Page:Julian Niemcewicz - Notes of my Captivity in Russia.djvu/210

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182
PRISON LIFE.

beef, pastry, and a bottle of wine or porter: it was much for prisoners. But do we think of good cheer when we have no liberty? As for myself. I cared so little for it, that when the communication was interrupted, in consequence of the state of the river, and they gave us herrings, cheese, and beer, I scarcely noticed any difference. I ate very little; so did my servant; and our portions were then devoured by the officer and his soldiers. They helped me to meat cut in large pieces, which, as I had neither knife nor fork, I was obliged to tear with my fingers. My moustache and beard annoyed me much during my meals. After dinner, they left us long in darkness: and I employed this time in taking a walk. I had chosen the diagonal line across my room as the longest, being about eight small paces. I walked absorbed in melancholy thought. I often intended to walk so many thousand paces: I counted them, but nearly always erred in my calculation, and fell again into my reveries. By dint of walking in the same diagonal line, I impressed on it, in the course of two years, a