ribbled on his paper, and then
resumed his soundless conversation with the marshal of the nobility,
who stroked his gray beard, rolled his large, beautiful eyes, and
smiled, nodding his head with importance. The city mayor sat with
crossed legs, and beat a noiseless tattoo on his knee, giving the play
of his fingers concentrated attention. The only one who listened to the
monotonous murmur of the voices seemed to be the district elder, who
sat with inclined head, supporting his abdomen on his knees and
solicitously holding it up with his hands. The old judge, deep in his
armchair, stuck there immovably. The proceedings continued to drag on
in this way for a long, long time; and ennui again numbed the people
with its heavy, sticky embrace.

The mother saw that this large hall was not yet pervaded by that cold,
threatening justice which sternly uncovers the soul, examines it, and
seeing everything estimates its value with incorruptible eyes, weighing
it rigorously with honest hands. Here was nothing to frighten her by
its power or majesty.

"I declare--" said the old judge clearly, and arose as he crushed the
following words with his thin lips.

The noise of sighs and low exclamations, of coughing and scraping of
feet, filled the hall as the court retired for a recess. The prisoners
were led away. As they walked out, they nodded their heads to their
relatives and familiars with a smile, and Ivan Gusev shouted to
somebody in a modulated voice:

"Don't lose courage, Yegor."

The mother and Sizov walked out into the corridor.

"Will you go to the tavern with me to take some tea?" the old man asked
her solicitously. "We have an hour and a half's time."

"I don't want to."

"Well, then I won't go, either. No, say! What fellows those are! They
act as if they were the only real people, and the rest nothing at all.
They'll all go scot-free, I'm sure. Look at Fedka, eh?"

Samoylov's father came up to them holding his hat in his hand. He
smiled sullenly and said:

"My Vasily! He declined a defense, and doesn't want to palaver. He was
the first to have the idea. Yours, Pelagueya, stood for lawyers; and
mine said: 'I don't want one.' And four declined after him. Hm,
ye-es."

At his side stood his wife. She blinked frequently, and wiped her nose
with the end of her handkerchief. Samoylov took his beard in his hand,
and continued looking at the floor.

"Now, this is the queer thing about it: you look at