“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.