New faces appeared every moment: now Monsieur Stoffel, the tax-collector, with his double gold chain and trinkets; now Hospos, the chemist, whose loud voice was heard out in the entrance-hall; now Monsieur Seypel, the Garde Général, all the seams of his coat embroidered with silver. All these gentlemen stopped for a moment at the bar, and addressed a few sprightly speeches to the fair Olympia, who tossed her head and smiled with infinite grace. They then seated themselves and called for newspapers. The conversation grew more animated, and turned upon the ball to be given by Madame la Sous-Préfète the names of persons who were to be present being mentioned. It was to be a grand entertainment for the wind-up of the season. A pâté de Strasbourg had been sent for. Monsieur le Garde Général smiled significantly. When partridges and quails were mentioned to him, he neither said “Yes” nor “No.” Then came confidences. Cards of invitation were drawn from waistcoat-pockets! “Ah! _you_ are going, my dear fellow! I’m delighted!” “And you too!” Congratulations were exchanged. But what completed the general satisfaction was to learn from the noble Baron Pipelnaz the approaching arrival of Monsieur le Préfet, of the Council of Revision. A thousand secret connections between this journey and Madame la Sous-Préfète’s ball were discovered. There was no doubt whatever that Monsieur le Préfet intended to be at the ball. What an event! All those who were invited looked at each other in a sort of ecstasy. To be at the same ball as Monsieur le Préfet! To take supper at the same table as Monsieur le Préfet! Those who had not yet received their cards of invitation continued their play, exclaiming, “Three kings! three aces!” very loudly, and as if they had heard nothing of the conversation. The pastor himself appeared very grave, and read his newspaper with sustained attention; but they could not conceal their discomfiture, which was clearly to be read in their faces. They were deeply mortified, and greatly to be commiserated. Small parties of intimate friends were formed to drink punch and mulled wine. Nothing was talked of on all sides but the grace of Madame la Sous-Préfète and the incomparable elegance of her suppers. The noble Baron Pipelnaz, mayor of the town, enlarged on the reception he intended to give Monsieur le Préfet. For twenty years Monsieur le Baron had bowed to him at the door of the Mairie; but, under circumstances so flattering, he proposed to go and meet him in full official costume, and even desired to present to him a short congratulatory address.