The morning after this I went for exercise, accompanied by my four guardians. The yard set apart for me was a space between the prison building and the surrounding wall. The soldiers posted themselves at a little distance from each other, standing at attention, while I strolled up and down the space between them, closely attended by the gendarme and the policeman. It was heavenly weather, the clear, mild autumn of the South. As my guardians seemed equally to appreciate the spell of freedom after the narrow, close corridor, our walks lasted longer and longer. I attempted on these occasions to get into more friendly relations with the gendarme, who, besides being stiffened by severe discipline, was naturally of a gloomy, morose turn of mind. When we were walking up and down, especially if the policeman were temporarily absent, I tried to engage him in conversation, and asked him questions on indifferent subjects. This man had been selected from among many others as the most trusty, zealous, and incorruptible. I must explain that as he had no substitute during his watch over me (which lasted two or three months), he was supposed to be never off duty, but to spend his entire time in the corridor outside my door, to eat there, and to sleep there as well as he could. To my knowledge he never once changed his clothes! The policeman, on the other hand, only remained twenty-four hours at a time on duty, being then relieved by another member of his force; and the two soldiers were changed every two hours, from the regular military guard which is attached to every Russian prison.

As I was saying, I tried to get the gendarme to talk to me during my exercise, and after a while I found out his weak side, and that even he had not a heart of stone. He had an enormous family; and it was very grievous to him that as he had received strict orders not to take his eyes off me for a second, he could never get away to visit his home. He at last contrived to move the governor to stand by him, and let him off for an hour now and then, without his superiors knowing of it. These secret visits of the gendarme to his wife and children led to a tacit understanding between him and me, and brought us more together. He could not help letting out complaints now and then about the severe discipline that kept him away from his family; and as I listened with much sympathy, he presently began to talk about the service, and his hard work. He related to me how he had helped to get hold of Socialists in various ways.

“My chief once ordered me,” he said, “to keep an eye privately on one of the specialist ladies” (unfamiliar words were rather a stumbling-block to him, and socialist was always specialist in his vocabulary). “Oh, she was a oner! Clever and cute, and could lead us all by the nose. Vera Figner[[34]] was her name. A real beauty she was, and must have been well brought up, and associated generally with the officers’ families. Well, I dressed up in private clothes and followed her secretly wherever she went. If she took a carriage, I got into a droschky and went after her. If she went into a house, I took down the address, and asked the concierge who it was the fair lady had visited; so I got to know pretty well who her friends were. I followed her like this for three days. Suddenly she disappeared; I couldn’t find her anywhere; she might have sunk into the ground. I tell you I did feel a fool! They say she went to Khàrkov, and that in the end she was caught.”[[35]]

This zealous gendarme, who had dogged the footsteps of the “specialists” with such zest, became in the end quite confidential with me, especially when I told him I would give him this and that little thing as souvenirs when my fate was finally decided. From him I learned the details about the watch that was being kept over me. He confided to me, among other things, that the governor of the town, the commandant of the garrison, and the colonel of the gendarmerie had come to look at me during the first days of my imprisonment here; had spied at me through the peephole without my being aware of it, and had strictly ordered that I was not to be told.

By degrees the days grew shorter, and I did not know how to pass the time during the long evenings, for I had no light. Often I ran up and down in my cell for hours together, till I was tired out. Sometimes I would station myself at the door, and listen to the conversation of my attendants. The policemen were the most entertaining; they relieved one another every twenty-four hours, and as it was only a few of the most trustworthy men in the force who took turns in this watch over me, I soon got to know them all. It was from them that the gendarme and I—almost equally prisoners—heard all the news, the gossip of the town, and so forth. Occasionally one of them would smuggle in a newspaper, which would then be read aloud in the select little club we formed. I would stick my hand with the paper in it through the peephole, so as to get some light, press my face against the opening, and read aloud to the others. The two soldiers would stand at ease beside the door, listening eagerly, while a few steps further off the policeman and the gendarme sat on their bench. If we had no newspaper, nor any special subject for talk, the policemen would tell tales of witches, demons, or the devil, to which the honourable members of the “club” listened with perhaps almost greater interest than to my political readings and disquisitions.

In this way I learned from time to time what was going on in the world, despite the attempts of three high functionaries to prevent (as the governor of the gaol phrased it) even a fly getting into my cell. Moreover, I managed besides to get news that is not to be found in Russian journals, namely, accounts of events in revolutionary Russia. A man filling a rather high official position, a well-wisher to our cause, helped me to this. I owe much to him; but as I do not know whether he be still living or not, I dare not give his name, nor particulars of my relations with him, for fear of harm ensuing to himself. It is our rule never to speak fully about noble deeds done on behalf of revolutionists or the revolutionary movement unless the doers are either dead or in exile. I can only say that through this friend I was able to send letters to my comrades, and that he kept me informed of all that might interest me in external events. I learned, among other things, that the well-known revolutionists then living in exile in Paris—Peter Lavrov, Lopàtin, and Tihomìrov—had held a council upon the conduct of Degàiev[[36]]—then also in Paris—and had come to the conclusion that though certainly, in assisting to “remove” Soudyèhkin, Degàiev had rendered a service to the revolutionary cause, yet that he must refrain unconditionally from any further participation in our movement, and from associating in any way with revolutionists. I learned also that a young girl of twenty, Maria Kalyùshnaya,[[37]] had attempted to shoot Colonel Katànsky of the gendarmerie in his own house, but had not been successful. About a fortnight before my removal to Odessa she had been tried before a court-martial; and as she was not of age, had “only” been sentenced to twenty years’ penal servitude in Siberia.

CHAPTER X
A BRAVE OFFICER—MY MILITARY SERVICE—THE TRIAL—FURTHER EXAMINATIONS

On one of the first days of my imprisonment in Odessa I had a small passage-at-arms. I was pacing my cell, when I suddenly heard voices raised outside the door. I went and looked through the peephole. It was the officer of the day on his rounds of inspection, and he seemed to be questioning one of the soldiers about his duties. I was going to draw back again, when the words, “Get away from there, you scoundrel!” struck my ears; and only after a moment did I realise they were addressed to me. I was extremely surprised, for the officers generally behaved quite politely to the “politicals.”

I instantly withdrew from the door without a word, but I resolved to teach this gentleman a lesson in manners. So that evening, when the deputy-governor paid his usual visit to my cell, accompanied by the officer, without appearing to notice the latter I asked if prisoners were forbidden to look through the peephole.

“No, of course not,” said the deputy-governor. “How could anyone prevent you?”