It is absolutely against the rules of our societies not to stand by each other in all dealings with the authorities, whatever the occasion. Despite the fact that the majority among us saw no ground for persisting in this revolt, we were at the mercy of the hot-headed youngsters, and the situation was becoming strained. A struggle seemed inevitable; but some of us had the happy idea of trying the practical experiment of fitting ourselves into one of the vehicles, to see whether the official arrangement were feasible or not. The trial was made, and it turned out that with a little goodwill it was quite possible to find room for seven persons in each troïka. In face of this simple fact, the malcontents could hardly maintain their attitude; so with a little further grumbling and delay they gave in. We had not gone far before each carriage was lightened of one passenger; the soldiers preferred to ride on the baggage-waggons, and only one was left to guard each four prisoners; so we were more comfortable, and everything was peaceably settled.
During the voyage on the Volga and Kama we had fallen into various groups of friends, who now naturally wished to keep together during the land journey. The idea suggested itself of giving our ladies the right to choose their cavaliers, and this plan found favour with the majority; but there were one or two who objected to any sort of “woman’s privileges,” and even some others who disliked travelling in female society, and declared themselves hors de concours. These latter incorrigible mysogynists were, as may be supposed, the youngest among us.
This travelling by troïka has, as is well known, a special charm of its own. It can scarcely be called driving; one flies and rushes along at a most exhilarating pace. On that side of the Ural Mountains spring was only just beginning; everything was budding and sprouting, and the air was full of song and other happy sounds of young life.
We flew along great stretches of the highway, raising enormous clouds of whirling dust. Our drivers cheered on their horses with cries and whistling, continually urging them to yet greater speed. At first we sat by fours in the carriages, generally two men and two women; but soon we changed places at every halt, and then five or six people might be seen in one carriage, while only two would be left in another. Here there would be chatter, joking, and songs; there, earnest quiet talk not to be overheard by the guards—words of far-reaching import being perhaps spoken in those whispered conferences. The intimate life in prison had brought many into close relations that had been strengthened during the long journey by rail and boat; and the drive together now gave fresh opportunities for bringing the fellow-sufferers nearer to one another.
SIBERIAN HALTING-STATION (ÉTAPE)
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Every day we left two stages behind us, each from fifty to sixty versts (about thirty-three to forty English miles), on which the horses were often only changed once, the change being made with lightning rapidity, as the fresh steeds were generally waiting ready harnessed for our hurrying procession. While the drivers were occupied over this business we usually made a hasty meal, buying provisions from the market-women waiting in the yard of the posting-station—hard-boiled eggs, milk, bread, etc. The halting-station (étape) for the night we generally reached early, long before twilight set in. Here the first thing was to prepare our meal—dinner and supper in one; that was the task of the stàrosta and some volunteer assistants. Afterwards we stayed out in the open air as long as possible. Songs were sung in chorus; groups and couples wandered about in confidential talk; or sometimes we held formal debates, of a very animated description.
On one of the earliest days of our journey we made our first halt in the open, far from any posting-station. We all got out and stood before a boundary post; it was that one so often described, of such sad renown, which bears in engraved letters the two words, “Europe,” “Asia.”
It was now the beginning of June. A year and three months had gone by since my arrest in Freiburg, and I had now crossed the border between two continents. The sight of this landmark, passed by thousands driven into exile, brought thronging many gloomy thoughts. I had passed fifteen months in German and Russian gaols. “How many years have I now to linger in a Siberian prison?” I asked myself. “Shall I ever see this signpost again on a return journey? or shall I find my grave over yonder in Siberia?”