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 which meant that the man had a visitor; he would be led into the hall, where in the presence of the superintendent he would be allowed to converse for a few minutes about harmless topics. Everybody was smoking, and all the signs of a holiday mood were displayed in the cell and among the people.

Mr. Fiedler came in: "Is anybody going to attend mass in the chapel?"

Nobody came forward.

"Heathen", was his abusive comment, and he turned to me: "Wouldn't you like to have a look at it?"

"Thanks, but I am of no denomination."

"That doesn't matter. Jews are the only ones we don't let in there, that would be a bit too much. But haven't you some acquaintance with whom you would like to talk?" and Mr. Fiedler smiled mysteriously.

"I understand, but I have none. I alone was reponsible for my verses. But how's your head,—does it ache?"

"Ach, Mr. M. as if somebody had been pounding it for me. Man is below the animals, far below the animals. An animal does not get in such a state. But this much I will say: If I have a boy, and that boy takes to drink, I'll kill him, I will, if l am the least bit fond of him" and he turned to the door.

"Mr. Fiedler, Mr. Fiedler" called several voices.

Mr. Fiedler waved his hands around his head, as if he were driving away a swarm of troublesome bees, and he was already outside. Warder Sponner shouted: "Those who have put their names down for writing letters today,—follow me. Wait,—no censorists. Other arrangements will be made for them."

Mr. Sponner led us through the corridor and explained to me: "A man has to shout, yes, shout,—but don't suppose that it caus-