declarations of love all the time."
"I do believe you're jealous!"
"Jealous! Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible. If I ever
do marry again,--which God forbid!--it certainly will not be you I
choose for a husband."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Perfectly sure."
"That which is to be, will be, my dear."
"But--"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed her phlegmatic companion, interrupting her with
the most positive air imaginable. "You are dying to marry me, and you
will marry me, so it is not worth while to say any more about it."
"You are right," exclaimed the woman, exasperated by her interlocutor's
overweening conceit. "I think, with you, that we had better drop the
subject. Monsieur's costume is finished. Take it up to his room, for he
will return from court very soon, I am sure."
"From court," sighed Segoffin, shaking his head sadly.
A sigh was such a rare thing for this impassive individual to indulge
in, that Dame Roberta's anxiety was aroused, and she asked, quickly:
"Why are you sighing like a furnace, you who display no emotion at all,
ordinarily?"
"I expected it," remarked Segoffin, shaking his head dubiously.
"What has happened? Tell me at once, for Heaven's sake."
"M. Cloarek has thrown the chief judge of the court out of the window,"
responded Segoffin, with another sigh.
"_Mon Dieu!_"
"There is no undoing that which is done."
"But what you say is absurd."
"It was out of a window on the first floor, so he didn't have far to
fall," said Segoffin, thoughtfully, "and the presiding judge is sure to
have landed on his feet as usual. He's a sharp fellow."
"Look here, Segoffin, I don't believe a single word you're telling me.
It is only one of those cock-and-bull stories you're so fond of
inventing, and it is really a shame for you to make merry at monsieur's
expense, when he has always been so kind to you."
"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, naïvely. "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 passed, 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 assuredly. 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 passed 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 fête 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.