Part 1 Chapter 6
THE JUDGES.
The president, who had to take the chair, had arrived early. The president was a tall, stout man, with long grey whiskers. Though married, he led a very loose life, and his wife did the same, so they did not stand in each other's way. This morning he had received a note from a Swiss girl, who had formerly been a governess in his house, and who was now on her way from South Russia to St. Petersburg. She wrote that she would wait for him between five and six p.m. in the Hotel Italia. This made him wish to begin and get through the sitting as soon as possible, so as to have time to call before six p.m. on the little red-haired Clara Vasilievna, with whom he had begun a romance in the country last summer. He went into a private room, latched the door, took a pair of dumb-bells out of a cupboard, moved his arms 20 times upwards, downwards, forwards, and sideways, then holding the dumb-bells above his head, lightly bent his knees three times.
"Nothing keeps one going like a cold bath and exercise," he said, feeling the biceps of his right arm with his left hand, on the third finger of which he wore a gold ring. He had still to do the moulinee movement (for he always went through those two exercises before a long sitting), when there was a pull at the door. The president quickly put away the dumb-bells and opened the door, saying, "I beg your pardon."
One of the members, a high-shouldered, discontented-looking man, with gold spectacles, came into the room. "Matthew Nikitich has again not come," he said, in a dissatisfied tone.
"Not yet?" said the president, putting on his uniform. "He is always late."
"It is extraordinary. He ought to be ashamed of himself," said the member, angrily, and taking out a cigarette.
This member, a very precise man, had had an unpleasant encounter with his wife in the morning, because she had spent her allowance before the end of the month, and had asked him to give her some money in advance, but he would not give way to her, and they had a quarrel. The wife told him that if he were going to behave so, he need not expect any dinner; there would be no dinner for him at home. At this point he left, fearing that she might carry out her threat, for anything might be expected from her. "This comes of living a good, moral life," he thought, looking at the beaming, healthy, cheerful, and kindly president, who, with elbows far apart, was smoothing his thick grey whiskers with his fine white hands over the embroidered collar of his uniform. "He is always contented and merry while I am suffering."
The secretary came in and brought some document.
"Thanks, very much," said the president, lighting a cigarette. "Which case shall we take first, then?"
"The poisoning case, I should say," answered the secretary, with indifference.
"All right; the poisoning case let it be," said the president, thinking that he could get this case over by four o'clock, and then go away. "And Matthew Nikitich; has he come?"
"Not yet."
"And Breve?"
"He is here," replied the secretary.
"Then if you see him, please tell him that we begin with the poisoning case." Breve was the public prosecutor, who was to read the indictment in this case.
In the corridor the secretary met Breve, who, with up lifted shoulders, a portfolio under one arm, the other swinging with the palm turned to the front, was hurrying along the corridor, clattering with his heels.
"Michael Petrovitch wants to know if you are ready?" the secretary asked.
"Of course; I am always ready," said the public prosecutor. "What are we taking first?"
"The poisoning case."
"That's quite right," said the public prosecutor, but did not think it at all right. He had spent the night in a hotel playing cards with a friend who was giving a farewell party. Up to five in the morning they played and drank, so he had no time to look at this poisoning case, and meant to run it through now. The secretary, happening to know this, advised the president to begin with the poisoning case. The secretary was a Liberal, even a Radical, in opinion.
Breve was a Conservative; the secretary disliked him, and envied him his position.
"Well, and how about the Skoptzy?" asked the secretary.
"I have already said that I cannot do it without witnesses, and so I shall say to the Court."
"Dear me, what does it matter?"
"I cannot do it," said Breve; and, waving his arm, he ran into his private room.
He was putting off the case of the Skoptzy on account of the absence of a very unimportant witness, his real reason being that if they were tried by an educated jury they might possibly be acquitted.
By an agreement with the president this case was to be tried in the coming session at a provincial town, where there would be more peasants, and, therefore, more chances of conviction.
The movement in the corridor increased. The people crowded most at the doors of the Civil Court, in which the case that the dignified man talked about was being heard.
An interval in the proceeding occurred, and the old woman came out of the court, whose property that genius of an advocate had found means of getting for his client, a person versed in law who had no right to it whatever. The judges knew all about the case, and the advocate and his client knew it better still, but the move they had invented was such that it was impossible not to take the old woman's property and not to hand it over to the person versed in law.
The old woman was stout, well dressed, and had enormous flowers on her bonnet; she stopped as she came out of the door, and spreading out her short fat arms and turning to her advocate, she kept repeating. "What does it all mean? just fancy!"
The advocate was looking at the flowers in her bonnet, and evidently not listening to her, but considering some question or other.
Next to the old woman, out of the door of the Civil Court, his broad, starched shirt front glistening from under his low-cut waistcoat, with a self-satisfied look on his face, came the celebrated advocate who had managed to arrange matters so that the old woman lost all she had, and the person versed in the law received more than 100,000 roubles. The advocate passed close to the old woman, and, feeling all eyes directed towards him, his whole bearing seemed to say: "No expressions of deference are required."
庭长一早就来到法庭。他体格魁伟，留着一大把花白的络腮一胡一子。他是个有妻室的人，可是生活十分放一荡，他的妻子也是这样。他们互不干涉。今天早晨他收到瑞士籍家庭女教师——去年夏天她住在他们家里，最近从南方来到彼得堡——来信，说她下午三时至六时在城里的“意大利旅馆”等他。因此他希望今天早点开庭，早点结束，好赶在六点钟以前去看望那个红头发的克拉拉。去年夏天在别墅里他跟她可有过一段风一流韵事啊。
他走进办公室，扣上房门，从文件柜的最下层拿出一副哑铃，向上，向前，向两边和向下各举了二十下，然后又把哑铃举过头顶，身一子毫不费力地蹲下来三次。
“要锻炼身一体，再没有比洗淋浴和做体一操一更好的办法了，”他边想边用无名指上戴着金戒指的左手摸一摸右臂上隆一起的一大块肌肉。他还要练一套击剑动作（他在长时间审理案子以前总要做这两种运动），这时房门动了一下。有人想推门进来。
庭长慌忙把哑铃放回原处，开了门。
“对不起，”他说。
一个身材不高的法官，戴一副金丝边眼镜，耸一起肩膀，脸色一陰一沉，走了进来。
“玛特维又没有来，”那个法官不高兴地说。
“还没有来，”庭长一边穿制一服，一边回答。“他总是迟到。”
“真弄不懂，他怎么不害臊，”法官说，怒气冲冲地坐下来，掏出一支香烟。
这个法官是个古板君子，今天早晨同妻子吵过嘴，因为妻子不到时候就把这个月的生活费用光了。妻子要求他预支给她一些钱，他说决不通融。结果就闹了起来。妻子说，既然这样，那就不开伙，他别想在家里吃到饭。他听了这话转身就走，唯恐妻子真的照她威胁的那样办，因为她这人是什么事都做得出来的。“嘿，规规矩矩过日子就落得如此下场，”他心里想，眼睛瞧着那容光焕发、和蔼可亲的庭长，庭长正宽宽地叉一开两臂，用细一嫩的白手理着绣花领子两边又长又密的花白络腮一胡一子，“他总是扬扬得意，可我却在活受罪。”
书记官走进来，拿来一份卷宗。
“多谢，”庭长说着，点上一支烟。“先审哪个案？”
“我看就审毒死人命案吧，”书记官若无其事地说。
“好，毒死人命案就毒死人命案吧，”庭长说。他估计这个案四时以前可以结束，然后他就可以走，“玛特维还没有来吗？”
“还没有来。”
“那么勃列威来了吗？”
“他来了，”书记官回答。
“您要是看见他，就告诉他，我们先审毒死人命案。”
勃列威是在这个案子中负责提出公诉的副检察官。
书记官来到走廊里，遇见勃列威。勃列威耸一起肩膀，敞开制一服，腋下夹一个公文包，沿着走廊象跑步一般匆匆走来，鞋后跟踩得咯咯发响，那只空手拚命前后摆一动。
“米哈伊尔·彼得罗维奇要我问一下，您准备好了没有，”
书记官说。
“当然，我随时都可以出庭，”副检察官说。“先审哪个案？”
“毒死人命案。”
“太好了，”副检察官嘴里这样说，其实他一点也不觉得好，因为他通宵没有睡觉。他们给一个同事饯行，喝了许多酒，打牌一直打到半夜两点钟，又到正好是玛丝洛娃六个月前待过的那家一妓一院去玩女人，因此他没有来得及阅读毒死人命案的案卷，此刻想草草翻阅一遍。书记官明明知道他没有看过这案的案卷，却有意刁难，要庭长先审这个案。就思想来说，书记官是个自一由派，甚至是个激进派。勃列威却思想保守，而且也象一切在俄国做官的德国人那样，特别笃信东正教。书记官不喜欢他，但又很羡慕他这个位置。
“那么，Yan割派①教徒一案怎么样了？”书记官问。
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①基督教的一个教派，认为生育是罪恶，因而Yan割自己。
“我说过我不能审理这个案子，”副检察官说，“因为缺乏证人，我也将这样向法庭声明。”
“那有什么关系……”
“我不能审理，”副检察官说完，又这样摆一动手臂，跑到自己的办公室去了。
他借口一个证人没有传到而推迟审理Yan割派教徒的案子，其实这个证人对本案无足轻重，他之所以推迟审理只是担心由受过教育的陪审员组成的法庭来审理，被告很可能被宣告无罪释放。但只要同庭长商量妥当，这个案子就可以转到县法庭去审理，那里陪审员中农民较多，判罪的机会也就大得多。
走廊里熙熙攘攘，越来越热闹。人群多半聚集在民事法庭附近，那里正在审理那个喜欢打听案情的相貌堂堂的先生向陪审员们讲述的案子。在审讯休息时，民事法庭里走出一位老太太，就是她被那个天才律师硬敲出一大笔钱给一个生意人，而那个生意人本来是根本无权得到这笔钱的。这一点法官们都很清楚，原告和他的律师当然更清楚；可是律师想出来的办法太狠毒了，一逼一得那老太太非拿出这笔钱来不可。老太太身一体肥胖，衣着讲究，帽子上插着几朵很大的鲜花。她从门里出来，摊开两条又短又粗的胳膊，嘴里不断地对她的律师说：“这究竟是怎么一回事？请您帮个忙！究竟是怎么一回事？”律师望着她帽子上的鲜花，自己想着心事，根本没有听她。
那位名律师跟在老太太后面，敏捷地从民事法庭走出来。他敞开背心，露出浆得笔挺的雪白硬胸，脸上现出得意扬扬的神色，因为他使头上戴花的老太太倾家荡产，而那个付给他一万卢布的生意人却得到了十万以上。大家的目光都集中在律师身上，他也察觉到这一点。他那副神气仿佛在说：“我没什么值得大家崇拜的。”他迅速地从人群旁边走过去了。
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