The enemy of society was sitting down; but as it evidently troubled him to sit while he was being spoken of, he stood up slowly with bent head. His arms hung feebly by his sides, and the long gray figure bowed as though before the vengeance of justice. Lunev let his head fall also. His heart was sick, almost to death; helpless thoughts circled slowly and heavily in his head--he could find no words for them, and they fought him and strangled him. Petrusha's red, uneasy face drifted through his thoughts, as the moon through clouds. When Gromov announced the adjournment of the sitting Ilya went out into the corridor with the little man who took a damaged cigarette from his coat pocket, pressed it into shape and began: "The silly fellow stands there and swears he has not kindled the fire. Oaths are no good here. It's a serious business--some shopkeeper's been injured--you have done it or another--that doesn't matter. What does matter is to have it punished--you walk into the net. Very well, you shall be punished." "Do you think he's guilty, that fellow?" asked Ilya thoughtfully. "Of course he's guilty, because he's stupid; clever people don't get condemned," said the little man calmly and quickly, and smoked his cigarette vigorously. He had little black eyes like a mouse, and his teeth were also small-pointed and mouse-like. "In that jury," began Ilya slowly and with emphasis, "there are men." "Not men, tradesmen," the dark-headed man improved the phrase. Ilya looked at him and repeated: "Tradesmen. I know some of them." "Aha!" "A fine sort--not to put it too finely." "Thieves--eh?" his companion helped him out. He spoke loudly, but in an ordinary way, then threw away his cigarette end, pinched up his lips in a loud whistle and looked at Ilya with eyes bold almost to insolence; all these movements followed one another in eager restlessness. "Of course; anyway, justice so-called is mostly a pretty good farce," he said shrugging. "The fat people improve the criminal tendencies of the hungry people. I often come to the courts, but I never saw a hungry man sit in judgment on the well fed--if the well fed do it among themselves--it happens generally from extra greed and means--don't take everything, leave me some!" "It also means--the well fed can't understand the hungry," said Ilya. "Oh, nonsense!" answered his companion. "They understand all right--that's what makes them so severe." "Well--well fed and honourable--that might pass!" Ilya went on half aloud. "But well fed scoundrels, how can they judge other men?" "The scoundrels are the severest judges," the black-haired man announced quietly. "Now, sir, we'll hear a case of robbery." "It's some one I know," said Lunev softly. "Ah!" cried the little man and shot a glance at him. "Let us have a look at your acquaintance!"