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 Máslova 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 be 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 Máslova convicted, and attributing the success entirely to his own eloquence, looked up the necessary information, rose and said: “With Simeon Kartínkin I should deal according to Statute 1452 paragraph 93. Euphémia Bótchkova according to Statute … , etc. Katerína Máslova according to Statute … , etc.”
All three punishments were the heaviest that could be 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 Gerásimovitch, approaching Nekhlúdoff, to whom the foreman was relating something. “Why, we’ve got her to Siberia.”
“What are you saying?” exclaimed Nekhlúdoff. 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 fifteen years’ penal servitude.”
“Well, but it was decided so,” said the foreman.
Peter Gerásimovitch 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 Gerásimovitch, turning to Nekhlúdoff, “and your thoughts must have been woolgathering to let the thing pass.”
“I never imagined this,” Nekhlúdoff replied.
“Oh, you didn’t?”
“Oh, well, we can get it put right,” said Nekhlúdoff.
“Oh, dear no; it’s finished.”
Nekhlúdoff looked at the prisoners. They whose fate was being decided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of the soldiers. Máslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred in Nekhlúdoff’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.
XXIV
Peter Gerásimovitch’s assumption was correct. The president came back from the debating room with a paper, and read as follows:—“April 28th, 188-. By His Imperial Majesty’s ukase No. ⸻ The Criminal Court, on the strength of the decision of the jury, in accordance with Section 3 of Statute 771, Section 3 of Statutes 770 and 777, decrees that the peasant, Simeon Kartínkin, thirty-three years of age, and the meschánka Katerína Máslova, twenty-seven years of age, are to be deprived of all property rights and to be sent to penal servitude in Siberia, Kartínkin for eight, Máslova for four years, with the consequences stated in Statute 25 of the code. The meschánka Bótchkova, forty-three years of age, to be deprived of all special personal and acquired rights, and to be imprisoned for three years with consequences in accord with Statute 48 of the code. The costs of the case to be borne equally by the prisoners; and, in the case of their being without sufficient property, the costs to be transferred to the Treasury. Articles of material evidence to be sold, the ring to be returned, the phials destroyed.” Bótchkova was condemned to prison, Simeon Kartínkin and Katerína Máslova to the loss of all special rights and privileges and to penal servitude in Siberia, he for eight and she for four years.
Kartínkin stood holding his arms close to his sides and moving his lips. Bótchkova seemed perfectly calm. Máslova, when she heard the sentence,
