When the reading of the indictment was finished, the justiciary,
having consulted with his associates, turned to Kartinkin with an
expression on his face which plainly betokened confidence in his
ability to bring forth all the truth.
"Simon Kartinkin," he called, leaning to the left.
Simon Kartinkin rose, put out his chest, incessantly moving his
cheeks.
"You are charged, together with Euphemia Bochkova and Katherine
Maslova, with stealing from the trunk of the merchant Smelkoff money
belonging to him, and subsequently brought arsenic and induced Maslova
to administer it to Smelkoff, by reason of which he came to his death.
Are you guilty or not guilty?" he said, leaning to the right.
"It is impossible, because our business is to attend the guests----"
"You will speak afterwards. Are you guilty or not?"
"No, indeed. I only----"
"You can speak later. Do you admit that you are guilty?" calmly but
firmly repeated the justiciary.
"I cannot do it because----"
Again the usher sprang toward Simon and with a tragic whisper stopped
him.
The justiciary, with an expression showing that the questioning was at
an end, moved the hand in which he held a document to another place,
and turned to Euphemia Bochkova.
"Euphemia Bochkova, you, with Kartinkin and Maslova, are charged with
stealing, on the 17th day of January, 188-, at the Hotel Mauritania,
from the trunk of the merchant Smelkoff, money and a ring, and
dividing the same among yourselves, and with a view of hiding your
crime, administered poison to him, from the effects of which he died.
Are you guilty?"
"I am not guilty of anything," boldly and firmly answered the
prisoner. "I never entered the room--and as that scurvy woman did go
into the room, she, then, did the business----"
"You will speak afterwards," again said the justiciary, with the same
gentleness and firmness. "So you are not guilty?"
"I did not take the money, did not give him the poison, did not go
into the room. If I were in the room I should have thrown her out."
"You are not guilty, then?"
"Never."
"Very well."
"Katherine Maslova," began the justiciary, turning to the third
prisoner. "The charge against you is that, having come to the Hotel
Mauritania with the key to Smelkoff's trunk, you stole therefrom money
and a ring," he said, like one repeating a lesson learned by rote, and
leaning his ear to the associate sitting on his left, who said that he
noticed that the phial mentioned in the list of exhibits was missing.
"Stole therefrom money and a ring," repeated the justiciary, "and
after dividing the money again returned with the merchant Smelkoff to
the Hotel Mauritania, and there administered to him poison, from the
effects of which he died. Are you guilty or not guilty?"
"I am not guilty of anything," she answered, quickly. "As I said
before, so I repeat now: I never, never, never took the money; I did
not take anything, and the ring he gave me himself."
"You do not plead guilty of stealing twenty-five hundred rubles?" said
the justiciary.
"I say I didn't take anything but forty rubles."
"And do you plead guilty to the charge of giving the merchant Smelkoff
powders in his wine?"
"To that I plead guilty. Only I thought, as I was told, that they
would put him to sleep, and that no harm could come from them. I did
not wish, nor thought of doing him any harm. Before God, I say that I
did not," she said.
"So you deny that you are guilty of stealing the money and ring from
the merchant Smelkoff," said the justiciary, "but you admit that you
gave him the powders?"
"Of course, I admit, only I thought that they were sleeping powders.
I only gave them to him that he might fall asleep--never wished, nor
thought----"
"Very well," said the justiciary, evidently satisfied with the results
of the examinations. "Now tell us how it happened," he said, leaning
his elbows on the arms of the chair and putting his hands on the
table. "Tell us everything. By confessing frankly you will improve
your present condition."
Maslova, still looking straight at the justiciary, was silent.
"Tell us what took place."
"What took place?" suddenly said Maslova. "I came to the hotel; I was
taken to the room; he was there, and was already very drunk." (She
pronounced the word "he" with a peculiar expression of horror and with
wide-open eyes.) "I wished to depart; he would not let me."
She became silent, as if she had lost the thread of the story, or
thought of something else.
"What then?"
"What then? Then I remained there awhile and went home."
At this point the assistant public prosecutor half rose from his seat,
uncomfortably resting on one elbow.
"Do you wish to question the prisoner?" asked the justiciary, and
receiving an affirmative answer, motioned his assent.
"I would like to put this question: Has the prisoner been acquainted
with Simon Kartinkin before?" asked the assistant prosecutor without
looking at Maslova.
And having asked the question he pressed his lips and frowned.
The justiciary repeated the question. Maslova looked with frightened
eyes at the prosecutor.
"With Simon? I was," she said.
"I would like to know now, what was the character of the acquaintance
that existed between them. Have they met often?"
"What acquaintance? He invited me to meet guests; there was no
acquaintance," answered Maslova, throwing restless glances now at the
prosecutor, now at the justiciary.
"I would like to know why did Kartinkin invite Maslova only, and not
other girls?" asked the prosecutor, with a Mephistophelian smile,
winking his eyes.
"I don't know. How can I tell?" answered Maslova, glancing around her,
frightened, and for a moment resting her eyes on Nekhludoff. "He
invited whomever he wished."
"Is it possible that she recognized me?" Nekhludoff thought, with
horror. He felt his blood rising to his head, but Maslova did not
recognize him. She turned away immediately, and with frightened eyes
gazed at the prosecutor.
"Then the prisoner denies that she had intimate relations with
Kartinkin? Very well. I have no more questions to ask."
He removed his elbow from the desk, and began to make notes. In
reality, instead of making notes, he merely drew lines across his
notes, having seen prosecutors and attorneys, after an adroit
question, making memoranda of questions which were to crush their
opponents.
The justiciary did not turn immediately to the prisoner, because he
was at the moment asking his associate in the eye-glasses whether he
consented to the questions previously outlined and committed to
writing.
"What followed?" the justiciary continued.
"I came home," Maslova continued, looking somewhat bolder, "and went
to sleep. As soon as I was asleep our girl, Bertha, came and woke me.
'Your merchant is here again. Wake up.' Then he"--again she pronounced
it with evident horror--"he wished to send for wine, but was short of
money. Then he sent me to the hotel, telling me where the money was
and how much to take, and I went."
The justiciary was whispering at the time to his associate on the
left, and did not listen to Maslova, but to make it appear that he had
heard everything he repeated her last words.
"And you went. Well, what else?" he asked.
"I came there and did as he told me. I went to his room. I did not
enter it alone, but called Simon Michaelovich and her," she said,
pointing to Bochkova.
"She lies; I never entered----" Bochkova began, but she was stopped.
"In their presence I took four ten ruble bills," she continued.
"And while taking this money, did the prisoner see how much money
there was?" asked the prosecutor.
Maslova shuddered as soon as the prosecutor began to speak. She could
not tell why, but she felt that he was her enemy.
"I did not count it, but I saw that it was all hundred ruble bills."
"The prisoner saw hundred ruble bills. I have no other questions."
"Well, did you bring back the money?" asked the justiciary, looking at
the clock.
"I did."
"Well, what then?"
"Then he again took me with him," said Maslova.
"And how did you give him the powder in the wine?" asked the
justiciary.
"How? Poured it into the wine and gave it to him."
"Why did you give it to him?"
Without answering, she sighed deeply. After a short silence she said:
"He would not let me go. He exhausted me. I went into the corridor and
said to Simon Michaelovich: 'If he would only let me go; I am so
tired.' And Simon Michaelovich said: 'We are also tired of him. We
intend to give him sleeping powders. When he is asleep you can go.'
'All right,' I said. I thought that it was a harmless powder. He gave
me a package. I entered. He lay behind the partition, and ordered me
to bring him some brandy. I took from the table a bottle of
feen-champagne, poured into two glasses--for myself and him--threw the
powder into his glass and handed it to him. I would not have given it
to him if I had known it."
"And how did you come by the ring?" asked the justiciary.
"He presented it to me."
"When did he present it to you?"
"When we reached his room. I wished to depart. Then he struck me on
the head and broke my comb. I was angered, and wished to go. Then he
took the ring from his finger and gave it to me, asking me to stay,"
she said.
Here the assistant prosecutor again rose, and with a dissimulating
naiveness asked permission to ask a few more questions, which was
granted, and leaning his head on his gold-embroidered collar, he
asked:
"I would like to know how long was the prisoner in the room with
Smelkoff?"
Maslova was again terror-stricken, and with her frightened eyes
wandering from the prosecutor to the justiciary, she answered,
hurriedly:
"I do not remember how long."
"And does the prisoner remember entering another part of the hotel
after she had left Smelkoff?"
Maslova was thinking.
"Into the next room--an empty one," she said.
"Why did you enter that room?" said the assistant prosecutor,
impulsively.
"To wait for a cabriolet."
"Was not Kartinkin in the room with the prisoner?"
"He also came in."
"Why did he come in?"
"There was the merchant's feen-champagne left, and we drank it
together."
"Oh, drank together. Very well."
"And did the prisoner have any conversation with Simon, and what was
the subject of the conversation?"
Maslova suddenly frowned, her face turned red, and she quickly
answered:
"What I said? I know nothing more. Do what you please with me. I am
innocent, and that is all. I did not say anything. I told everything
that happened."
"I have no more questions to ask," said the prosecutor to the court,
and uplifting his shoulders he began to add to the memorandums of his
speech that the prisoner herself confessed to entering an empty room
with Simon.
There was a short silence.
"Have you anything else to say?"
"I have told everything," she said, sighing, and took her seat.
The justiciary then made some notes, and after he had listened to a
suggestion whispered by the associate on the left, declared a recess
of ten minutes, and, hastily rising, walked out of the court-room.
After the judges had risen, the jury, lawyers and witness also rose,
and with the pleasant feeling of having already performed part of an
important work, began to move hither and thither.
Nekhludoff walked into the jury-room and took a seat near the window.