guilt." But when with the other jurymen he entered the court-room and
witnessed the same procedure, the same "Hear ye! Hear ye!" the three
judges in high collars on the elevation, the silence, the seating of
the jury on high-backed chairs, the gendarmes, the priest--he felt
that, though it was necessary to do it, he would not have been able
even yesterday to break this solemnity.

They went through the same preliminaries, except the swearing in of
the jury and the justiciary's speech to them.

A case of burglary was before the court. The prisoner, who was guarded
by two gendarmes with unsheathed swords, was a twenty-year-old boy
with a bloodless face and in a gray coat. He sat alone on the
prisoners' bench and scanned from under his eyebrows all those that
entered the court-room. This boy and another were charged with
breaking the lock of a shed and stealing therefrom mats of the value
of three rubles and sixty-seven kopecks. It appeared from the
indictment that a policeman caught the boy when he was walking with
the other, who carried the mats on his shoulder. Both of them
immediately confessed, and they were put in jail. The comrade of this
boy, a locksmith, died in jail, and he was tried alone. The old mats
lay on the table reserved for exhibits.

The case was conducted in the same order as yesterday, with all the
proofs, witnesses, experts, oath-taking, examinations and
cross-examinations. The policeman, when questioned by the justiciary,
complainant and the defense, made listless answers--"Yes, sir," "Can't
tell," and again "Yes, sir"--but notwithstanding this, it was apparent
that he pitied the boy and testified involuntarily against him.