MOTH;-'* 339

hear nothing but the hurried scratching of a pen and
the beating of her own heart.

The senior judge, too, seemed to bo listening and wait-
ing for what would follow* His assistants stirred* At last
be said:

"Hm-nu Andrei Nakhodka! Do you plead guilty?*'

Andrei got up slowly, squared his shoulders, tugged at
his moustaches and looked at the old man from under
lowered brows.

"How can I plead guilty?" he replied in his slow melo-
dious voice, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I haven't
killed anyone or stolen anything. I'm simply against a
manner of life that leads people to rob and kill each
other."

"Be more brief in your answers," said the old man with
an effort.

A jmurniur came from the back benches. People began
to whisper and move about, as if treeing themselves of
the web of words the porcelain fellow had woven about
them.

"Hear what they're saying?** whispered Sizov.

"Answer, Feodor Mazin----"

"No, I won't," said Feodor, jumping to his feet. His
face was flushed, his eyes were bright, and for some rea-
son he held his hands behind his back.

Sizov gasped and the mother's eyes widened in amaze-
ment.

"I refused to have a lawyer to defend me and I refuse
to say anything. I consider this trial unlawful! Who are
you? Have the people given you the right to judge us?
No, they have not! And I refuse to recognise your au-
thority!"

He sat down and hid his flushed face behind Andrei's
shoulder,

The fat judge bent to the senior judge and whispered
something in his ear. The pale-faced judge opened his
eyes, cast a sidelong glance at the prisoners, and jotted
something in pencil on the paper lying before him* The