Awe-struck at finding myself under arrest, I sank upon the narrow stone
shelf which served as chair, and tried to recollect the events of the
past few hours. I knew nothing, save that I had been drugged, and by
some means conveyed there. What was my crime? Why had I been arrested?
I wondered.
Through the roof of the cell came a tiny glimmer of light, not half
sufficient to enable me to discern anything, though it was evident from
this, as well as from the sodden dampness of the walls, that my place of
confinement was underground.
The horrors of that Dantean dungeon were indescribable. Before I had
lodged at the expense of the Russian Government a few days, the fearful
suspense and agony of mind had already added years to my age.
As I sat, desponding and forlorn, I experienced for the first time,
regret that I had ever known Vera Seroff. All my good resolutions not
to prejudge her went to the winds, and I found myself regretting from
the bottom of my heart that I, who had passed unscathed through many a
mad infatuation, had permitted myself to become so enamoured and
fascinated by her irresistible charms.
Fool that I was to be so blind to her false assumption of injured
innocence, to believe that she ever entertained any affection for me, or
to imagine that by undertaking a journey across the continent I could
render her a service.
And that crotchety old bore, Hertzen. Surely I must have been wilfully
undiscerning not to have detected a closer tie between them. No doubt
she was his wife, or, yet more probable--no relation whatever.
I ground my teeth and paced the slimy stone floor in anger as I thought
how ingeniously I had been tricked; how from the beginning I had been an
unresisting dupe in the hands of a heartless, designing woman. She must
indeed be sadly wanting in womanly love and tenderness to be a party to
this vile plot, whatever its object might be. Doubtless she knew of my
arrest, and from her place of safety laughed with satisfaction as she
reflected upon her own cleverness.
These and a thousand other thoughts surged through my brain as I walked
to and fro in hopeless dejection. Alone, heart-broken at realising my
idol shattered, that she whom I believed immaculate and loved so dearly
was base and false, I felt utterly indifferent to what my fate might be,
only desiring not to be kept in that horrible suspense, but to know the
worst.
If it were death, what would it matter? Though young, I had seen the
world, tasted of its pleasures, and grown _blase_. The sun of my
existence was the hope of making Vera my wife, yet now it was blotted
out I cared no longer to live, for my life in future would be one of
blank despair.
After a few hours I heard a rattling in the lock, a jingle of keys, and
the door opened, revealing the brawny form of a man bearing a lantern.
It was my jailer.
He held in his hand a basin containing soup and some black bread, which
he placed upon the floor without deigning to bestow a word upon me.
As he turned to leave I rose and, clutching his arm, addressed him in
French.
Turning the light full upon my face, he took a couple of paces backward,
fearing perhaps that I was about to attack him.
"Why am I here?" I asked. "Tell me, what is the crime I am accused
of?"
He regarded me for a moment in surprise, answering:
"How should I know?"
"But surely you are aware who brought me here?"
"The _gorodovoi_, I suppose," he grunted savagely.
"And what is this detestable place called?" I asked.
"The Fortress; the prison from which no man has ever been known to
escape."
"Are its bolts and bars so strong?"
"Yes, and there is no way out for convicts unless they swim the Neva,"
the man replied, grinning with satisfaction.
"Are you not aware of my crime?" I asked, persuasively.
"No, I know nothing about it. My business is not with the crime but
with the criminal," he growled.
"I am an Englishman--a foreigner--and cannot be supposed to know your
laws. Is this what you term justice in Russia--to imprison a man
without trial?"
"You have had your trial and been condemned. In the sentence passed
upon you by the Court you were told the crime for which you must
suffer."
"Condemned!" I cried. "Condemned for what? Why, I have had no trial.
I have never been before the Court!"
He turned from me, and as he did so, muttered:
"Ah! just what I thought--mad. These cells below the river always
affect their brains."
In another moment the key turned heavily in the lock, the bolts shot
into their sockets, and I was again alone.
Was I mad, as the turnkey believed? I was almost convinced I must be,
the events of the past few hours seemed so unreal--like the impression
of some horrible dream.
I had been sentenced, the jailer said. Sentenced for what? I had
wronged no man on earth that I was aware of, neither had I done an evil
action willingly. What was my offence, and what was my sentence?
For days I lived with this one thought, crushed by its terrible weight,
frozen by its ghastly presence. Not days, but years ago it seemed,
since I was a man like any other, with an intellect young and fresh,
losing itself in a pleasant world of fantasy, with buoyant hopes for the
future; an existence full of life and light, gaiety, and unalloyed
happiness, with naught to trouble me save the realisation of my fond
dream of marrying Vera and dwelling with her in perfect felicity.
Joyous and free had been my thoughts, therefore I was free also.
Alas! those aerial castles, those blissful illusions, had been cruelly
dispelled, for I was free no longer.