Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/109

 The lamps had already gone out, day was beginning to break.

In the night,—it must have been about two o'clock,—they had come to fetch Voronin. A dreadful shindy, a slamming of doors, a warder and a defence-corps man with a bayonet,—Voronin had to dress immediately, get his things together and be removed into another jail. He got up, tied his things into a pocket-handkerchief, shook hands with us and went. We were sorry for him. What was in store for him? Where would this good, quiet man be flung?

Then we went to sleep again.

And I recalled a memory. A week previously I had been on an excursion. I had gone along the Danube through blossoming meadows to Lang Enzersdorf. It had been a magnificent sunny day,—I was a free man.—

"Do you know how long the orderlies kept up their row? Till after midnight, long after midnight" related Mr. Fels.

"I never closed an eye", added Mr. Fröhlich.

"In England everything is permitted that is not forbidden, in Germany everything is forbidden that is not permitted, here everything is permitted that is forbidden,—especially in jail", remarked Mr. Goldenstein sententiously.

The bell had not yet clanged, but we got up. Even in the most oppressive situation man likes to preserve the appearance of free will,—he gets up voluntarily even though he could stay in bed another few minutes. And then he listens to the ringing of the bell with superior disdain.

But now it had already begun to peal. It seemed as if it were more shrill and ruthless than usual.

"That's it, keep your row up", growled the artillery-man.

"Get up, get up",—those who were already awake aroused those who were still sleeping.