Bibi’s face was all white and twisted.
“You have their word for it.”
“And your violence to-day tells us the truth. If you had no grudge against these people, why did you lie, why did you raise a crowd against them, why did you try to kill this man?”
Bibi shrugged.
“It can pass,” he said, and Clemenceau smiled.
“Now then, when you came to Beaucourt a second time, what did you do?”
“I put up a hut.”
“Yes?”
“I sold wine.”
“To the peasants?”