Let no one cast a stone at me that I strayed so far from the right path. Well for thee, be thou who thou mayst, whose brow falls into severe judicial folds upon reading this--well for thee if the happy temper of thy blood has preserved thee from the blind fury of raging passions, if a judicious education has early given thee a clear view of life, and kindly smoothed thy path before thee. Then thank thy beneficent stars that have granted thee all this, and perhaps kept thee from going widely astray. For when is this not possible? It is a peril to which all are exposed. Then devoutly pray that thou mayst not be led into temptation, that no such night may come to thee as that through which I suffered; a night in which it is not only dark without, but within; a night which, when thirty years have passed, you will still shudder to think of. When the dawning light entered my cell, it found me with burning temples, and shivering with chill. I probably looked pale and haggard, for the sergeant's first word when he saw me was, "Sick: no work to-day." I was sick; I felt it but too plainly. I had never felt thus in my life before. Was this the hand of fate, I thought, which forbade our designs? If I did not go to work to day, the attempt would not be made. Cat-Kaspar reckoned on my strength, courage, and decision. My example--the example of one who was to a certain extent a volunteer, and whom they all felt to be their superior--must exert an irresistible influence upon them. Cat-Kaspar fully calculated upon this, and he neither could nor would venture without me. "No work to-day," said the sergeant. "Look as miserable as a cat. Overdid it yesterday. Not got seven senses like a bear." This last mysterious phrase--a favorite one with the sergeant--was beyond my comprehension; but its meaning could only be a friendly one, for his blue eyes rested upon me as he spoke with an expression of sincere solicitude. "Not at all," I said. "I think I shall feel better out of doors: the prison air does not suit me." "Doesn't suit anybody that I know of," growled the sergeant. "And me first of all," I said; "so badly that I have a strong inclination to go away pretty soon." I looked the old man fixedly in the eye. I wanted him to read my intention in my looks. But he only smiled and replied: "Not many would stay if all went that wanted to--Would go away myself." "Why do you not?" "Been with the captain now five-and-twenty years. Stay with him till I die." "That may happen any day." Again I looked at him steadily in the face. This time the expression of my look struck him. "Look like a bear with seven senses. Got a robber-murderous-gallows look,"[5] said he. "What I am not, I may be yet," I said; "what if I were to throttle you this moment? I am thrice as strong as you." "No stupid jokes," said the sergeant. "Not a bear; and an old soldier is no toothpick."