Chapter 22 Part 1 - Nineteen

It was in this mood that Nekhludoff walked from the courtroom to the jury chamber.He sat by the window, listened to the conversation around him, and smoked incessantly. The jovial merchant evidently admired the manner in which the merchant Smelkoff was having fun. "Hey, man, he's got a good show, pure Siberian. He really has vision, and he has taken a fancy to such a little girl! " The chief juror made a comment, arguing that the crux of the case lies in identification.Pyotr Gerasimovitch was joking with the Jewish clerk, and laughed at something.Nekhludoff always answered only one or two words to people's questions.His only hope is that others will not bother him.

The magistrate came hobbling to invite the jurors back to the court, and Nekhludoff was terrified, as if he had not been the one who was being questioned, but that he was being brought to trial.Deep down, he felt that he was a villain, who had no face to look people in the eye, but he was used to it, and he walked up to the stage with dignity, next to the foreman, and sat down in his seat, one leg crossed the other. on his lap, playing with a pince-nez in his hand. The defendants had been taken out, and were now brought back under escort. There are several new people in the courtroom, all witnesses.Nekhludoff noticed that Maslova stared several times at the fat woman in satins, velvet, and jewels.This woman, wearing a tall hat with bows, her arms exposed to her elbows and a delicate handbag, is sitting in the first row in front of the railing.Nekhludoff found out later that she was a witness and the boss of the brothel where Maslova worked.

Begin questioning witnesses, asking them for their names, religion, etc.Then the presiding judge asks the judge whether the witness should take an oath.Then the old priest came out again with difficulty on his legs, straightened the gold cross on his silk surplice, and led the witnesses and judges with such composure, confident that he was doing something important and useful.When the oath was finished, all the witnesses were taken out except Bankitayeva, the brothel owner.The judge asked her what she knew about the case.Kitayeva put on a coquettish smile, and every time she said a word, she lowered her head in a high hat, and told the story in detail and methodically with a German accent.

First, the familiar hotel waiter Simon came to her brothel to find a girl for a wealthy Siberian merchant.She sent Lyubov.After a while, Liubov came back with the merchant. "That businessman is a bit confused," said Kitayeva, smiling, "he drank it when we got there, and offered it to the girls; but he didn't have any money with him, so he sent this Lyubov to his room." Go get it, he's pretty interested in her already," she said, casting a glance at the defendant. It seemed to Nekhludoff that Maslova smiled at this.This laugh made him sick.There was an indescribable disgust in his heart, but also a bit of pity.

"And what do you think of Maslova?" asked the cadet judge appointed to defend Maslova, blushing timidly. "Very well," replied Kitayeva, "the girl is educated and very stylish. She comes from a respectable family and can read French. She sometimes drinks a little too much, but she is never presumptuous. It is a very good thing." girl." Katyusha looked at the steward, but then suddenly turned her eyes to the jury, and rested on Nekhludoff.Her face became serious and even annoyed.One of her angry eyes was squinting.Those strange eyes stared at Nekhludoff for a long time.In spite of Nekhludoff's terror, he could not take his eyes off those squinting eyes, which were surprisingly white.He suddenly remembered that terrible night: the ice was cracked, the fog was thick, especially the waning moon that rose before dawn and its two corners turned downwards, illuminating the dark and gloomy ground.Those dark eyes seemed to be looking at him but also seemed not to be looking at him, reminding him of the dark, gloomy ground.

"She recognized her!" thought Nekhludoff.He huddled into a ball, as if waiting for a blow to the head.But she did not recognize him.She sighed calmly, and looked again at the President.Nekhludoff also sighed. "Well, let's hope it's over soon," he thought.At this moment, his mood was like that of a hunter who had to kill a wounded bird: disgust, pity, and regret.The little bird that hadn't breathed out kept fluttering in the hunting bag, which made people feel disgusting and pitiful. I really wanted to kill it quickly and forget about it. Nekhludoff, listening to the interrogation of the witnesses, felt a similar complication in his heart.