My labours were now nearly at an end, and being, so to speak, off duty, I
could occupy myself just as I pleased. I therefore resolved to keep
watch over Zaluski in his prison.
For the first few hours after his arrest he was in a violent passion; he
paced up and down his tiny cell like a lion in a cage; he was beside
himself with indignation, and the blood leapt through his veins like
wildfire.
Then he became a little ashamed of himself and tried to grow quiet, and
after a sleepless night he passed to the opposite extreme and sat all day
long on the solitary stool in his grim abode, his head resting on his
hands, and his mind a prey to the most fearful melancholy.
The second night, however, he slept, and awoke with a steady resolve in
his mind.
"It will never do to give way like this, or I shall be in a brain fever
in no time," he reflected. "I will get leave to have books and writing
materials. I will make the best of a bad business."
He remembered how pleased he had been when Gertrude had once smiled on
him because, when all the others in the party were grumbling at the
discomforts of a certain picnic where the provisions had gone astray, he
had gaily made the best of it and ransacked the nearest cottages for
bread-and-cheese. He set to work bravely now; hoped daily for his
release; read all the books he was allowed to receive, invented solitary
games, began a novel, and drew caricatures.
In October he was again examined; but, having nothing to reveal, it was
inevitable that he could reveal nothing; and he was again sent back to
his cell "to reflect."