They wrapped me in an old number of the Official Journal of the Commune. The following day we went to M. Worth, the Commissioner and I. The conversation was not long.
"Was this dress made by you?" the Commissioner asked.
"Yes; here's the mark."
"And for whom was it made?"
"Number 18,223. Wait a moment; I'll consult my books." The dress-maker came back in five minutes, and said to the Commissioner, "It was for the Baroness Z—— that I made this dress, eighteen months ago, and it isn't paid for."
THE INSURGENT
"Prisoner," said the President of the Council of War, "have you anything to add in your defence?"
"Yes, colonel," replied the prisoner. "The little lawyer you assigned me defended me according to his idea; I want to defend myself according to mine.
"My name is Martin (Lewis Joseph). I am fifty-five years old. My father was a locksmith. He had a little shop in the upper part of the Saint-Martin Quarter, and had a fair business. We just existed. I learned to read in the National, which was, I believe, the paper of M. Thiers.