Now an advocate sprang up, a thin man with a small pointed beard and long eyes. His nose was long and thin, and the nape of his neck wide so that his face looked like a hatchet.
"Say, what compelled you to adopt this, this profession!" he said loudly and clearly.
"Nothing compelled me," answered Vyera, her eyes fixed on the judge's.
"H'm, that's not altogether correct; you see, I know, you told me."
"You know nothing!" answered Vyera.
She turned her head towards him, and looking at him sternly, went on angrily:
"I told you nothing, you yourself have made it all up!"
Her eyes glanced quickly over the audience, then she turned back to the judges and asked with a movement of her head towards her defender:
"Need I answer him?"
A new hissing whisper crawled through the room, but louder and plainer. Ilya shivered with the tension and looked at Gratschev. He expected something from him, awaited it with confidence. But Pavel, looking out from behind the shoulders of the people in front of him, sat silent and motionless. Gromov smiled and said, his words were smooth and oily; then Vyera began not loudly but quite firmly: