CHAPTER XXIII.
THE TRIAL--THE VERDICT.
At last the president finished his speech, and lifting the list
of questions with a graceful movement of his arm he handed it to
the foreman, who came up to take it. The jury, glad to be able to
get into the debating-court, got up one after the other and left
the room, looking as if a bit ashamed of themselves and again not
knowing what to do with their hands. As soon as the door was
closed behind them a gendarme came up to it, pulled his sword out
of the scabbard, and, holding it up against his shoulder, stood
at the door. The judges got up and went away. The prisoners were
also led out. When the jury came into the debating-room the first
thing they did was to take out their cigarettes, as before, and
begin smoking. The sense of the unnaturalness and falseness of
their position, which all of them had experienced while sitting
in their places in the court, passed when they entered the
debating-room and started smoking, and they settled down with a
feeling of relief and at once began an animated conversation.
"'Tisn't the girl's fault. She's got mixed up in it," said the
kindly merchant. "We must recommend her to mercy."
"That's just what we are going to consider," said the foreman.
"We must not give way to our personal impressions."
"The president's summing up was good," remarked the colonel.
"Good? Why, it nearly sent me to sleep!"
"The chief point is that the servants could have known nothing
about the money if Maslova had not been in accord with them,"
said the clerk of Jewish extraction.
"Well, do you think that it was she who stole the money?" asked
one of the jury.
"I will never believe it," cried the kindly merchant; "it was all
that red-eyed hag's doing."
"They are a nice lot, all of them," said the colonel.
"But she says she never went into the room."
"Oh, believe her by all means."
"I should not believe that jade, not for the world."
"Whether you believe her or not does not settle the question,"
said the clerk.
"The girl had the key," said the colonel.
"What if she had?" retorted the merchant.
"And the ring?"
"But didn't she say all about it?" again cried the merchant. "The
fellow had a temper of his own, and had had a drop too much
besides, and gave the girl a licking; what could be simpler?
Well, then he's sorry--quite naturally. 'There, never mind,' says
he; 'take this.' Why, I heard them say he was six foot five high;
I should think he must have weighed about 20 stones."
"That's not the point," said Peter Gerasimovitch. "The question
is, whether she was the instigator and inciter in this affair, or
the servants?"
"It was not possible for the servants to do it alone; she had the
key."
This kind of random talk went on for a considerable time. At last
the foreman said: "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but had we not
better take our places at the table and discuss the matter?
Come, please." And he took the chair.
The questions were expressed in the following manner.
1. Is the peasant of the village Borki, Krapivinskia district,
Simeon Petrov Kartinkin, 33 years of age, guilty of having, in
agreement with other persons, given the merchant Smelkoff, on the
17th January, 188-, in the town of N-----, with intent to deprive
him of life, for the purpose of robbing him, poisoned brandy,
which caused Smelkoff's death, and of having stolen from him
about 2,500 roubles in money and a diamond ring?
2. Is the meschanka Euphemia Ivanovna Botchkova, 43 years of age,
guilty of the crimes described above?
3. Is the meschanka Katerina Michaelovna Maslova, 27 years of
age, guilty of the crimes described in the first question?
4. If the prisoner Euphemia Botchkova is not guilty according to
the first question, is she not guilty of having, on the 17th
January, in the town of N----, while in service at the hotel
Mauritania, stolen from a locked portmanteau, belonging to the
merchant Smelkoff, a lodger in that hotel, and which was in the
room occupied by him, 2,500 roubles, for which object she
unlocked the portmanteau with a key she brought and fitted to the
lock?
The foreman read the first question.
"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?" This question was quickly
answered. All agreed to say "Guilty," as if convinced that
Kartinkin had taken part both in the poisoning and the robbery.
An old artelshik, [member of an artel, an association of workmen,
in which the members share profits and liabilities] whose
answers were all in favour of acquittal, was the only exception.
The foreman thought he did not understand, and began to point out
to him that everything tended to prove Kartinkin's guilt. The old
man answered that he did understand, but still thought it better
to have pity on him. "We are not saints ourselves," and he kept
to his opinion.
The answer to the second question concerning Botchkova was, after
much dispute and many exclamations, answered by the words, "Not
guilty," there being no clear proofs of her having taken part in
the poisoning--a fact her advocate had strongly insisted on. The
merchant, anxious to acquit Maslova, insisted that Botchkova was
the chief instigator of it all. Many of the jury shared this
view, but the foreman, wishing to be in strict accord with the
law, declared they had no grounds to consider her as an
accomplice in the poisoning. After much disputing the foreman's
opinion triumphed.
To the fourth question concerning Botchkova the answer was
"Guilty." But on the artelshik's insistence she was recommended
to mercy.
The third question, concerning Maslova, raised a fierce dispute.
The foreman maintained she was guilty both of the poisoning and
the theft, to which the merchant would not agree. The colonel,
the clerk and the old artelshik sided with the merchant, the rest
seemed shaky, and the opinion of the foreman began to gain
ground, chiefly because all the jurymen were getting tired, and
preferred to take up the view that would bring them sooner to a
decision and thus liberate them.
From all that had passed, and from his former knowledge of
Maslova, Nekhludoff was certain that she was innocent of both the
theft and the poisoning. And he felt sure that all the others
would come to the same conclusion. When he saw that the
merchant's awkward defence (evidently based on his physical
admiration for her, which he did not even try to hide) and the
foreman's insistence, and especially everybody's weariness, were
all tending to her condemnation, he longed to state his
objections, yet dared not, lest his relations with Maslova should
be discovered. He felt he could not allow things to go on without
stating his objection; and, blushing and growing pale again, was
about to speak when Peter Gerasimovitch, irritated by the
authoritative manner of the foreman, began to raise his
objections and said the very things Nekhludoff was about to say.
"Allow me one moment," he said. "You seem to think that her
having the key proves she is guilty of the theft; but what could
be easier than for the servants to open the portmanteau with a
false key after she was gone?
"Of course, of course," said the merchant.
"She could not have taken the money, because in her position she
would hardly know what to do with it."
"That's just what I say," remarked the merchant.
"But it is very likely that her coming put the idea into the
servants' heads and that they grasped the opportunity and shoved
all the blame on her." Peter Gerasimovitch spoke so irritably
that the foreman became irritated too, and went on obstinately
defending the opposite views; but Peter Gerasimovitch spoke so
convincingly that the majority agreed with him, and decided that
Maslova was not guilty of stealing the money and that the ring
was given her.
But when the question of her having taken part in the poisoning
was raised, her zealous defender, the merchant, declared that she
must be acquitted, because she could have no reason for the
poisoning. The foreman, however, said that it was impossible to
acquit her, because she herself had pleaded guilty to having
given the powder.
"Yes, but thinking it was opium," said the merchant.
"Opium can also deprive one of life," said the colonel, who was
fond of wandering from the subject, and he began telling how his
brother-in-law's wife would have died of an overdose of opium if
there had not been a doctor near at hand to take the necessary
measures. The colonel told his story so impressively, with such
self-possession and dignity, that no one had the courage to
interrupt him. Only the clerk, infected by his example, decided
to break in with a story of his own: "There are some who get so
used to it that they can take 40 drops. I have a relative--," but
the colonel would not stand the interruption, and went on to
relate what effects the opium had on his brother-in-law's wife.
"But, gentlemen, do you know it is getting on towards five
o'clock?" said one of the jury.
"Well, gentlemen, what are we to say, then?" inquired the
foreman. "Shall we say she is guilty, but without intent to rob?
And without stealing any property? Will that do?" Peter
Gerasimovitch, pleased with his victory, agreed.
"But she must be recommended to mercy," said the merchant.
All agreed; only the old artelshik insisted that they should say
"Not guilty."
"It comes to the same thing," explained the foreman; "without
intent to rob, and without stealing any property. Therefore, 'Not
guilty,' that's evident."
"All right; that'll do. And we recommend her to mercy," said the
merchant, gaily.
They were all so tired, so confused by the discussions, that
nobody thought of saying that she was guilty of giving the powder
but without the intent of taking life. Nekhludoff was so excited
that he did not notice this omission, and so the answers were
written down in the form agreed upon and taken to the court.
Rabelais says that a lawyer who was trying a case quoted all
sorts of laws, read 20 pages of judicial senseless Latin, and
then proposed to the judges to throw dice, and if the numbers
proved odd the defendant would he right, if not, the plaintiff.
It was much the same in this case. The resolution was taken, not
because everybody agreed upon it, but because the president, who
had been summing up at such length, omitted to say what he always
said on such occasions, that the answer might be, "Yes, guilty,
but without the intent of taking life;" because the colonel had
related the story of his brother-in-law's wife at such great
length; because Nekhludoff was too excited to notice that the
proviso "without intent to take life" had been omitted, and
thought that the words "without intent" nullified the conviction;
because Peter Gerasimovitch had retired from the room while the
questions and answers were being read, and chiefly because, being
tired, and wishing to get away as soon as possible, all were
ready to agree with the decision which would bring matters to an
end soonest.
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 he 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 he 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.
"D'you know, sirs, we have made a shameful hash of it?" said
Peter Gerasimovitch, approaching Nekhludoff, to whom the foreman
was relating something. "Why, we've got her to Siberia."
"What are you saying?" exclaimed Nekhludoff. This time he did not
notice the teacher's familiarity.
"Why, we did not put in our answer 'Guilty, but without intent of
causing death.' The secretary just told me the public prosecutor
is for condemning her to 15 years' penal servitude."
"Well, but it was decided so," said the foreman.
Peter Gerasimovitch began to dispute this, saying that since she
did not take the money it followed naturally that she could not
have had any intention of committing murder.
"But I read the answer before going out," said the foreman,
defending himself, "and nobody objected."
"I had just then gone out of the room," said Peter Gerasimovitch,
turning to Nekhludoff, "and your thoughts must have been
wool-gathering to let the thing pass."
"I never imagined this," Nekhludoff replied.
"Oh, you didn't?"
"Oh, well, we can get it put right," said Nekhludoff.
"Oh, dear no; it's finished."
Nekhludoff looked at the prisoners. They whose fate was being
decided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of the
soldiers. Maslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred in
Nekhludoff's soul. Up to now, expecting her acquittal and
thinking she would remain in the town, he was uncertain how to
act towards her. Any kind of relations with her would be so very
difficult. But Siberia and penal servitude at once cut off every
possibility of any kind of relations with her. The wounded bird
would stop struggling in the game-bag, and no longer remind him
of its existence.
