I am neither a visionary, nor am I superstitious, yet it is probable that my gloomy thoughts, combined with my solitary imprisonment, the lack of exercise, and the horrors of my cell, had produced a slight attack of fever; for while I was musing it seemed as if the mystic symbols assumed divers grotesque shapes, the outlines of which glowed like fire, and that by my side were hideous grinning demons, who assumed a threatening attitude towards me. My breathing became difficult, my head swam, and I sank backward upon the stone seat. I may have been insensible, or perhaps only sleeping soundly, when there came a jingling of keys, and a harsh grating of bolts. This aroused me. "Get up," commanded the jailer; "follow me." I rose, my hands trembling and my teeth chattering so that I could hardly re-arrange my clothes. What fresh torture was in store for me? I dreaded to think. At the first step I attempted to take I staggered and almost fell, but recovering myself, followed the turnkey. After examining my fetters to make certain of their security, he led me through a long dark passage, up a flight of steps, down another, and through some intricate places, little more than tunnels. Unlocking a door, he bade me enter. I did so, and found myself in a square cell, damp, and pitch dark, like my own. We had been joined by another jailer in our walk through the corridor, and both men entered with me. As the lantern-light fell upon the straw I saw the cell was occupied; a man was lying there, fully dressed, and apparently asleep. "Prisoner," said the jailer, "take the clothes from off that man, dress yourself in them, and afterwards put your own on him." "But he will wake," I said. "Do as I bid," growled the man; "and look sharp; or it will be the worse for you." For a moment I did not move. I felt dazed. "Now; do you hear?" cried he angrily, shaking me roughly by the arm. I stooped over the prostrate man in order to unbutton the collar of his coarse coat, but in doing so my hand touched his chin. I withdrew it as if I had been stung, for it sent a thrill of horror through me. It was cold as ice. I was to undress a dead man! "Why do you hesitate?" the jailer asked gruffly. "Know you not that you must obey?" "This man is dead!" I said, in alarm. "And the best thing that could happen to him," was the stern reply. "Now, how long am I to wait for you?" His companion grinned at my abhorrence of the task, and uttered some words in Russian, which the other answered. It was plain I had to obey my heartless janitor, so, kneeling beside the corpse, I managed, by dint of some exertion, to divest it of its grey kaftan, strong knee boots, and sheepskin bonnet. In these I attired myself, afterwards dressing the corpse in my own clothes. My new garments were such as I had never seen before, and upon my breast was a brass plate bearing a number. "Now, take these," commanded the turnkey, throwing his light upon some things in a corner.