that everything should be orderly and that they would behave themselves. They agreed joyfully, and kept their promise faithfully; they were much flattered at their words being trusted. It must be added, however, that it cost the authorities nothing to allow the theatricals, they had not to contribute. No space had to be set apart for the theatre—the stage could be rigged up and taken to pieces again in a quarter of an hour. The performance lasted for an hour and a half, and if the order had suddenly come from headquarters to stop the performance, it could all have been put away in a trice. The costumes were hidden in the convicts’ boxes. But before I describe how the theatricals were arranged and what the costumes were like, I must describe the programme, that is, what it was proposed to perform.
There was no written programme. But on the second and third performances a programme in the handwriting of Baklushin made its appearance for the benefit of the officers and of distinguished visitors generally who had honoured our theatricals by being present at the first performance. The officer of the guard usually came, and on one occasion the commanding officer of the guards came himself. The officer of the engineers came, too, on one evening, and it was for visitors like these the programme was prepared. It was assumed that the fame of the prison theatricals would spread far and wide in the fortress. and would even reach the town, especially as there was no theatre in the town. There was a rumour that one performance had been got up by a society of amateurs, but that was all. The convicts were like children, delighted at the smallest success, vain over it indeed. “Who knows,” they thought and said among themselves, “perhaps even the highest authorities will hear about it, they’ll come and have a look; then they’ll see what the convicts are made of. It’s not a simple soldiers’ performance with dummy figures, floating boats, and dancing bears and goats. We have actors, real actors, they act high-class comedies, there’s no theatre like it even in the town. General Abrosimov had a performance, they say, and is going to have another, but I dare say he’ll only beat us in the dresses. As for the conversations, who knows whether they’ll be as good! It will reach the governor’s ears, maybe, and—you never can tell!—he may take it into his head to have a look at it himself. There’s no theatre in the town. . . .” In fact the prisoners’ imagination was so worked up during the holidays, especially after the first
