CHAPTER IV
THE VISIT OF “MY WIFE”—MORE PLANS OF ESCAPE—THE PUBLIC PROSECUTOR SHOWS HIS HAND—PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY
On one of the following days I was told there was someone to see me. No sooner had I crossed the threshold of the visitors’ room than a young lady threw herself, laughing and weeping, into my arms. It was Frau Bulìgin. As I was in prison under her husband’s name, she had now come to play the part of my wife; and so well did she play it as even to soften the heart of the Public Prosecutor, who witnessed this moving scene of meeting between such a young and loving pair. He left us alone for a moment, and only when the first emotional greetings were over did he warn us that we must speak German; but his tone was less stern and dry than at my first encounter with him, when Frau Axelrod was there. Frau Bulìgin had at once whispered to me that I must somehow contrive that we should speak Russian, as she had important things to talk about. I therefore begged Herr von Berg to let us speak in our own language.
“I cannot,” he said shortly; “you both seem able to speak German quite well enough to understand one another.”
“You must allow,” said I, “that however well a man speaks a foreign tongue, when he meets his wife after weeks of imprisonment and in circumstances like mine, he wants to speak freely. We cannot talk of family affairs in German. But,” I continued, “if you insist about this, though I cannot understand by what law nor for what reason, could you not let Professor Thun be present as he would understand all we said in Russian?”
After some further demur he at last relented so far as to say that though he would not request Professor Thun’s attendance himself, not being in any way bound to do so, yet if the professor chose to do us such a favour, we might then be permitted to speak Russian. Of course I would not betray my relations with Professor Thun, so I carefully inquired his address, that my wife might take him a message.
“Your wife shall be given it in my office,” said Herr von Berg. So he and Frau Bulìgin departed, and I was taken back to my cell.
After a short interval I was sent for again, and found Professor Thun with the others. I had not seen him for some time, as he had been away for his Easter holidays; besides, his official duties as translator had come to an end, and my case being now in the hands of the Public Prosecutor, he had not the same freedom of access to me. Frau Bulìgin told me that she had hurried hither because of the great anxiety felt about me by my comrades. Russian spies were closely watching all my friends and acquaintances in Geneva; showing my photograph (which of course strongly resembled that sent from Freiburg by the police), and asking where I was. From this my friends concluded that the Russian Government was already on my track; they feared that if my imprisonment lasted much longer my real identity would certainly be discovered, and they therefore begged me to try and effect my escape. We talked over every chance, and tried to work out a plan, Professor Thun taking the warmest interest, and making many suggestions. But, as I said before, absolutely no plans were feasible from the cell I was in now; and I will not trouble to describe those we discussed, except to repeat that Professor Thun played an important part in them all, even undertaking to provide me with a key to the outer door of the prison. The personal risk he was willing to accept, or even court, was great; yet this was the man who had at one time avowed his desire of handing me over to Russian justice! After eighteen years it is scarcely comprehensible to me, spite of my lively recollection of his kindness and sympathy.
The Public Prosecutor, Von Berg, who remained in the room during all this confabulation, played rather a comical part. Of course, he understood not a word, as we spoke Russian; but whenever we laughed he smiled indulgently, as if amused at us. I cannot imagine what would have been the feelings of this painfully correct and stern old gentleman if he had known the chief cause of our merriment, which was simply that we had to concoct the report of our conversation with which Professor Thun was subsequently to regale his worship.
When we had finished our consultations, which lasted rather a long time, Frau Bulìgin took a very tender farewell of me. She thanked Von Berg for having allowed us to speak Russian, and asked him how soon he thought I should be released. I think he told her that he believed the case would be concluded in a few days, mentioning the date. In any case, he added, if I were set free I should be handed over to the police to be conducted over whatever frontier was convenient—the Swiss, he supposed, being the nearest.
I held fast to the hope that it really would be so, and tried to stifle the doubts that persisted in rising. It was certainly pleasanter to dream of prospective freedom, than to brood over the consequences of extradition to Russia, or even of being set over the Russian border. The sight of Frau Bulìgin had aroused keen longings for liberty; fancy painted joyful pictures, my thoughts dwelt on my friends and my work. Mentally I lived through many scenes of welcome, and saw our circle setting to work with redoubled energy at our “League for the Emancipation of Labour.” I planned out to the smallest detail how I would make up for my enforced idleness. I lived only in the future, and looked on the dreary present as if it were a long-vanished past, a disagreeable episode that I and mine could talk over as far behind us.