"But we respect and esteem another civilization, the creators of which you have persecuted, you have allowed to rot in dungeons, you have driven mad——"
"I forbid you to speak! Hm— Fedor Mazin!"
Little Mazin popped up like a cork from a champagne bottle, and said in a staccato voice:
"I—I swear!—I know you have convicted me——"
He lost breath and paled; his eyes seemed to devour his entire face. He stretched out his hand and shouted:
"I—upon my honest word! Wherever you send me—I'll escape—I'll return—I'll work always—all my life! Upon my honest word!"
Sizov quacked aloud. The entire public, overcome by the mounting wave of excitement, hummed strangely and dully. One woman cried, some one choked and coughed. The gendarmes regarded the prisoners with dull surprise, the public with a sinister look. The judges shook, the old man shouted in a thin voice:
"Ivan Gusev!"
"I don't want to speak."
"Vasily Gusev!"