Maslova was silent.

"What was your occupation?" repeated the justiciary.

"You know!" said Maslova. She smiled and quickly glanced around, then
looked squarely at the justiciary.

There was something so unusual in the expression of her
face--something so terrible and piteous in the meaning of her words,
in that smile, that quick glance which she cast over the
court-room--that the justiciary hung his head, and for a moment there
was perfect silence.

A burst of laughter from some spectator interrupted the silence. Some
one hissed. The justiciary raised his head and continued the
interrogation.

"Were you ever arrested?"

"No." Maslova said in an undertone, sighing.

"Have you received a copy of the indictment?"

"Yes."

"Sit down."

The prisoner raised her skirt with the customary movement of a
fashionable lady, arranging her train, and sat down, folding her hands
in the sleeves of her coat, and still looking at the justiciary.