Chapter 8 part one - five

When Nekhludoff entered the courthouse the corridors were already bustling. The bailiffs ran around with official documents in their hands, carrying out tasks, some at a fast pace, some at a trot, keeping their feet on the ground, the soles of their shoes scraping the floor, making rustling noises, and they were all out of breath.There was a steady stream of marshals, lawyers, and magistrates, and plaintiffs and defendants who were not in custody paced dejectedly by the walls, or sat waiting. "Where is the district court?" Nekhludoff asked a bailiff. "Which court do you want? There is the Civil Court, and there is the High Court."

"I'm a juror." "That's the Crown Court. You should have said it earlier. From here, take a right, then a left, and the second door is there." Nekhludoff followed his instructions. There were two people standing at the door of the bailiff's account: one was a well-built businessman, with a good-natured appearance, who had obviously just had a drink and a snack, and was in a good mood; the other was a Jewish clerk.They were discussing the price of furs when Nekhludoff came up to them and asked them if this was the jury's chamber. "That's it, sir, that's it. Are you a juror like us?" asked the good-natured merchant, winking happily. "Well, let's do it together," he continued, hearing Nekhludoff's affirmative answer. said with his hand, "It's going to be hard work. May I ask your surname?"

-------- ① In the Imperial Russian Merchant Guild, merchants were divided into three classes according to their capital, and small merchants had no right to participate. Nekhludoff gave his name and entered the jury chamber. In the small jury room, there were a dozen or so people from different walks of life.Everyone has just arrived, some are sitting, some are walking around, looking at each other and making introductions.There was one ex-soldier in military uniform, the rest were in dress or civilian clothes, and only one was in a peasant's tight tunic. Although many people put down their jobs to participate in the jury, and complained that it was troublesome, all of them were proud of themselves, thinking that they were doing a major social work.

Some of the jurors already knew each other, and some were still guessing each other's identities, but they were all talking, talking about the weather, about the early spring, and about the current case to be tried.Those who did not know Nekhludoff hastened to make his acquaintance, evidently considering it a special honor.Nekhludoff, however, found this to be quite natural, as he always did with strangers.If someone asked him why he thought he was superior to others, he would not be able to answer, because there was nothing outstanding in his life.He spoke fluent English, French, and German, and his shirts, clothes, ties, and cufflinks were top-notch, but none of that justified his superior status.He himself understands this level.Yet no doubt he was proud of it, and took the respect he was shown for granted.He gets angry if people don't respect him.It was precisely in the jury room that someone disrespected him displeased him.It turned out that one of the jurors was a man Nekhludoff knew, Pyotr Gerasimovitch (Nekhludoff didn't know his last name, and despised him so much that he never spoke to him), He worked as a tutor in his sister's house, and became a middle school teacher after graduating from university.Nekhludoff had always been disgusted by his informality, by his loud laughter, and in general by his 'rudeness', as Nekhludoff's sister called it.

"Well, even you fell in," Pyotr Gerasimovitch laughed at Nekhludoff. "Can't you escape too?" "I don't want to run away at all," answered Nekhludoff sternly and coldly. "Well, it's a civic devotion! But wait, they'll keep you from eating and sleeping. Then you'll be in a different tune!" Peter Gellar Simovic laughed louder and said. "The son of the high priest will soon be my brother and brother," thought Nekhludoff, with a look of extreme displeasure, as if he had just received news of the death of all his relatives.Nekhludoff left him and went into the crowd.There people gathered around a tall, clean-shaven, imposing man and listened to his beaming talk.This gentleman was talking about a case that was currently being heard in a civil court, and he seemed to know the case very well, calling out the names and paternal names of judges and eminent lawyers.He told how the famous lawyer, with all his powers, had turned the case so badly that the old lady, who was all on her side, had to come up with a lot of money to pay the other side.

"What a genius lawyer!" he said. Everyone listened in awe, and some wanted to intervene to express some impressions, but he interrupted them all, as if he was the only one who knew the whole story. Although Nekhludoff was late, he had to wait a long time.One of the judges has not come up to this moment, delaying the trial.