The prosecutor spoke at great length, endeavoring on the one hand to remember all those wise sayings which he had prepared for the occasion, and on the other, most important, hand, not to stop for a moment, but to make his speech flow uninterruptedly for an hour and a quarter.  He stopped only once, for a long time swallowing his saliva, but he immediately mastered himself and made up for the lost time by a greater flow of eloquence.  He spoke in a gentle, insinuating voice, resting now on one foot, now on the other, and looking at the jury; then changed to a calm, business tone, consulting his note-book, and again he thundered accusations, turning now to the spectators, now to the jury.  But he never looked at the prisoners, all three of whom stared at him.  He incorporated into his speech all the latest ideas then in vogue in the circle of his acquaintances, and what was then and is now received as the last word of scientific wisdom.  He spoke of heredity, of innate criminality, of Lombroso, of Charcot, of evolution, of the struggle for existence, of hypnotism, of hypnotic suggestion, and of decadence.

The merchant Smelkoff, according to the prosecutor, was a type of the great, pure Russian, with his broad nature, who, in consequence of his trusting nature and generosity, had become a victim of a gang of corrupt people, into whose hands he had fallen.

Simon Kartinkin was the atavistic production of serfdom, stupid, without education, and even without religion.  Euphemia was his mistress, and a victim of heredity.  All the symptoms of degenerate life were in her.  But the ruling spirit in this crime was Maslova, who was the mouthpiece of the lowest phenomenon of decadence.  “This woman,” said the prosecutor without looking at her, “received an education—­you have heard here the evidence of her mistress.  Not only can she read and write, but she can speak French.  She is an orphan, and probably bears the germs of criminality in her.  She was raised in an intelligent, noble family, and could make her living by honest toil, but she leaves them, yields to her passions, and displays an intelligence, and especially, as you have heard here, gentlemen of the jury, an ability to exert influence on people by that mysterious, lately discovered by science, especially by the school of Charcot, power known by the name of hypnotic suggestion.  By the aid of this power she gets control over this hero—­a kind, trustful, rich guest, and uses his confidence first to rob him, and then to pitilessly murder him.”

“But he is wandering away,” said the justiciary, smiling and leaning over to the stern associate.

“What an awful blockhead!” said the stern associate.

“Gentlemen of the jury!” the prosecutor continued meanwhile, gracefully swaying his slim body.  “The fate of these people is in your hands, as is to some extent the fate of society, which is influenced by your verdict.  You must fathom the significance of this crime, the danger to society that lurks in such pathological, as it were, individuals as Maslova.  You must guard it against infection; it is your duty to guard the innocent, healthy elements of society against contagion, if not destruction.”