"Your name?" asked the presiding justice of the third prisoner. "You must rise," he added, gently and courteously, seeing Maslova still in her seat.
With quick movement Maslova rose with an air of submissiveness, and throwing back her shoulders, looked into the face of the presiding justice with her smiling, somewhat squinting black eyes.
"What are you called?"
"They used to call me Lubka," she answered, rapidly.
Meanwhile Nekhludoff put on his pince-nez and examined the prisoners while they were questioned.
"It is impossible," he thought, looking intently at the prisoner. "But her name is Lubka," he thought, as he heard her answer.
The presiding justice was about to continue his interrogation when the member with the eye-glasses, angrily whispering something, stopped him. The presiding justice nodded his assent and turned to the prisoner.
"You say 'Lubka,' but a different name is entered here."
The prisoner was silent.
"I ask you what is your real name?"