A whole chain of recollections was started in my mind by this occurrence, and I sank deep in thought. The further we went from Moscow, the sadder became my spirits; I felt as if I were leaving behind me there a host of friends I should never see again. I did not want to talk to anyone, but gazed silently out of the window. The line ran through a factory district; the stations were crowded, and along the railway banks we saw many groups of workpeople. Men and women in brightly coloured cotton garments stopped and called out after the train, making expressive gestures. Whether they knew us for exiles on our way to Siberia and meant to send us a message of sympathy I cannot tell. Perhaps it is the custom in that countryside, whence many prisoners are transported, to express in this way that feeling of compassion towards the “children of misfortune”[56] so common among the Russian people. Footnote 56: By this name the common people throughout Russia and Siberia designate all prisoners. On the following morning we arrived at Nijni Novgorod, whence we were to journey by boat to Perm, by the Volga and its tributary the Kama. Our party attracted much attention both at the station and on the way to the quay. The married and betrothed couples walked in front, arm in arm, and the rest of us followed, the escort surrounding us all. Two large cabins, one for the men and one for the women, were assigned to us on the big barge, which was taken in tow by a river steamer. Here we were rather comfortably lodged, and we were all in common allowed free access to the roomy deck, which was enclosed by iron netting at the sides and overhead. Food we provided for ourselves, and on that head had nothing to complain of, thanks to the kindness of our friends and to the provident care of Làzarev, our elected chief or _stàrosta_. The voyage lasted some days; the weather was uninterruptedly fine; and we sat on deck from early morning till late evening, revelling in the charming scenes which passed before our eyes, on this giant among European rivers and on its tributary stream. Especially lovely was it towards sunset, when our choir, which boasted some exceptionally fine voices, would sing our favourite songs. As one sat, with head supported against the iron netting, and eyes following the shining ripples lit by exquisite fairy-like tints, the impression made on one by those beautiful sad songs was never to be forgotten. Gradually the colour would fade from the sky, and the stars shine down from a cloudless heaven, to be mirrored in the glassy surface of the great river; and everything around me—the river, the stars, the songs—would recall to my mind another royal stream, the mighty Dnieper, by whose banks my childhood had been spent. * * * * *