He listened to me, but assured me he could do nothing whatever. “But tell me what hinders you from giving me a bedstead?” “You could climb up to the window and try to escape.” “Excuse me,” said I, “do consider what you say. Four men are watching me; even if I stood on the bed I could not reach the window without their seeing me. This is the fifth floor, and a sentry goes backwards and forwards below the window; if I could pass him I should next have to climb over a wall as high as a house, on the further side of which another sentry is posted! Surely you must see,” I urged, “that under these circumstances any attempt at flight is out of the question.” “Who can tell? You have often got away before.” “Only twice,” I corrected. “Well, that’s quite enough,” said he. “I can’t do anything for you.” And he went away. I had already made up my mind what to do now. On no account would I put up with this treatment, but would maintain a passive resistance. The gendarme brought my food in a wooden vessel and placed it on the floor. “Take it away! I shall not eat anything,” I said. He took it up again and withdrew in silence. This was repeated every day at meal-times. The hours dragged on. I could get no fresh air, could not read, as they would give me no books, could not even sleep for the mice. I did not feel any great craving for food, but drank water continually. In mind I suffered frightfully, not that I felt any anger against these people, but I was irritated beyond measure at the utter senselessness of such treatment. “You will have time enough,” I apostrophised the staff, “to poison life for me after I am once sentenced; but for the present I am only on trial.” For three days I went without food, and nobody seemed to trouble themselves about it, though, of course, the attendants knew what was going on. On the afternoon of the fourth day I was taken to the office. Unwashed (I had purposely abstained from washing ever since my arrival), my clothes covered with dust and bits of straw, I appeared before the Public Prosecutor of Odessa and the examining magistrate. They informed me they were there for the preliminary inquiry into my case, and would take my evidence. I told them I was in no condition to answer questions, and set forth my grievances, saying that I intended to starve myself as a protest. “Oh, you refuse to take your food? Well, then, we shall have to feed you by artificial means.”[33] Footnote 33: Not long before this some political prisoners had got up a “hunger-strike” as a protest against unjust treatment; and the authorities becoming alarmed at their condition of weakness, the prison doctor, Dr. Rosen, had forcibly administered nourishment by means of the enema.