7

FINALLY Matvey Nikitich arrived, and the usher, a thin man with a long neck and sidling gait, and a lower lip that protruded sideways too, came into the jury-room.

The usher was an honest fellow who had had a university education but could never keep a position for any length of time because of his periodical bouts of drunkenness. Three months before, a certain countess who took an interest in his wife had obtained his present post for him, and he had so far been able to hold it, which made him feel happy.

‘Well, gentlemen, are you all here?’ he said, fitting his pince-nez on his nose and looking over them.

‘Yes, I think so,’ said the jovial merchant.

‘All right, we’ll soon see,’ said the usher, and, taking a list from his pocket, he began to call out the names, looking at those he called sometimes through and sometimes over his pince-nez.

‘Councillor of State¹ I. M. Nikiforov.’

‘Present,’ said the imposing-looking gentleman who knew all about legal matters.

‘Ivan Semyonovich Ivanov, retired colonel?’

‘Here,’ answered the thin man in the uniform of a retired officer.

‘Merchant of the Second Guild Piotr Baklashov.’

‘Ay, ay,’ said the good-humoured merchant, grinning. ‘All ready!’

‘Guards’ lieutenant, Prince Dmitri Nekhlyudov.’

‘Present,’ replied Nekhlyudov.

The usher looked at him over his pince-nez and welcomed him with a particularly polite bow, as though wishing to honour him above the rest.

‘Captain Yuri Dmitriyevich Danchenko, Grigori Yefi-movich Kuloshov, merchant!’ etc., etc. All but two were present.

‘Now, gentlemen, please proceed to the court,’ said the usher, pointing to the door with an amiable wave of his hand.

They all moved towards the door, where they paused to make way for each other to pass into the corridor and thence into the court-room.

The court-room was a large, long room. One end was occupied by a platform with three steps leading up to it. In the middle of the platform stood a table covered with a green cloth having a fringe of darker green. Behind the table were three arm-chairs with very high carved oak backs; and on the wall behind hung a striking full-length portrait in a gilt frame of a general in uniform and sash, one foot advanced, grasping a sword. In the right-hand corner of the hall hung a case with an ikon of Christ crowned with thorns; a lectern stood beneath the ikon and to the right of the lectern was the public prosecutor’s desk. On the left, opposite the desk and well back, was the secretary’s little table, while nearer to the public was a railing of turned oak, with the prisoner’s bench, as yet unoccupied, behind it. On the platform towards the right there were two rows of high-backed chairs for the jurors and on the floor below were the tables for the lawyers. All this was in the front part of the court, which was divided from the rear by a railing. The back was all taken up by benches, rising tier upon tier till they reached the wall. Sitting on the front benches were four women – factory girls or chambermaids – and a couple of working-class men, all evidently overawed by the grandeur of the court-room and therefore not venturing to speak above a whisper.

Soon after the jury had entered the usher stepped into the middle of the court-room with his sidling gait, and in a loud voice calculated to inspire dread in those present proclaimed:

‘The Court approaches!’

Everybody rose, and the judges walked on to the platform: the president with his muscles and fine side-whiskers came first; next, the gloomy member of the court in his gold-rimmed spectacles, now more gloomy than ever, having a moment before the sessions opened run into his brother-in-law, a candidate for some position in the government legal department, who informed him that he had just called in to see his sister (the member’s wife), and she had told him there would be no dinner at home that day.

‘So it looks as if we shall have to go to some pot-house,’ the brother-in-law had added, laughing.

‘I don’t see anything funny in that,’ said the gloomy member of the court, and grew gloomier still.

And, finally, the third member of the court, that same Matvey Nikitich who was always late – he was a bearded man with large, bulging, kindly eyes. He suffered from gastric catarrh and on his doctor’s advice had that very morning begun a new treatment, which had delayed him at home even longer than usual. Now, as he ascended the steps to the platform, his face wore an expression of deep concentration, resulting from a habit he had of using various curious means to decide the answers to questions which he put to himself. Just now he was counting the number of steps from the door of his study to his chair: if they would divide by three the new treatment would cure his catarrh. If not, the treatment would be a failure. There were twenty-six steps, but he managed to get in an extra short one and reached his chair exactly at the twenty-seventh.

The presiding judge and the members of the court in their uniforms with collars embroidered in gold lace made an impressive sight. They felt this themselves and as though embarrassed by their own grandeur kept their eyes lowered and hurriedly sat down in their carved chairs behind the table with the green cloth, on which stood a three-cornered object surmounted by an eagle, some glass jars like those used to hold sweetmeats that one sees in refreshment rooms, an inkstand, pens, lovely new paper and freshly sharpened pencils of various sizes. The assistant public prosecutor came in with the judges. Still hurrying, with his portfolio under one arm and swinging the other as before, he crossed to his place near the window and was instantly absorbed in reading and looking through the papers of the case, not wasting a moment to prepare himself for the business in hand. This was only the fourth occasion he had prosecuted. He was very ambitious and firmly determined to make a career, and so considered it essential to secure a conviction every time he prosecuted. He knew the general outline of the poisoning case and had already decided on the main points of his speech, but he still needed a few more facts and these he was hastily copying out.

The secretary sat at the opposite end of the platform and, having arranged all the documents that might be required, was looking through a newspaper article suppressed by the censor, which he had obtained and read the day before. He was anxious to discuss this article with the bearded member of the court, who shared his views, and wanted to become thoroughly familiar with it first.