I just had time to see that the cell was a good-sized one—as cells go. In one corner there was a steam coil, but it was stone cold, and remained so all the time I was there. There was a shelf, on which stood a brown earthen pitcher for drinking-water—but nothing else. Our footsteps rang hollow on the cement floor, which had a damp feeling, like a cellar, although it was above the ground floor.
Without a word the guard went out, and the key turned in the lock with a click which had a sound of finality about it that left no room for argument.
Well, it has come, I thought to myself—the real hard German punishment... they had me at last. The other time we had outwitted them and gained many privileges of which they knew nothing, and Malvoisin had cheered me through the dark hours.
Here there was no Malvoisin, no reading-crack, no friends, nothing to save us.
They had us!
We had staked the little bit of freedom we had on the chance of getting full freedom. It was a long chance, but we had taken it—and lost!
I knew the object of all their punishment was to break our wills and make us docile, pliable, and week-kneed like the Russians we had seen in the camps—poor, spiritless fellows who could give no trouble.
Well—we would show them they could not break ours!
The eight-mile walk had tired me, and I lay down on the platform to try to sleep, but it was a long time before I could close my eyes: the darkness was so heavy, so choking and horrible. If there had been even one gleam of light it wouldn't have been so bad, but I couldn't even see a gleam under the door, and every time I tried to sleep the silence bothered me—if I could only hear one sound, to tell me some one was alive and stirring about! Still, I kept telling myself, I must put it in, some way—I must—I must—I must.