Sixteen years in Siberia

BLIC PROSECUTOR AS COMPATRIOT-A HARD-

y; a place never spoken of in Russia without a shudder. I approached it with dark forebodings, but these gave place to interest. I knew well that a

e of gendarmes examined me carefully, and then gave me, instead of my own clothes, prison under-linen, a striped cotton gown, such as is wo

ne that men lived here year after year; it felt like a house of the dead. Only the chimes of the clock brok

to the wall, and the customary evil-smelling tub. Even at three o'clock in the afternoon darkness reigned, although at this season Petersburg enjoys its "bright nights," when it never gets really dark. Reading was not to be thought of. Above everything I was sensible of the extreme cold, partly due to the

e State Police. The worst of this was that it meant the loss of my spectacles, and therefore I could not read, another privilege to which I had a right, as an unconvicted prisoner. This made the days, and the nights too, seem interminable. I did everything I could think of to occupy myself. I tried arithmetical problems, of course in my head, for writing materials were not allowed; I related my own history as an exercise of memory; and at last I hit on the plan of "publishing" a newspaper. When I had got thro

dressing and undressing, my own clothes being brought to me for these occasions. My walks took place in a yard enclosed with high walls, where no one was to be seen but gendarmes and sentri

ptible at a slight distance from the wall. When I was in prison before I had learned to use this me

empts to introduce myself. This knocking was strictly forbidden, and they hesitated to admit an unknown person to their company, fearing to be entrapped, and deprived of further intercourse. I was obliged to content myself with making out what these two said to each other in their short conversation

coming from abroad, I had been passed on from hand to hand with my official form of consignment, no one caring to learn who I was. The gendarmes appeared to know that I had taken the name of Bulìgin, being in reality Deutsch; but they h

essed like functionaries of the law. I was given a chair, and one of them informed me he was the examining magistrate "in specially grave cases" at the Petersburg

person concerned, and not attempting to excuse myself in the least. I knew I could injure no one now by telling the whole affair, for all who were in any way connected with it had been sentenced five years back; and as to myself, it could make no differen

ar. It will thus be seen that this was the real owner of the position which Bogdanòvitch had falsely claimed when pretending to identify me at Freiburg. Although Kotliarèvsky was in very bad odour with the revolutionists, and had been shot at by Ossìnsky in 1878, I was in a way glad to meet him in this gloomy place, for, at any rate, his face was a familiar one. And he behaved in a very friendly way to me. We were soon deep in conversation, recounting o

oung fellow you were? How you once n

Kotliarèvsky and I once came to loggerheads. The point of dispute was the signing of a protocol, which I absolutely refused to do. In a towering passion I seized the ink-bottle, and was quite ready to hurl it at him had he persisted in trying to force me; but he saw my intention, and keeping quite composed, called the warder and whispered somet

id Kotliarèvsky, turning to Stefanòvitch.

an, and thanked him now for his considerate treatment

st as such, they had brought me to the Fortress of Peter and Paul, which everyone knows is reserved for "politicals." "Neither do I understand," I added, "wh

ng allowed to provide myself with more comforts from my own purse, and said he wo

pectacles again; but it seemed that for this I must have an order from the prison doctor, and he was sent to see me. He was an elderly man of between sixty and seventy, and had the rank of a general officer. He was well known to be of a very harsh and unpleasant disposition, and soon gave me a proof of his quality.

y; I felt so desperate that I could scarcely con

annot read without glasses. Think what you are doing; you are condemning me

y broke down altogether. But what was I to do? I had to bear it; and it is hard to say what a man cannot put up with. But to this moment I cannot think of that doctor without my blood boiling. The

and in my immediate neighbourhood, as it seemed. Was it for me? I replied at once with the familiar signal. It was f

surprised to "meet" him here (if so one may express it). We had not previously known one another personally, but I knew that in 1880 he had been condemned to penal servitude for life, on account of his participation in various terrorist affairs, and had long ago been deported to the Siberian mines on the Kara. How came he, then, to

nied by some gendarmes. The 57door had been noiselessly opened; I had

prived of tobacco and of exercise." Thereupon he departed, and I felt like a naughty schoolboy, found out and

going to be another hearing of my case; but no, apparently I was to be taken right away. My luggage was b

to Odessa?" The offi

s whether it is evening twilight or dawn. The weather was perfect, and I felt my spirits rise at the prospect of the journey to Odessa. But alas! the carriage took another tur