Within the cell it was quite dark; but suddenly a square of light appeared in the door,--the little window through which the prisoner could be observed from without. The gas had been lit in the corridor, and the unsteady light of the unprotected, flickering jet penetrated the gloom of the cell.
At the same moment the corporal on guard appeared on the threshold. He brought with him the third of a loaf of bread, and he proceeded to let down the bed from the wall.
"Shall I shut the window?" he asked.
Wolf answered hastily, "No, no, sir."
The corporal nodded, looked round once more to see if everything was in order, and quitted the cell, turning the key twice in the lock.
The reservist heard him go along the passage to Findeisen's cell. Shortly after, the click of the spurs was again audible passing his door, and then everything was as still as before.
Wolf lay on the bed and munched hard lumps of bread, from time to time taking a drink of water. After that he fell into a soothing reverie, more and more forgetting his position, till at last he settled himself down comfortably on the hard wood, and fell fast asleep.
In the middle of the night he began to feel very cold. Instinctively he tried not to awake, as if even in sleep he knew how comfortless his surroundings were. He thrust his hands up his coat-sleeves and curled himself up on the bed; but at last the cold waked him completely.
More benumbing still than the frost of the autumn night was the consciousness of his misery. He shivered with cold, and yet could not rouse himself sufficiently to get up.
In the darkness of the night, the clear light of the hopes which had so heartened him grew pale. An unspeakable fear assailed him that he might be condemned to long years of imprisonment, and the darkness which engulfed him now seemed like a symbol of that terrible time,--an endless horror.