early days in prison he used to be more communicative, his feelings found a fuller and more frequent utterance. He had been two years in prison when I first came. At first he took interest in a great deal of what had happened in the world during those two years, of which he had no idea in prison; he questioned me, listened, was excited. But towards the end, as the years went on, he seemed to be more concentrated within and shut up in his own mind. The glowing embers were being covered up by ash. His exasperation grew more and more marked. “Je haïs ces brigands,” he often repeated to me, looking with hatred at the convicts, whom I had by then come to know better, and nothing I could say in their favour had any influence. He did not understand what I said, though he sometimes gave an absentminded assent; but next day he would say again: “Je haïs ces brigands.” We used often to talk in French, by the way; and on this account a soldier in the engineers, called Dranishnikov, nicknamed us the “medicals”—I don’t know from what connexion of ideas. M. only showed warmth when he spoke of his mother, “She is old, she is ill,” he said to me; “she loves me more than anything in the world, and here I don’t know whether she is alive or dead. To know that I had to run the gauntlet was enough for her. . . .” M. did not come of the privileged class, and before being sent to exile had received corporal punishment. He used to clench his teeth and look away when he recalled it. Towards the end he used more and more frequently to walk alone.
One morning about midday he was summoned by the governor. Our governor came out to him with a good-humoured smile.
“Well, M., what did you dream about last night?” he asked.
“I trembled,” M. told us afterwards, “I felt as though I had been stabbed to the heart.”
“I dreamt I had a letter from my mother,” he answered.
“Better than that, better than that!” replied the governor. “You are free! Your mother has petitioned in your favour, and her petition has been granted. Here is her letter and here is the order relating to you. You will leave the prison at once.”
He came back to us pale, unable to recover from the shock. We congratulated him. He pressed our hands with his cold and trembling hands. Many of the common convicts, too, congratulated him, and were delighted at his good luck.
He was released and remained in our town as a “settler.” Soon he was given a post. At first he often came to our prison,
