Tatiania, who was always an emotional woman, broke down completely, and wept till she was quite exhausted. Marfa took little Clava on to her lap, and sang soothing songs to her. But they could do nothing for Tatiania, only Sergius looked down on his mother with unutterable pity for her in his heart. But it was not the dark night only, it was the long day that followed, and succeeding days and nights, night and day. They had some hundreds of miles to travel before they could reach the nearest station on the Volga, where they would exchange the convict-train for the convict-barge. The ceaseless motion of the rumbling train became a positive torture to the cramped bodies, which had no space for moving. They escaped the torment of extreme heat or excessive cold, for it was the pleasant spring-tide, and on every side the sweet wind blew in upon them, carrying away the foul air, which must have collected in closed carriages. Twice a day the train was stopped for necessary refreshment, when they could stretch their stiffened and weary limbs. But the families could hold no intercourse with the convicts, who were carefully guarded by the convoy to prevent any attempts at escape. CHAPTER XVIII THE FORWARDING PRISON AT last they reached the forwarding prison, where they had to await the arrival of the convict-barge which was to take them up the Volga. Here the fathers were to join their families, and occupy the family kamera, or ward set apart for those prisoners whose wives had chosen to accompany them into exile. Through filthy corridors, the women and children were conducted to a still more filthy kamera. It was a long and narrow room, with two windows which would not open. No furniture was in it, except two parallel wooden platforms, each about twelve feet wide, raised a few inches in the middle, thus giving to them sloping sides. This was to be their bed, where the whole party was to lie as closely packed as possible, with heads touching one another in the middle, from the opposite slopes. There were no pillows, no mattresses, no bed-clothing of any kind. Russian peasants are a hardy race, not accustomed to comforts, but this absolute bareness filled the women with dismay for themselves and their children. Every limb, every bone, every muscle was aching from their long journey, and these bare planks formed their only resting-place. There was not even a bench for them to sit down upon. Michael found Katerina, the young mother, sobbing bitterly over her baby. "What is the matter, Katerina?" he asked pityingly. "Look at it!" she cried, putting the baby in his arms. "I haven't been able to wash it for five days. And oh, Michael, it's covered with horrid things, and so am I." The tiny creature's skin was blotched and smeared, and its little face was terribly disfigured. Michael could hardly find voice to comfort Katerina.