Finally Matvei Nikitich arrived, and the usher, a long-necked and lean
man, with a sideling gait and protruding lower lip, entered the
jury-room.
The usher was an honest man, with a university education, but he could
not hold any employment on account of his tippling habit. A countess,
his wife's patroness, had obtained him his present position three
months ago; he still retained it, and was exceedingly glad.
"Are you all here, gentlemen?" he asked, putting on his pince-nez and
looking through it.
"I think so," said the cheerful merchant.
"Let us see," said the usher, and drawing a sheet of paper from his
pocket, began to call the names of the jury, looking at those that
responded to their names now through his pince-nez, now over it.
"Counsilor of State E. M. Nikiforoff."
"Here," said the portly gentleman, who was familiar with all the
litigations.
"Retired Colonel Ivan Semionovich Ivanoff."
"Present," answered a lank man in the uniform of a retired officer.
"Merchant of the second guild, Peter Baklashoff."
"Here," said the good-natured merchant, smiling from ear to ear. "We
are ready."
"Lieutenant of the Guards, Prince Dmitri Nekhludoff."
"Here," answered Nekhludoff.
The usher, looking politely and pleasantly through his pince-nez,
bowed, thereby distinguishing him from the rest, as it were.
"Captain Uri Dmitrievich Danchenko; merchant Gregory Ephimovich
Kouleshoff," etc., etc., etc.
There were but two missing from the panel.
"You will now, gentlemen, walk into the court," said the usher,
pointing to the door with a polite sweep of the hand.
They all rose from their seats, and passing each other through the
door, made their way through the corridor to the court-room.
The court was held in a large, oblong room. At one end was a platform,
reached by three steps. In the middle of the platform stood a table,
covered with green cloth, which was fringed with a dark-green lace.
Behind the table stood three arm-chairs with high, carved backs. In an
image-case suspended in the right corner was a representation of
Christ with a crown of thorns, and beneath it a reading-desk, and on
the same side stood the prosecutor's desk. To the left, opposite this
desk, was the secretary's table, and dividing these from the seats
reserved for spectators was a carved railing, along which stood the
prisoners' bench, as yet unoccupied.
On an elevation to the right were two rows of chairs, also with high
backs, reserved for the jury; below these were tables for the
attorneys. All this was in the front part of the court-room, which was
divided in two by a railing. In the rear part of the room benches in
lines extended to the wall. In the front row sat four women, either
servants or factory employees, and two men, also workmen, who were
evidently awed by the grandeur of the ornamentations, and were timidly
whispering to each other.
Soon after the jurymen came the usher, who, walking sidewise to the
middle of the room, shouted, as if he meant to frighten those present:
"The court is coming!"
Everybody stood up, and the judges ascended the platform. First came
the presiding judge with his muscles and beautiful whiskers. Then came
the gold-spectacled, gloomy member of the court--now even more gloomy,
for before the opening of the session he met his brother-in-law, a
candidate for a judicial office, who told him that he had seen his
sister, and that she declared that there would be no dinner at home
this day.
"So that, it seems, we will have to dine at an inn," said the
brother-in-law, laughing.
"What is there droll about it?" said the gloomy member of the court,
and sank into a still deeper gloom.
And last of all came the third member of the court, that same Matvei
Nikitich, who was always late. He wore a long beard, and had large,
kindly eyes, with drooping eyelids. He suffered from catarrh of the
stomach, and by the advice of his physician had adopted a new regimen,
and this new regimen detained him this morning longer than usual. When
he ascended the platform he seemed to be wrapped in thought, but only
because he had the habit of making riddles of every question that
occurred to him. At this moment he was occupied with the following
enigmatical proposition:
If the number of steps in the distance between the cabinet-door and
the arm-chair will divide by three without a remainder, then the new
regimen will cure him; but if it does not so divide, then it will not.
There were twenty-six steps, but he made one short step and reached
the chair with the twenty-seventh.
As the judges ascended the elevation in their uniforms, with
gold-laced collars, they presented an imposing array. They themselves
felt it, and all three, as if confused by their own greatness,
modestly lowered their eyes, and hastily seated themselves behind the
table on which clean paper and freshly-pointed lead pencils of all
sizes had been placed. The prosecutor, who entered with the judges,
also hastily walked to his place near the window, his portfolio still
under his arm, and waving his hand he began to read the papers in the
case, utilizing every moment to prepare himself.
This was his fifth case as prosecuting attorney. He was ambitious, and
was determined to make his career, and hence he endeavored to obtain
a conviction in every case he prosecuted. He knew the main points of
the poisoning case, and had already planned his speech; but he needed
to know some particulars of which he was now making extracts from the
papers.
The secretary sat on the opposite side of the elevation, and, having
prepared all the papers that might be necessary to produce on trial,
was glancing over a newspaper article, which he had obtained and read
the day before. He was anxious to talk to the member of the court with
the long beard, who shared his views, and before doing so wished to
better familiarize himself with it.