Resurrection

The corridors of the Court were already full of activity. The

attendants hurried, out of breath, dragging their feet along the

ground without lifting them, backwards and forwards, with all

sorts of messages and papers. Ushers, advocates, and law officers

passed hither and thither. Plaintiffs, and those of the accused

who were not guarded, wandered sadly along the walls or sat

waiting.

"Where is the Law Court?" Nekhludoff asked of an attendant.

"Which? There is the Civil Court and the Criminal Court."

"I am on the jury."

"The Criminal Court you should have said. Here to the right, then

to the left--the second door."

Nekhludoff followed the direction.

Meanwhile some of the Criminal Court jurymen who were late had

hurriedly passed into a separate room. At the door mentioned two

men stood waiting.

One, a tall, fat merchant, a kind-hearted fellow, had evidently

partaken of some refreshments and a glass of something, and was

in most pleasant spirits. The other was a shopman of Jewish

extraction. They were talking about the price of wool when

Nekhludoff came up and asked them if this was the jurymen's room.

"Yes, my dear sir, this is it. One of us? On the jury, are you?"

asked the merchant, with a merry wink.

"Ah, well, we shall have a go at the work together," he

continued, after Nekhludoff had answered in the affirmative. "My

name is Baklasheff, merchant of the Second Guild," he said,

putting out his broad, soft, flexible hand.

"With whom have I the honour?"

Nekhludoff gave his name and passed into the jurymen's room.

Inside the room were about ten persons of all sorts. They had

come but a short while ago, and some were sitting, others walking

up and down, looking at each other, and making each other's

acquaintance. There was a retired colonel in uniform; some were

in frock coats, others in morning coats, and only one wore a

peasant's dress.

Their faces all had a certain look of satisfaction at the

prospect of fulfilling a public duty, although many of them had

had to leave their businesses, and most were complaining of it.

The jurymen talked among themselves about the weather, the early

spring, and the business before them, some having been

introduced, others just guessing who was who. Those who were not

acquainted with Nekhludoff made haste to get introduced,

evidently looking upon this as an honour, and he taking it as his

due, as he always did when among strangers. Had he been asked why

he considered himself above the majority of people, he could not

have given an answer; the life he had been living of late was not

particularly meritorious. The fact of his speaking English,

French, and German with a good accent, and of his wearing the

best linen, clothes, ties, and studs, bought from the most

expensive dealers in these goods, he quite knew would not serve

as a reason for claiming superiority. At the same time he did

claim superiority, and accepted the respect paid him as his due,

and was hurt if he did not get it. In the jurymen's room his

feelings were hurt by disrespectful treatment. Among the jury

there happened to be a man whom he knew, a former teacher of his

sister's children, Peter Gerasimovitch. Nekhludoff never knew his

surname, and even bragged a bit about this. This man was now a

master at a public school. Nekhludoff could not stand his

familiarity, his self-satisfied laughter, his vulgarity, in

short.