The jurymen rang the bell.  The gendarme who had stood outside the door with his sword drawn put the sword back into the scabbard and stepped aside.  The judges took their seats and the jury came out one by one.

The foreman brought in the paper with an air of solemnity and handed it to the president, who looked at it, and, spreading out his hands in astonishment, turned to consult his companions.  The president was surprised that the jury, having put in a proviso—­without intent to rob—­did not put in a second proviso—­without intent to take life.  From the decision of the jury it followed that Maslova had not stolen, nor robbed, and yet poisoned a man without any apparent reason.

“Just see what an absurd decision they have come to,” he whispered to the member on his left.  “This means penal servitude in Siberia, and she is innocent.”

“Surely you do not mean to say she is innocent?” answered the serious member.

“Yes, she is positively innocent.  I think this is a case for putting Article 817 into practice (Article 817 states that if the Court considers the decision of the jury unjust it may set it aside).”

“What do you think?” said the president, turning to the other member.  The kindly member did not answer at once.  He looked at the number on a paper before him and added up the figures; the sum would not divide by three.  He had settled in his mind that if it did divide by three he would agree to the president’s proposal, but though the sum would not so divide his kindness made him agree all the same.

“I, too, think it should be done,” he said.

“And you?” asked the president, turning to the serious member.

“On no account,” he answered, firmly.  “As it is, the papers accuse the jury of acquitting prisoners.  What will they say if the Court does it?  I, shall not agree to that on any account.”

The president looked at his watch.  “It is a pity, but what’s to be done?” and handed the questions to the foreman to read out.  All got up, and the foreman, stepping from foot to foot, coughed, and read the questions and the answers.  All the Court, secretary, advocates, and even the public prosecutor, expressed surprise.  The prisoners sat impassive, evidently not understanding the meaning of the answers.  Everybody sat down again, and the president asked the prosecutor what punishments the prisoners were to be subjected to.

The prosecutor, glad of his unexpected success in getting Maslova convicted, and attributing the success entirely to his own eloquence, looked up the necessary information, rose and said:  “With Simeon Kartinkin I should deal according to Statute 1,452 paragraph 93.  Euphemia Botchkova according to Statute . . ., etc.  Katerina Maslova according to Statute . . ., etc.”

All three punishments were the heaviest that could be inflicted.

“The Court will adjourn to consider the sentence,” said the president, rising.  Everybody rose after him, and with the pleasant feeling of a task well done began to leave the room or move about in it.