“Well, what is it, doctor? Will you be through soon?” some one asked impatiently.
“It’s nothing. He has simply fainted. Rub his ears with snow! He is coming to himself already! You may read the sentence!”
The light of the dark lantern flashed upon the paper and on the white, gloveless hands holding it. Both the paper and the hands quivered slightly, and the voice also quivered:
“Gentlemen, perhaps it is not necessary to read the sentence to you. You know it already. What do you say?”
“Don’t read it,” Werner answered for them all, and the little lantern was soon extinguished.
The services of the priest were also declined by them all. Tsiganok said:
“Stop your fooling, father—you will forgive me, but they will hang me. Go to—where you came from.”
And the dark, broad silhouette of the priest moved back silently and quickly and disappeared. Day was breaking: the snow turned whiter, the figures of the people became more distinct, and the forest—thinner, more melancholy.
“Gentlemen, you must go in pairs. Take your places in pairs as you wish, but I ask you to hurry up.”
Werner pointed to Yanson, who was now standing, supported by two gendarmes.