After I had signed my name, Shubenski rang and ordered the priest to be summoned. The priest appeared and added his signature, testifying that all my admissions had been made voluntarily and without compulsion of any kind. Of course, he had never been present while I was examined; and he had not the assurance to ask my account of the proceedings. I thought of the unprejudiced witness who stopped outside our house while the police arrested me.
§8
When the enquiry was over, the conditions of my imprisonment were relaxed to some extent, and near relations could obtain permission for interviews. In this way two more months passed by.
In the middle of March our sentence was confirmed. What it was nobody knew: some said we should be banished to the Caucasus, while others hoped we should all be released. The latter was Staal’s proposal, which he submitted separately to the Tsar; he held that we had been sufficiently punished by our imprisonment.
At last, on the twentieth of March, we were all brought to Prince Golitsyn’s house, to hear our sentence. It was a very great occasion: for we had never met since we were arrested.
A cordon of police and officers of the garrison stood round us, while we embraced and shook hands with one another. The sight of friends gave life to all of us, and we made plenty of noise; we asked questions and told our adventures indefatigably.
Sokolovski was present, rather pale and thin, but as humorous as ever.
§9
Sokolovski, the author of Creation and other meritorious poems, had a strong natural gift for poetry; but this gift was neither improved by cultivation nor original enough to dispense with it. He was not a politician at all, he lived the life of a poet. He was very amusing and amiable, a cheerful companion in cheerful hours, a bon-vivant, who enjoyed a gay party as well as the rest of us, and perhaps a little better. He was now over thirty.
When suddenly torn from this life and thrown into prison, he bore himself nobly: imprisonment strengthened his character.