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.