On one of the following days I was told there was someone to see me. No sooner had I crossed the threshold of the visitors’ room than a young lady threw herself, laughing and weeping, into my arms. It was Frau Bulìgin. As I was in prison under her husband’s name, she had now come to play the part of my wife; and so well did she play it as even to soften the heart of the Public Prosecutor, who witnessed this moving scene of meeting between such a young and loving pair. He left us alone for a moment, and only when the first emotional greetings were over did he warn us that we must speak German; but his tone was less stern and dry than at my first encounter with him, when Frau Axelrod was there. Frau Bulìgin had at once whispered to me that I must somehow contrive that we should speak Russian, as she had important things to talk about. I therefore begged Herr von Berg to let us speak in our own language. “I cannot,” he said shortly; “you both seem able to speak German quite well enough to understand one another.” “You must allow,” said I, “that however well a man speaks a foreign tongue, when he meets his wife after weeks of imprisonment and in circumstances like mine, he wants to speak freely. We cannot talk of family affairs in German. But,” I continued, “if you insist about this, though I cannot understand by what law nor for what reason, could you not let Professor Thun be present as he would understand all we said in Russian?” After some further demur he at last relented so far as to say that though he would not request Professor Thun’s attendance himself, not being in any way bound to do so, yet if the professor chose to do us such a favour, we might then be permitted to speak Russian. Of course I would not betray my relations with Professor Thun, so I carefully inquired his address, that my wife might take him a message. “Your wife shall be given it in my office,” said Herr von Berg. So he and Frau Bulìgin departed, and I was taken back to my cell.