J. S. MACHAR
tically that he had wanted the light put out, that the warder had refused, and so he had put it out himself."
The piercing sound of a bell echoed through the jail.
"9 o'clock. That is how they will wake us up tomorrow at five."
I got into bed. White shapes slipped under the blankets. Talking went on in a whisper. And smoking continued as well.
By my bed there was some sort of ventilation. An oblong opening on to the passage, covered with perforated sheet-iron. I turned in such a way that I could breathe the air that poured in.
And I began to arrange the day's impressions—it had been a very exciting day—and I weighed up my first impressions of the jail. Everything was quite different from what I had supposed.
X.
As far as the eye could see, a plain on all sides. Nowhere even a small hill, no end of the plain was in sight. And meadows, meadows, fresh, blossoming, fragrant meadows. Above them the blue sky, in the sky not a single cloud, and I stood upon a footpath and looked about me. I felt within me the happiness of this glowing June day and the delight of aman who is not reminded by any inner voice nor by circumstances without that he has any duties, that there is anything he “must” do. I need not hurry anywhere nor make preparations for anything, nor think about anything; there is no "you must" today, there will be none tomorrow. Freedom is the greatest happiness, and I was in full possession of it. I took a deep breath, opened my arms wide, and spread out my fingers like a fan—I wanted to enjoy this fragrant air, to embrace the golden light of day, to let this smiling happiness in at every pore. On the
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