guilty?" said the Little Russian in
his slow, surging voice, shrugging his shoulders. "I did not murder
nor steal; I simply am not in agreement with an order of life in which
people are compelled to rob and kill one another."

"Answer briefly--yes or no?" the old man said with an effort, but
distinctly.

On the benches back of her the mother felt there was animation; the
people began to whisper to one another about something and stirred,
sighing as if freeing themselves from the cobweb spun about them by the
gray words of the porcelain-faced man.

"Do you hear how they speak?" whispered Sizov.

"Yes."

"Fedor Mazin, answer!"

"I don't want to!" said Fedya clearly, jumping to his feet. His face
reddened with excitation, his eyes sparkled. For some reason he hid
his hands behind his back.

Sizov groaned softly, and the mother opened her eyes wide in
astonishment.

"I declined a defense--I'm not going to say anything--I don't regard
your court as legal! Who are you? Did the people give you the right
to judge us? No, they did not! I don't know you." He sat down and
concealed his heated face behind Andrey's shoulders.

The fat judge inclined his head to the old judge and whispered
something. The old judge, pale-faced, raised his eyelids and slanted
his eyes at the prisoners, then extended his hand on the table, and
wrote something in pencil on a piece of paper lying before him. The
district elder swung his head, carefully shifting his feet, rested his
abdomen on his knees, and his hands on his abdomen. Without moving his
head the old judge turned his body to the red-mustached judge, and
began to speak to him quickly. The red-mustached judge inclined his
head to listen. The marshal of the nobility conversed with the
prosecuting attorney; the mayor of the city listened and smiled,
rubbing his cheek. Again the dull speech of the old judge was heard.
All four lawyers listened attentively. The prisoners exchanged
whispers with one another, and Fedya, smiling in confusion, hid his
face.

"How he cut them off! Straight, downright, better than all!" Sizov
whispered in amazement in the ear of the mother. "Ah, you little boy!"

The mother smiled in perplexity. The proceedings seemed to be nothing
but the necessary preliminary to something terrible, which would appear
and at once stifle everybody with its cold horror. But the calm words
of Pavel and Andrey had sounded so fearless and firm, as if utter