cknamed
"the Bourgeois," gave himself up.

To all questions he only answered this:

"I had known the man for two years, the woman for six months. They often
had me repair old furniture for them, because I am a clever workman."

And when he was asked:

"Why did you kill them?"

He would obstinately answer:

"I killed them because I wanted to kill them."

They could get nothing more out of him.

This man was undoubtedly an illegitimate child, put out to nurse and
then abandoned. He had no other name than Georges Louis, but as on
growing up he became particularly intelligent, with the good taste and
native refinement which his acquaintances did not have, he was nicknamed
"the Bourgeois," and he was never called otherwise. He had become
remarkably clever in the trade of a carpenter, which he had taken up. He
was also said to be a socialist fanatic, a believer in communistic
and nihilistic doctrines, a great reader of bloodthirsty novels,
an influential political agitator and a clever orator in the public
meetings of workmen or of farmers.

His lawyer had pleaded insanity.

Indeed, how could one imagine that this workman should kill his best
customers, rich and generous (as he knew), who in two years had enabled
him to earn three thousand francs (his books showed it)? Only one
explanation could be offered: insanity, the fixed idea of the unclassed
individual who reeks vengeance on two bourgeois, on all the bourgeoisie,
and the lawyer made a clever allusion to this nickname of "The
Bourgeois," given throughout the neighborhood to this poor wretch. He
exclaimed:

"Is this irony not enough to unbalance the mind of this poor wretch,
who has neither father nor mother? He is an ardent republican. What am
I saying? He even belongs to the same political party, the members of
which, formerly shot or exiled by the government, it now welcomes
with open arms this party to which arson is a principle and murder an
ordinary occurrence.

"These gloomy doctrines, now applauded in public meetings, have ruined
this man. He has heard republicans--even women, yes, women--ask for the
blood of M. Gambetta, the blood of M. Grevy; his weakened mind gave way;
he wanted blood, the blood of a bourgeois!

"It is not he whom you should condemn, gentlemen; it is the Commune!"

Everywhere could be heard murmurs of assent. Everyone felt that the
lawyer had won his case. The prosecuting attorney did not oppose him.

Then the presiding jud