And the prisoner left on one side, and the visitor on the other.

Now compare the crime of Pique-Vinaigre, a robber, to the offense of
Boulard, the bailliff. Compare the point of departure from virtue of the
two, and the reasons, necessities, which have pushed them on to crime.
Compare, finally, the punishment that awaits them. Coming out of prison,
inspiring everywhere fear and indifference, the liberated convict could not
follow, in the residence appointed him, the trade he knew; he hoped to be
able to work at an occupation dangerous to his life, but suitable for his
strength; this resource failed him.

Then he breaks his terms of release, returns to Paris, contriving to
conceal his former life and find some work. He arrives, exhausted with
fatigue, dying with hunger; by chance he discovers that a sum of money is
deposited in a neighboring house; he yields to temptation, he forces a
window, opens a desk, steals one hundred francs, and flies. He is arrested,
is a prisoner. He will be tried, condemned. For a second crime, fifteen or
twenty years of hard labor and the pillory is what awaits him. He knows it.
This formidable punishment he deserves. Property is sacred. He who, at
night, breaks open your doors to take your goods ought to undergo a severe
penalty. In vain shall the culpable plead the want of work, poverty, his
position so difficult and intolerable, the wants which this position, this
condition of a liberated convict, imposes on him. So much the worse; there
is but one law. Society, for its peace and safety, will and ought to be
armed with boundless power, and without pity repress these audacious
attacks upon others.

Yes, this wretch, ignorant and stupid, this corrupted and despised convict,
has merited his fate. But what shall he then deserve who, intelligent,
rich, educated, surrounded by the esteem of all, clothed with an official