“Yes. She was one of those when your Excellency sent to Parotovsk,” remarked the prison governor.
“To Parotovsk!” I echoed. “That is beyond Yakutsk—two thousand five hundred miles from here—far in the north, and one of the most dreaded of all the settlements!”
“All penal settlements are dreaded, I fear,” remarked His Excellency, blowing the cigarette smoke from his lips. Then, turning to the prison governor, he inquired under what number the prisoner was registered.
On referring to one of the books the officer declared Madame to be now known as “Number 14956” and her daughter as “Number 14957.”
I took a note of the numbers, protesting to His Excellency:
“But to compel delicate ladies to walk that great distance in the winter is surely a sentence of death!”
“And if the politicals die, the State has fewer responsibilities,” he remarked. “As you see, we have received notification from Petersburg that your lady friend was a dangerous person. Now, of dangerous persons we take very special care.” Then, turning to the prison governor, he asked: “How did they go?”
“By tarantass. Excellency. They were in too weak a state to walk, especially the elder prisoner. I doubt, indeed, if ever they will reach Parotovsk.”
“And if they don’t it will perhaps be the better for both of them,” His Excellency remarked with a sigh, rising and casting his cigarette-end into the pan of the round iron stove. He was a stiff, unbending official and ruled the province with a ruthless hand, but at heart he often evinced sympathy with the female exiles.
“Were they very ill?” I inquired quickly of the prison governor.