"Look, good people, at this scoundrel. Look at him well, and then witness his chastisement."
The days of popular agitation were not entirely over, and appeals to the populace as well as debates and harangues in public places were by no means rare, so a crowd speedily gathered around the judge and the countryman, who, in spite of his gigantic stature, had not succeeded in freeing himself from the iron grasp of Cloarek, who, shaking him violently, continued in even more vociferous tones:
"I am judge of the court in this town, and this wretch has offered me gold to acquit a criminal. That is the indignity he has offered me, and this is going to be his punishment."
And this strange magistrate, whose rage and indignation seemed to endow him with superhuman strength, began to beat the stalwart countryman unmercifully, but the latter, wrenching himself from his assailant's grasp, sprang back a foot or two, and, lifting his heavy stick, would probably have inflicted a mortal blow upon the enraged Breton if the latter, by one of those adroit manœuvres well known to his compatriots, had not avoided the danger by stooping and rushing, with lowered head, straight upon his adversary with such violence that the terrible blow, delivered straight in the chest, broke two of his ribs, and threw him backward upon the ground unconscious; then, taking advantage of the excitement in the crowd, Cloarek, desirous of escaping a public ovation if possible, hurried away, and, catching sight of an empty cab, sprang into it and ordered the driver to take him to the Palace of Justice, the hour for the court to open having arrived.
CHAPTER II.
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.