“Perhaps it was not cognac?”
“No, sir, it was real fine champagne.”
“So you even know the names of wines!” the Assistant Prosecutor said, laughing.
“How should I not know them? I've served these masters for more than thirty years, thank God! I've had time to learn.…”
For some reason the Assistant Prosecutor required that Kuz'ma should be confronted with Urbenin.… Kuz'ma looked for a long time at Urbenin, shook his head and said:
“No, I can't remember … perhaps it was Pëtr Egorych, perhaps it was not.… Who can say?”
Polugradov shrugged his shoulders and drove away, leaving me to choose which was the right one of the two murderers.
The investigations were protracted.… Urbenin and Kuz'ma were imprisoned in the guard-house of the village in which I lived. Poor Pëtr Egorych lost courage very much; he grew thin and grey and fell into a religious mood; two or three times he sent to beg me to let him see the laws about punishments; it was evident he was interested in the extent of the punishment that awaited him.
“What will become of my children?” he asked me at one of the examinations. “If I were alone your mistake would not grieve me very much; but I must live … live for the children! They will perish without me. Besides, I … I am not able to part from them! What are you doing with me?”
When the guards said “thou” to him, and when he had to go a couple of times, from my village to the town and back on foot under escort, in the sight of all the people who knew him, he became despondent and nervous.