Nekhludoff was in this state of mind when he left the court-room and
entered the jury-room. He sat near the window, listening to the
conversations of his fellow jurymen, and smoked incessantly.
The cheerful merchant evidently sympathized with Merchant Smelkoff's
manner of passing his time.
"Well, well! He went on his spree just like a Siberian! Seems to have
known a good thing when he saw it. What a beauty!"
The foreman expressed the opinion that the whole case depended on the
expert evidence. Peter Gerasimovich was jesting with the Jewish clerk,
and both of them burst out laughing. Nekhludoff answered all questions
in monosyllables, and only wished to be left in peace.
When the usher with the sidling gait called the jury into court
Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if judgment was to be passed on
him, and not he to pass judgment on others.
In the depth of his soul he already felt that he was a rascal, who
ought to be ashamed to look people in the face, and yet, by force of
habit, he walked to the elevation with his customary air of
self-confidence, and took his seat next to the foreman, crossed his
legs and began to play with his pince-nez.
The prisoners, who had also been removed from the court, were brought
in again.
The new faces of witnesses were now seen in the court-room, and
Nekhludoff noticed Maslova constantly turning her head in the
direction of a smartly attired, stout woman in silk and plush, with an
elegant reticule hanging on her half-bare arm. This was, as Nekhludoff
afterward learned, Maslova's mistress and a witness against her.
The examination of the witnesses began as to their names, age,
religion, et cetera. After being questioned as to whether they
preferred to testify under oath, the same old priest, with difficulty
moving his legs, came, and again arranging the gold cross on his
silk-covered breast, with the same calmness and confidence, began to
administer the oath to the witnesses and the expert. When the swearing
in was over, the witnesses were removed to an adjoining room, leaving
only Kitaeva, Maslova's mistress. She was asked what she knew of the
affair. Kitaeva, with a feigned smile, a German accent, and
straightening her hat at every sentence, fluently and circumstantially
related the following:
Simon came first to her house for Liubasha.[E] In a little while
Liubasha returned with the merchant. "The merchant was already in
ecstasy," slightly smiling, said Kitaeva, "and he continued to drink
and treat himself, but as he was short of money he sent to his room
this same Liubasha, for whom he acquired a predilection," she said,
looking at Maslova.
It seemed to Nekhludoff that Maslova smiled at this, and the smile
seemed to him disgusting. A strange feeling of squeamishness mingled
with compassion rose in his breast.
"What opinion did you entertain of Maslova?" timidly and blushingly
asked the attorney assigned by the court to defend Maslova.
"Very excellent," answered Kitaeva. "The girl is very well educated
and elegant in her manners. She was raised in a very good family, and
could read French. She sometimes drank a little too much, but she
never forgot herself. She is a very good girl."
Katiousha looked at her mistress, then suddenly turned her eyes on the
jury and rested them on Nekhludoff, her face becoming serious and even
stern. One of the stern eyes squinted. These strangely gazing eyes
were turned on Nekhludoff for a considerable time. Notwithstanding the
terror that seized him, he could not remove his own gaze from those
squinting eyes with their shining whites. He recalled that awful night
with the breaking ice, the fog, and especially that waning, upturned
moon which rose in the morning and lit up something dark and terrible.
These two black eyes which looked at and at the same time by him
reminded him of something dark and terrible.
"She recognized me!" he thought. And Nekhludoff shrank, as it were,
waiting for the blow. But she did not recognize him. She sighed calmly
and again fixed her eyes on the justiciary. Nekhludoff also sighed.
"Ah, if they would only hasten it through," he thought. He felt now as
he did once when out game shooting, when he was obliged to kill a
wounded bird--he was filled with disgust, pity and vexation. The
wounded bird is struggling in the game bag; he feels disgust and pity,
and wishes to kill it quickly and forget it.
Such mingled feelings filled Nekhludoff's breast as he sat listening
to the examination of the witnesses.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote E: A contemptuous diminutive of Liuba. Tr.]