“Nothing’s to be done. Keep still,” was the answer returned.
A story had recently been told us of a German subject who had been arrested in that very province and all trace of him lost. The German government had pressed its inquiries, but to no end. The man had disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed him. At last, after two years, he was found in a prison like ours. He had been locked up there and forgotten. Our arrest might work out in the same way—a most discouraging
A village priest entering a house to bless the bread after the Lenten fast
For taking this photograph the author was charged with being “antichrist”
thought. In the first place, the real charges against us might be serious in themselves, and whether they were or not, we were in prison, no one in the world knew of our whereabouts, and we might lie there till we rotted without discovering any means of escape or rescue. It is this absolute uncertainty of the outcome that makes arrest in Russia so distinctly unpleasant. After reflecting upon thoughts like these for a time, my companion and I began to feel a bit desperate.
The plan we finally adopted was a simple one: In the door of our cell was a small window looking into the corridor. Every time we heard a footstep up or down the corridor we placed our faces close to the little window and raised our voices right lustily in a prolonged miserere. We fairly yelled ourselves hoarse. At last an officer had to come to see who the two disturbers were. By this man we sent a third appeal to the commanding officer of the prison, and a third message was brought back to us:
“I command the prisoners to be silent.”
The third day of our arrest we were paroled pending an investigation by order of the governor—who, by the way, was M. Stolypin, soon to be introduced to the world as the prime minister of Russia. Nothing of a serious nature was discovered against us, and in due time we were released. There was no apology, no explanation. The espravnik ventured to congratulate us that we were not flogged by some of the gendarmes. This often happens, he told us, and we were lucky to have escaped.