The expectation of
the terrible had died away, leaving behind it only a tremor at the
recollection of the judges, and somewhere in a corner a dark
impersonal thought regarding them.
"Young people ought to be tried by young judges, and not by old
ones," she said to her son.
"It would be better to arrange life so that it should not force
people to crime," answered Pavel.
The mother, seeing the Little Russian converse with everybody and
realizing that he needed affection more than Pavel, spoke to him.
Andrey answered her gratefully, smiling, joking kindly, as always
a bit droll, supple, sinewy. Around her the talk went on, crossing
and intertwining. She heard everything, understood everybody, and
secretly marveled at the vastness of her own heart, which took in
everything with an even joy, and gave back a clear reflection of
it, like a bright image on a deep, placid lake.
Finally the prisoners were led away. The mother walked out of the
court, and was surprised to see that night already hung over the
city, with the lanterns alight in the streets, and the stars shining
in the sky. Groups composed mainly of young men were crowding near
the courthouse.
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