FiveyearslaterIampacingthecourtyardoftheMetechskiPrisoninTiflis，and，asIdoso，tryingtoimagineforwhatparticularoffenceIhavebeenincarceratedinthatplaceofconfinement。
　　Picturesquelygrimwithout，theinstitutionis，inwardly，peopledwithasetofcheerful，butclumsy，humourists。Thatistosay，itwouldseemasthough，“byorderoftheauthorities，“theinmatesarepresentingastagespectacleinwhichtheyareplaying，willinglyandzealously，butwithacompletelackofexperience，imperfectlycomprehendedrolesasprisoners，warders，andgendarmes。
　　Forinstance，today，whenawarderandagendarmecametomycelltoescortmetoexercise，andIsaidtothem，“MayIbeexcusedexercisetoday？Iamnotverywell，anddonotfeellike，etcetera，etcetera，“thegendarme，atall，handsomemanwitharedbeard，helduptomeawarningfinger。
　　“NOONE，“hesaid，“hasgivenyoupermissiontofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。“
　　Towhichthewarder，amanasdarkasachimney-sweep，withlargeblue“whites“tohiseyes，addedstutteringly:
　　“Tonooneherehaspermissionbeengiventofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。Youhearthat？“
　　SotoexerciseIwent。
　　Inthisstone-pavedyardtheairisashotasinanoven，foroverheadthereloursonlyasmall，flatpatchofdull，drab-
　　tintedsky，andonthreesidesoftheyardrisehighgreywalls，with，onthefourth，theentrance-gates，toppedbyasortoflook-outpost。
　　OvertheroofofthebuildingtherecomesfloatingthedullroaroftheturbulentriverKura，mingledwithshoutsfromthehuckstersoftheAvlabarBazaarthetown’sAsiaticquarterandasacrossmotifthrownintothesesounds，thesighingofthewindandthecooingofdoves。Infact，tobehereislikebeinginadrumwhichamyriaddrumsticksarebeating。
　　Throughthebarsofthedoublelineofwindowsonthesecondandthethirdstoriespeerthemurkyfacesandtowsledheadsofsomeoftheinmates。Oneofthelatterspitshisfurthestintotheyard——evidentlywiththeintentionofhittingmyself:butallhiseffortsprovevain。Anotheroneshoutswithamordantexpletive:
　　“Hi，you！Whydoyoukeeptrampingupanddownlikeanoldhen？
　　Holdupyourhead！“
　　Meanwhiletheinmatescontinuetointoneinconcertastrangechantwhichisastangledasaskeinofwoolafterservingasaplaythingforakitten’sprolongedgameofsport。Sadlythechantmeanders，wavers，toahigh，wailingnote。Then，asitwere，itsoarsyethighertowardsthedull，murkysky，breakssuddenlyintoasnarl，and，growlinglikeawildbeastinterror，diesawaytogiveplacetoarefrainwhichcoils，tricklesforthfrombetweenthebarsofthewindowsuntilithaspermeatedthefree，torridair。
　　AsIlistentothatrefrain，longfamiliartome，itseemstovoicesomethingintelligible，andagitatesmysoulalmosttoasenseofagony……
　　Presently，whilepacingupanddownintheshadowofthebuilding，Ihappentoglancetowardsthelineofwindows。Gluedtotheframeworkofoneoftheironwindow-squares，Icandiscernablue-eyedface。Overgrownwithanuntidysablebearditis，aswellasstampedwithalookofperpetuallygrievedsurprise。
　　“ThatmustbeKonev，“Isaytomyselfaloud。
　　Konevitis——Konevofthewell-rememberedeyes。Evenatthismomenttheyareregardingmewithpuckeredattention。
　　Ithrowaroundmeahastyglance。Myownwarderisdozingonashadybenchneartheentrance。Twomorewardersareengagedinthrowingdice。Afourthissuperintendingthepumpingofwaterbytwoconvicts，andsuperciliouslymarkingtimefortheirleverwiththeformula，“Mashkam，dashkam！Dashkam，mashkam！“
　　Imovetowardsthewall。
　　“Isthatyou，Konev？“ismyinquiry。
　　“Itis，“hemuttersashethrustshisheadalittlefurtherthroughthegrating。“Yes，KonevIam，butwhoyouareIhavenotanotion。“
　　“Whatareyouherefor？“
　　“Foramatterofbasecoin，though，tobetruthful，Iamhereaccidentally，withoutgenuinecause。“
　　Thewarderrouseshimself，and，withhiskeysjinglinglikeasetoffetters，uttersdrowsilythecommand:
　　“Donotstandstill。Also，movefurtherfromthewall。Toapproachitisforbidden。“
　　“Butitissohotinthemiddleoftheyard，sir！“
　　“Everywhereitishot，“retortsthemanreprovingly，andhisheadsubsidesagain。Fromabovecomesthewhisperedquery:
　　“WhoAREyou？“
　　“Well，doyourememberTatiana，thewomanfromRiazan？“
　　“DOIrememberher？“Konev’svoicehasinitatouchofsubduedresentment。“DOIrememberher？Why，Iwastriedincourttogetherwithher！“
　　“TogetherwithHER？Wasshetoosentencedforthepassingofbasecoin？“
　　“Yes。Whyshouldshenothavebeen？Shewasmerelythevictimofanaccident，evenasIwas。“
　　AsIresumemywalkinthestiflingshadeIdetectthat，fromthewindowsofthebasementthereisissuingasmellof，inequalparts，rottenleather，mouldygrain，anddampness。TomymindthererecurTatiana’swords:“Amidagreatsorrowevenasmalljoybecomesagreatfelicity，“and，“Ishouldliketobuildavillageonsomelandofmyown，andcreateformyselfanewandbetterlife。“
　　AndtomyrecollectionthererecuralsoTatiana’sfaceandyearning，hungrybreast。AsIstandthinkingofthesethings，therecomedroppingontomyheadfromabovethelow-spoken，ashen-greywords:
　　“Thechiefconspiratorinthematterwasherlover，thesonofapriest。Heitwaswhoengineeredtheplot。Hehasbeensentencedtotenyearspenalservitude。“
　　“Andshe？“
　　“TatianaVasilievna？Tothesame，andIalso。IleaveforSiberiathedayaftertomorrow。ThetrialwasheldatKutair。InRussiaIshouldhavegotoffwithalightersentencethanhere，forthefolkinthesepartsare，oneandall，evil，barbaricscoundrels。“
　　“AndTatiana，hassheanychildren？“
　　“Howcouldshehavewhilelivingsucharoughlifeasthis？Ofcoursenot！Besides，thepriest’ssonisaconsumptive。“
　　“IndeedsorryforheramI！“
　　“SoIexpect。“AndinKonev’stonetherewouldseemtobeatouchofmeaning。“Thewomanwasafool——ofthattherecanbenodoubt；butalsoshewascomely，aswellasapersonoutofthecommoninherpityforfolk。“
　　“Wasitthenthatyoufoundheragain？“
　　“When？“
　　“OnthatFeastoftheAssumption？“
　　“Ohno。ItwasonlyduringthefollowingwinterthatIcameupwithher。AtthetimeshewasservingasgovernesstothechildrenofanoldofficerinBatumwhosewifehadlefthim。“
　　Somethingsnapsbehindme——somethingsoundinglikethehammerofarevolver。However，itisonlythewarderclosingthelidofhishugewatchbeforerestoringthewatchtohispocket，givinghimselfastretch，andyawningtotheutmostextentofhisjaws。
　　“Yousee，shehadmoney，and，butforherrestlessness，mighthavelivedacomfortablelifeenough。Asitwas，herrestlessness——“
　　“Timeforexerciseisup！“shoutsthewarder。
　　“Whoareyou？“addsKonevhastily。“SomehowIseemtorememberyourface；but1cannotplaceit。“
　　YetsostungamIwithwhatIhaveheardthatImoveawayinsilence:savethatjustasIreachthetopofthestepsIturntocry:
　　“Goodbye，mate，andgivehermygreeting。“
　　“Whatareyoubawlingfor？“blustersthewarder……
　　Thecorridorisdim，andfilledwithanoppressiveodour。Thewarderswingshiskeyswithadry，thinclash，andI，todullthepaininmyheart，strivetoimitatehim。Buttheattemptprovesfutile；andasthewarderopensthedoorofmycellhesaysseverely:
　　“Inwithyou，ten-yearsman！“
　　Entering，Imovetowardsthewindow。BetweensomegreyspikesonawallIcanjustdiscerntheboisterouscurrentoftheKura，withsakli[warehouses]andhousesgluedtotheoppositebank，andthefiguresofsomeworkmenontheroofofatanningshed。
　　Below，withhiscappushedtothebackofhishead，asentryispacingbackwardsandforwards。
　　WearilymymindrecallsthemanyscoresofRussianfolkwhomithasseenperishtonopurpose。Andasitdoessoitfeelscrushed，asinavice，beneaththeburdenofgreatandinexorablesorrowwithwhichalllifeisdowered。
　　INAMOUNTAINDEFILE
　　InamountaindefilenearalittletributaryoftheSunzha，therewasbeingbuiltaworkman’sbarraque——alow，longedificewhichremindedoneofalargecoffinlid。
　　Thebuildingwasapproachingcompletion，and，meanwhile，ascoreofcarpenterswereemployedinfashioningthinplanksintodoorsofequalthinness，knockingtogetherbenchesandtables，andfittingwindow-framesintothesmallwindow-squares。
　　Also，toassistthesecarpentersinthetaskofprotectingthebarraquefromtribesmen’snocturnalraids，theshrill-voicedyoungstudentofcivilengineeringwhohadbeensetinchargeoftheworkhadsenttotheplace，aswatchman，anex-soldiernamedPaulIvanovitch，amanoftheCossacktype，andmyself。