"What's the matter, Sashenka? Why don't you say something? Are you angry with me?"
"No, Felipe, you foolish little boy."
"You are laughing at me."
"No, dear; I feel just as you do."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I am so glad, Sashenka."
In the evening the guards descend to relieve Johnny; he is to be transferred to the basket, they inform him. On the way past my cell, he whispers: "Hope I'll see you soon, Sashenka." A friendly officer knocks on the outer blind door of my cell. "That you thar, Berkman? You want to b'have to th' Dep'ty. He's put you down for two more days for sassin' him."
I feel more lonesome at the boy's departure. The silence grows more oppressive, the hours of darkness heavier.