In this prison conditions were very much like those in the Fortress of Peter and Paul: rather large, dark cells, tolerably good food, the same strict, formal bearing of the gendarmes, and the same all-pervading silence. In order at once to draw attention to the stipulations of the extradition treaty, I expressed my astonishment at being again put into a prison for “politicals.” Whether on account of this protest or because of an order from Petersburg I do not know, but after a few days I was removed to the prison for ordinary criminals. It was evening, an evening that I shall never forget. They put me into a cell, and when the door closed behind me I could at first see nothing, the cell was so dark, and only the feeble rays of a lamp shone through a little window in the door. When my eyes had begun to accustom themselves to the dimness I set to work to take stock of my quarters. The cell was circular, and contained no bed, chair, nor table; only the customary wooden tub, a water-bucket, also of wood, and some straw on the floor—nothing else. I was much surprised, and thought there must have been some mistake. I went to the door, and saw through the peephole that two armed soldiers were on guard, while on a bench close by sat a gendarme and a policeman. I had been in many prisons, but this state of things was new to me. “Look here! What is all this? Where are the bedstead and mattress?” I asked, sticking my head through the little window. “Don’t know,” said the gendarme briefly. “Then call the governor!” He did not stir, but after a while the deputy-governor appeared. “Will you tell me what this means?” I said, indicating the state of the cell. “I know nothing about it,” replied he. “We have simply followed instructions. You must apply to the Deputy Public Prosecutor, who will be here to-morrow.” I felt horribly cast down. “What shall I do if they refuse to improve things?” I thought, sitting down in the straw with my head in my hands. Soon fatigue overpowered me, and I lay down; but hardly had I gone to sleep when I sprang up broad awake—mice were scratching and burrowing in the straw! I paced up and down the tiny cell, feeling how stifling the atmosphere was. The tub stank vilely; the space outside where the four watchers were was small, and only used-up air penetrated thence into the cell. I wished I could effect some ventilation, but the window was high up and could not be opened. I awaited the day with impatience, hoping I should at least be able to breathe some fresh air. Wearily the hours dragged along; sometimes I had to lie down for a moment’s rest, but only to spring up again because of the mice. At last day dawned. “Take me to the air!” I cried to the gendarme, who seemed here to act as warder. “I have no orders to do so,” was his reply. Towards midday the Deputy Public Prosecutor arrived. I explained to him the horrible conditions to which I had been subjected, and demanded redress.