The following day we arrived in Berlin, where I was at once taken to prison. Which prison it was I do not know, but I remember what a gloomy impression it produced upon me. The dark cell, (into which no direct light could penetrate owing to the high wall opposite the window,) and the sour-faced warders, who never seemed to look one straight in the eyes, forced on me the thought that people who were compelled to inhabit this place for long were much to be pitied. I have made acquaintance with many prisons, both in Russia and Western Europe, but never felt so thoroughly despondent as in this Berlin gaol. Everything seemed intended to make one feel: “You are in Berlin, the capital of military Prussia, where inflexible rule and iron discipline are the watchwords applying to the smallest detail.” The policemen who had brought me from Frankfort never left me alone even in my prison cell, keeping watch over me by turns. And I must say that I was glad of this. Their company was not exactly enlivening, but the presence of another human being mitigated the dreariness of the prison atmosphere. Fortunately I was not detained here long, and I was truly thankful when evening came, and I was once more on my travels, attended by the same escort. Next morning we were in Russia. The frontier station where I was to be delivered over to the Russian authorities is called Granitza, a place where three empires meet—Germany, Austria, and Russia. As I was to be taken straight on to Petersburg, this was a very roundabout way to have come, and I suppose it must have been chosen from fear of a rescue being attempted at the frontier. This is the more likely, as shortly before the Polish Socialist, Stanislas Mendelssohn, had—aided by his friends—escaped from the Prussian police at another frontier station (Alexandrovo, I think), just as his surrender to the Russians was to be effected. He got safe through to Switzerland. I remember my sensations well. It was a lovely May morning, and the sunshine gave me renewed strength. I had scarcely descended from the train with my German guards, when I was surrounded by a crowd of Russian gendarmes. “Good morning, Deutsch! good morning, sir! Here you are at last! We have been expecting you for ever so long!” were their greetings. I saw round me the fresh, smiling faces of young Russian peasant lads, surmounting the hated dark blue uniform. Their free, familiar bearing made me smile back at them as if old friends were welcoming me. “How do you know me?” I asked them, as we went towards the gendarmes’ quarters.