“What nastiness,” said Bay, with disgust.

“Why; where is the harm of it?  I can show you a Russian book containing the project of a German writer, who openly proposes that it should not be considered a crime,” said Skovorodnikoff, drawing in greedily the fumes of the crumpled cigarette, which he held between his fingers close to the palm, and he laughed boisterously.

“Impossible!” said Bay.

“I shall show it you,” said Skovorodnikoff, giving the full title of the book, and even its date and the name of its editor.

“I hear he has been appointed governor to some town in Siberia.”

“That’s fine.  The archdeacon will meet him with a crucifix.  They ought to appoint an archdeacon of the same sort,” said Skovorodnikoff.  “I could recommend them one,” and he threw the end of his cigarette into his saucer, and again shoved as much of his beard and moustaches as he could into his mouth and began chewing them.

The usher came in and reported the advocate’s and Nekhludoff’s desire to be present at the examination of Maslova’s case.

“This case,” Wolf said, “is quite romantic,” and he told them what he knew about Nekhludoff’s relations with Maslova.  When they had spoken a little about it and finished their tea and cigarettes, the Senators returned into the Senate Chamber and proclaimed their decision in the libel case, and began to hear Maslova’s case.

Wolf, in his thin voice, reported Maslova’s appeal very fully, but again not without some bias and an evident wish for the repeal of the sentence.

“Have you anything to add?” the chairman said, turning to Fanarin.  Fanarin rose, and standing with his broad white chest expanded, proved point by point, with wonderful exactness and persuasiveness, how the Court had in six points strayed from the exact meaning of the law; and besides this he touched, though briefly, on the merits of the case, and on the crying injustice of the sentence.  The tone of his speech was one of apology to the Senators, who, with their penetration and judicial wisdom, could not help seeing and understanding it all better than he could.  He was obliged to speak only because the duty he had undertaken forced him to do so.

After Fanarin’s speech one might have thought that there could not remain the least doubt that the Senate ought to repeal the decision of the Court.  When he had finished his speech, Fanarin looked round with a smile of triumph, seeing which Nekhludoff felt certain that the case was won.  But when he looked at the Senators he saw that Fanarin smiled and triumphed all alone.  The Senators and the Public Prosecutor did not smile nor triumph, but looked like people wearied, and who were thinking “We have often heard the like of you; it is all in vain,” and were only too glad when he stopped and ceased uselessly detaining them there.  Immediately after the end of the advocate’s speech the chairman turned to the Public Prosecutor.  Selenin briefly and