Page:Dostoyevsky - The House of the Dead, Collected Edition, 1915.djvu/273

 “So-and-so.”

“You?” he went on, addressing me and glaring at me through his spectacles.

“So-and-so.”

“Sergeant! To prison with them at once, shave them in the guard-house—half the head, as civilian prisoners; change their fetters to-morrow. What coats are those? Where did you get them?” he answered suddenly, his attention being caught by the grey overcoats with yellow circles on the back, which had been given us at Tobolsk and which we were wearing in his illustrious presence. “That’s a new uniform! It must be a new uniform A new pattern from Petersburg,” he added, making us turn round one after the other. “They’ve nothing with them?” he asked the escort.

“They’ve got their own clothes, your honour,” said the gendarme, drawing himself up suddenly with a positive start. Every one knew of the major, every one had heard of him, every one was frightened of him.

“Take away everything! Only give them back their underlinen, the white things; if there are any coloured things take them away; and sell all the rest by auction. The money for the prison funds. The convict has no property,” he added, looking at us sternly. “Mind you behave yourselves! Don’t let me hear of you! Or cor—po—ral pu—nishment. For the least misdemeanour—the lash!”

This reception, which was unlike anything I was used to, made me almost ill the whole evening. And the impression was increased by what I saw in the prison; but I have already described my first hours in prison.

I have mentioned already that the authorities did not, and dared not, show us any favour or make our tasks lighter than those of the other convicts. But on one occasion they did try to do so for three whole month B. and T. used to go to the engineer’s office to do clerical work there. But this was done in strict secrecy, and was the engineering officer’s doing. That is to say, all the other officials concerned knew of it, but they pretended not to. That happened when G. was commanding officer. Lieutenant-Colonel G. was a perfect godsend for the short time he was with us—not more than six months, if I mistake not, rather less perhaps. He made an extraordinary impression on the convicts before he left them to return to Russia. It was not simply that the convicts loved him; they adored him, if such a word may be