There were nineteen of them, all juniors, young,
progressive and conscientious men. The sitting was without formality,
and white suits of duck, flannel and alpaca were in the majority. They
sat anywhere, at little marble tables, and the chairman stood in front
of an empty counter where chocolates were sold in the winter.
The barristers were quite exhausted by the heat which poured in
through the windows, with the dazzling sunlight and the noise of the
streets. The proceedings went lazily and with a certain irritation.
A tall young man with a fair moustache and thin hair was in the chair.
He was dreaming voluptuously how he would be off in an instant on his
new-bought bicycle to the bungalow. He would undress quickly, and
without waiting to cool, still bathed in sweat, would fling himself
into the clear, cold, sweet-smelling sea. His whole body was enervated
and tense, thrilled by the thought. Impatiently moving the papers
before him, he spoke in a drowsy voice.
"So, Joseph Moritzovich will conduct the case of Rubinchik... Perhaps
there is still a statement to be made on the order of the day?"
His youngest colleague, a short, stout Karaite, very black and lively,
said in a whisper so that every one could hear: "On the order of the
day, the best thing would be iced _kvas_.
Pages:
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429