Samoylov was just as curly-haired
as before; and Ivan Gusev smiled just as broadly.
"Ah, Fedka, Fedka!" whispered Sizov, drooping his head.
The mother felt she could breathe more freely. She heard the
indistinct questions of the old man, which he put without looking
at the prisoners; and his head rested motionless on the collar of
his uniform. She heard the calm, brief answers of her son. It
seemed to her that the oldest judge and his associates could be
neither evil nor cruel people. Looking carefully at their faces
she tried to guess something, softly listening to the growth of a
new hope in her breast.
The porcelain-faced man read a paper indifferently; his even voice
filled the hall with weariness, and the people, enfolded by it, sat
motionless as if benumbed. Four lawyers softly but animatedly
conversed with the prisoners. They all moved powerfully, briskly,
and called to mind large blackbirds.
On one side of the old man a judge with small, bleared eyes filled
the armchair with his fat, bloated body. On the other side sat a
stooping man with reddish mustache on his pale face. His head was
wearily thrown on the back of the chair, his eyes, half-closed, he
seemed to be reflecting over something.
Pages:
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550