The merry merchant seemed with all his heart to sympathise with Smelkoff’s way of spending his time.  “There, old fellow, that was something like!  Real Siberian fashion!  He knew what he was about, no fear!  That’s the sort of wench for me.”

The foreman was stating his conviction, that in some way or other the expert’s conclusions were the important thing.  Peter Gerasimovitch was joking about something with the Jewish clerk, and they burst out laughing.  Nekhludoff answered all the questions addressed to him in monosyllables and longed only to be left in peace.

When the usher, with his sideways gait, called the jury back to the Court, Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if he were not going to judge, but to be judged.  In the depth of his soul he felt that he was a scoundrel, who ought to be ashamed to look people in the face, yet, by sheer force of habit, he stepped on to the platform in his usual self-possessed manner, and sat down, crossing his legs and playing with his pince-nez.

The prisoners had also been led out, and were now brought in again.  There were some new faces in the Court witnesses, and Nekhludoff noticed that Maslova could not take her eyes off a very fat woman who sat in the row in front of the grating, very showily dressed in silk and velvet, a high hat with a large bow on her head, and an elegant little reticule on her arm, which was bare to the elbow.  This was, as he subsequently found out, one of the witnesses, the mistress of the establishment to which Maslova had belonged.

The examination of the witnesses commenced:  they were asked their names, religion, etc.  Then, after some consultation as to whether the witnesses were to be sworn in or not, the old priest came in again, dragging his legs with difficulty, and, again arranging the golden cross on his breast, swore the witnesses and the expert in the same quiet manner, and with the same assurance that he was doing something useful and important.

The witnesses having been sworn, all but Kitaeva, the keeper of the house, were led out again.  She was asked what she knew about this affair.  Kitaeva nodded her head and the big hat at every sentence and smiled affectedly.  She gave a very full and intelligent account, speaking with a strong German accent.  First of all, the hotel servant Simeon, whom she knew, came to her establishment on behalf of a rich Siberian merchant, and she sent Lubov back with him.  After a time Lubov returned with the merchant.  The merchant was already somewhat intoxicated—­she smiled as she said this—­and went on drinking and treating the girls.  He was short of money.  He sent this same Lubov to his lodgings.  He had taken a “predilection” to her.  She looked at the prisoner as she said this.

Nekhludoff thought he saw Maslova smile here, and this seemed disgusting to him.  A strange, indefinite feeling of loathing, mingled with suffering, arose in him.

“And what was your opinion of Maslova?” asked the blushing and confused applicant for a judicial post, appointed to act as Maslova’s advocate.