retary was reading the decision in some case, but in such a mournful
and monotonous voice that the condemned man himself would have fallen
asleep while listening to it. The judge, no doubt, would have been the
first to do so had he not entered into an engrossing conversation while
it was going on.

"I expressly tried to find out," said the judge, sipping his already
cold tea from the cup, "how they manage to sing so well. I had a
splendid thrush two years ago. Well, all of a sudden he was completely
done for, and began to sing, God knows what! He got worse and worse and
worse and worse as time went on; he began to rattle and get hoarse--just
good for nothing! And this is how it happened: a little lump, not so big
as a pea, had come under his throat. It was only necessary to prick that
little swelling with a needle--Zachar Prokofievitch taught me that; and,
if you like, I'll just tell you how it was. I went to him--"

"Shall I read another, Demyan Demyanovitch?" broke in the secretary, who
had not been reading for several minutes.

"Have you finished already? Only think how quickly! And I did not hear a
word of it! Where is it? Give it me and I'll sign it. What else have you
there?"

"The case of Cossack Bokitok for stealing a cow."

"Very good; read it!--Yes, so I went to him--I can even tell you in
detail how he entertained me. There was vodka, and dried sturgeon,
excellent! Yes, not our sturgeon," there the judge smacked his tongue
and smiled, upon which his nose took a sniff at its usual snuff-box,
"such as our Mirgorod shops sell us. I ate no herrings, for, as you
know, they give me heart-burn; but I tasted the caviare--very fine
caviare, too! There's no doubt it, excellent! Then I drank some
peach-brandy, real gentian. There was saffron-brandy also; but, as you
know, I never take that. You see, it was all very good. In the first
place, to whet your appetite, as they say, and then to satisfy it--Ah!
speak of an angel," exclaimed the judge, all at once, catching sight of
Ivan Ivanovitch as he entered.

"God be with us! I wish you a good-morning," said Ivan Ivanovitch,
bowing all round with his usual politeness. How well he understood
the art of fascinating everybody in his manner! I never beheld such
refinement. He knew his own worth quite well, and therefore looked for
universal respect as his due. The judge himself handed Ivan Ivanovitch
a chair; and his nose inhaled all the snuff resting on his upper lip,
w