He pushed me aside, placed a stool under the rope and ordered me, in a terrible voice, to stand up on it.
“Now say your last prayers,” he repeated.
He then placed the noose around my neck and jerked the stool from under my feet. In an instant it tightened about my throat, I wanted to cry out but could not, the pressure against the crown of my head was so terrific that it seemed about to crack open. Then I lost consciousness.
As the noose was tightening around my neck Yasha came to himself and hastened to loosen it. I dropped, lifeless, to the floor. In response to his calls for help several politicals, among whom were a couple of medical students, came running to the house. They made every effort to revive me, succeeding only after long and persistent attempts. When I opened my eyes, the whole colony was at my bedside. Pressed for an explanation of his inhuman act Yasha told Dmitri’s story.
Then Prince Gutemurov revealed what he had seen the previous night, on his way home. Yasha was overwhelmed. He fell on his knees and begged my forgiveness, cursing Dmitri and promising to make short work of him. But Yasha could not find him. Dmitri learned of the disclosure and disappeared forever from Amga.
Soon afterwards, another incident occurred which further embittered my life with Yasha. In his absence Vasili, a political, came and told me that the authorities were in receipt of an order to arrest and send him to Irkutsk to be tried on a new charge, which carried with it the death-sentence. It was a regular practice of the Tsar’s government to recall exiles for second trials on some additional bit of evidence.
Vasili asked me to lend him our horse, “Maltchik,” to help him escape. Knowing how attached Yasha was to the horse, I refused Vasili’s request. But he persisted in imploring me, claiming that Prince Gutemurov had seen the order for the arrest, and that the sheriff was already on his tracks.
“But how could the horse be returned?” I asked Vasili, touched by his continuous pleading. He replied that he would leave it with a certain Yakut friend of ours, some hundred versts away, and I finally yielded, although not without misgivings. As soon as he left with “Maltchik” my anxiety grew into alarm. I hurried to Prince Gutemurov to verify Vasili’s story. How thunder-struck I was upon learning from the Prince that he knew of no order to arrest Vasili, and that he had not even seen him. It was clear that I had been swindled and that I would never see the horse again.
“My God!” I thought, “what will happen upon Yasha’s return and his discovery that “Maltchik” is gone?”
The fear of death rose up before me, the impression of my recent escape from hanging still fresh in my mind. I trembled at the thought of Yasha, with the feeling of an entrapped animal seeking an escape. But there seemed to be no remedy.