One morning my clothes were brought me, as I supposed for the customary walk, but I was led into a room where at a table covered with a blue cloth sat three men dressed like functionaries of the law. I was given a chair, and one of them informed me he was the examining magistrate “in specially grave cases” at the Petersburg law courts. His own name was Olshàninov, and he introduced one of his companions as the Public Prosecutor, Mouraviev;[[24]] the name of the third he did not tell me.
Then began the hearing of the case. To the usual questions concerning name, etc., I answered the truth. I knew I had nothing now either to lose or to gain. I told the whole story of the assault on Gorinòvitch, of course not giving the name of any other person concerned, and not attempting to excuse myself in the least. I knew I could injure no one now by telling the whole affair, for all who were in any way connected with it had been sentenced five years back; and as to myself, it could make no difference, for by the terms of the extradition treaty between Russia and Baden the conditions of my prosecution were strictly laid down. In the interests of historical accuracy I considered it right that this episode in our movement should be correctly described.
During the hearing, which was conducted by the magistrate, the official whose name had not been mentioned addressed several questions to me. I did not recognise him at first, but later it appeared that I had known him at Kiëv, where—in 1877—he took part in my trial. His name was Kotliarèvsky; he was then Deputy Public Prosecutor in Kiëv, and now filled the same post at the Petersburg Appeal Courts, where he had to conduct the political cases in particular. It will thus be seen that this was the real owner of the position which Bogdanòvitch had falsely claimed when pretending to identify me at Freiburg. Although Kotliarèvsky was in very bad odour with the revolutionists, and had been shot at by Ossìnsky in 1878, I was in a way glad to meet him in this gloomy place, for, at any rate, his face was a familiar one. And he behaved in a very friendly way to me. We were soon deep in conversation, recounting our respective experiences since we had last met. That we might not disturb the magistrate, who was making out the protocol, we sat a little apart, and chatted quite comfortably. Kotliarèvsky remarked that I had altered very much; “and not only in outward appearance, I mean,” he said, “your whole character seems to me changed.” That might well be. Kotliarèvsky was noted for keen observation, and this faculty was very useful to him in his peculiar sphere.
“Do you remember what a hot-headed young fellow you were? How you once nearly threw an ink-bottle at my head?”
I remembered the incident perfectly, and saw why he referred to it. When I was at Kiëv I was in a high state of nervous excitability, and in consequence was often hasty and irritable. Partly because of this, and partly because I was a member of the “Buntari,” in whose programme was included a continual warfare against all recognised authorities, Kotliarèvsky and I once came to loggerheads. The point of dispute was the signing of a protocol, which I absolutely refused to do. In a towering passion I seized the ink-bottle, and was quite ready to hurl it at him had he persisted in trying to force me; but he saw my intention, and keeping quite composed, called the warder and whispered something to him. Seeing the man hasten away, I thought he had gone for the guard to put me in confinement. Great was my surprise and joy, therefore, when after a few minutes the door opened, and my friend Stefanòvitch[[25]] appeared on the threshold. It was a delight to us both, for although in the same prison, we had not hitherto been allowed to meet.
“Will you kindly pacify your comrade?” said Kotliarèvsky, turning to Stefanòvitch. “His nerves seem a little overstrained.”
I learned thus to appreciate the adroitness of this man, and thanked him now for his considerate treatment of me on that occasion, which seemed to gratify him.
In the course of our conversation I expressed my surprise that although I had been surrendered by Germany as an ordinary criminal, only to be proceeded against as such, they had brought me to the Fortress of Peter and Paul, which everyone knows is reserved for “politicals.” “Neither do I understand,” I added, “why I have been brought to Petersburg, when the deed for which I am to answer was committed in Odessa, and according to law the trial should take place there.”
Kotliarèvsky gave me no answer on this point, but he promised to see about my being allowed to provide myself with more comforts from my own purse, and said he would speak to Plehve,[[26]] the chief of the Central Department of the State Police.
Shortly after this Colonel Lesnik gave me a more comfortable cell on the first floor, and henceforward he treated me somewhat better. Two days later he told me that my money and luggage had arrived from the police department, so I could now purchase food and tobacco. I congratulated myself even more on getting my spectacles again; but it seemed that for this I must have an order from the prison doctor, and he was sent to see me. He was an elderly man of between sixty and seventy, and had the rank of a general officer. He was well known to be of a very harsh and unpleasant disposition, and soon gave me a proof of his quality. He turned up my eyelids, fixed me with a forbidding glare, and declared off-hand that my eyes were perfectly normal and that I did not need glasses. In reality qualified oculists have diagnosed a rather unusual abnormality in my vision, and since my eighteenth year I have been obliged to use spectacles for reading.