It was hardly surprising that Marie Koutowzow, a refined and delicate woman, should become infected by the fever that was raging. Very soon she grew too ill to participate in the daily fight for food, and I obtained her rations for her. Lying upon one of the plank beds at the further end of the _kamera_, she bore the ravages of the disease bravely, praying that death might release her. Her desire was fulfilled, for six days after she had been attacked the malady proved fatal. For three whole days the body was allowed to remain in that crowded den of filth. None dare complain. We knew too well that the reward for pointing out the fact to the officials would be an unceremonious knouting, for in Siberia the lash is used at the slightest provocation. In the same ragged dress that I had worn during my three months’ tramp from European Russia, and which was insufficient to protect me from the intense cold, I was taken from this Dantean _kamera_ at dawn one day and chained to a large gang of convicts. Then I learned that my sentence was subterranean hard labour at Kara, the most terrible mines in the whole of Siberia! To the exiles who had been my companions from St. Petersburg I bade farewell, and as one of a convoy of criminals of the most dangerous class, I left the forwarding-prison and wearily dragged my chains across the endless snow-covered steppes, _en route_ for the dreaded district beyond Irkutsk. The thought that each step took me nearer to my living tomb rendered me desperate. Why should I, innocent of crime, be tortured to death in the same manner as murderers and hardened criminals? I resolved to endeavour to escape. It was a mad project, I admit, for there was but little chance of crossing the wastes of snow which stretched away three thousand miles before civilisation could be reached. Nevertheless I determined to risk all. If I died in the snow, or starved, it would end my miserable existence, and prevent further tortures being heaped upon me.