But it was not only uncertainty as to my own fate that worked on my spirits: anxiety about my friends, and about the further development of our “League for the Emancipation of Labour” troubled me. Our organisation was only in its infancy; we were but a small band, and our means scanty. In coming to Germany for the despatch of our first output over the Russian border, I had planned at the same time to arrange for future transport. On this account I had many duties to discharge, regarding not only money matters, but organisation. I had also left behind me in Switzerland much business that called for my return as soon as possible. All my comrades had their hands full; time was precious to them all. And now not only was I sitting here in prison, condemned to inaction, but all the other members of our League were occupied with my affairs, and waiting about to see how they could help me. The consciousness of this check to our work, and of being its involuntary cause, oppressed me, and raised my impatience to the highest pitch. My state can easily be pictured if one imagines a man who has an important and urgent affair to manage, and who suddenly breaks his leg, so that instead of pressing on to the goal he must lie inert on a sick-bed. But in that pitiable state he would be preoccupied with his physical suffering; and I, being free from pain, was given over entirely to worry and distress of mind. The conditions of prison life left much to be desired. At first, particularly, I found them hard to bear, till by degrees I accustomed myself to German regulations. As I have already said, the cells were not lighted at night, and there was nothing for a prisoner to do but to sleep away the long hours of darkness, if he could. I afterwards learned that light was denied for fear of fire, and on the same ground smoking was forbidden. What there was to burn I could not imagine; for, except the doors, the window-frames, and the floors, there was no wood, the building being of massive stone.[14] Footnote 14: During my stay in Siberia, later, this fear of fire in the German prison was often brought to my mind. Thousands of prisoners, condemned to exile or to penal servitude, are there confined in wooden barracks, serving alike as prisons and as halting-places for convoys of exiles on the march. These buildings are always lighted, and the prisoners smoke quite calmly, without anyone thinking of danger from fire. The irksomeness of the long evenings without light, and the prohibition of smoking, must for many people be not only a discomfort, but a hard penance. Yet there should have been no question of punishment in this prison, as only accused persons awaiting trial were detained there.