They were taking the job with desperate seriousness. Jukoff alone seemed undisturbed by the surroundings. He was a lean, clean-cut, intelligent-looking man. His eyes were deep set beneath the roof of a high forehead. He wore a neat sack-suit and a white collar. The room was packed with a crowd of Countess Panina’s friends. They cast hostile glances in the direction of the tribunal, and the atmosphere was charged with the tensity of their feeling. A red-headed camera-man with a journalistic sense had established himself at a point of vantage. On a bench against the wall sat the prisoner, a soldier, looking very uncomfortable in a new and shiny uniform of padded khaki and high hat of sheepskin, standing on each side of her. The Countess might have been a social worker in any American city. She had a pleasant, round, well-bred face, and a pair of kindly eyes. She wore a severe black tailored suit and a small close-fitting turban. Jukoff opened the proceedings with a reference to the part played by military revolutionary courts during the French Revolution, and declared that in Russia also the tribunals would “defend with severity the rights and traditions of the revolutionary peoples.” The charge was briefly stated. The prisoner pleaded “not guilty.” The documentary evidence, a letter of Countess Panina’s, was introduced. There were no lawyers. Prosecutors and defenders both came from the crowd. An intellectual, J. Gurevitch, made a statement denying the guilt of the prisoner. When he finished, a young workman, Ivanoff, took his place before the judges. He was from the artillery factory. A straw-colored Russian shirt, buttoned on one side, was as much a part of him as his fair hair and blue eyes. He spoke simply and earnestly: “If I have seen some light in my life, it is only because she came into it,” he said. “She has given me the possibility of thinking. It was in her Narodny Dom I learned to read. She is not a countess here. This is no time for distinctions. She is only a citizen who has given so much to her people. I ask you to give her freedom, because I would not want the world to hear that the Russian people are without gratitude.” As he walked to his chair, a professional man, one of Countess Panina’s friends, stepped forward and shook his hand, and the crowd arose to pay him tribute.