“Oh yes; we have met in Petersburg,” answered Nabòkov in an agreeable tone, as if recalling a meeting in some elegant drawing-room instead of in a prison. He then turned to me, to tell me that he had received my petition, and had “reported to His Majesty”; but the Tsar had pronounced that as a former member of the army I must go before a court-martial, and therefore that had been the only course. The manner in which I was lodged seemed to strike the minister unpleasantly, for he looked round my cell, and asked if I were properly treated and had no complaints to make. I now learned that my transference to Moscow was decided on; that I was to winter there, and remain until the journey to Siberia was possible. The way in which the minister had spoken to me seemed to have made a powerful impression on the prison authorities; for scarcely had “His Excellency” left the place than the governor hastened to my cell, and took me to one much more comfortable, where were a good bed, a table, and a chair. “A report has been made to His Majesty himself about you!” I was therefore a person of consequence, and the governor’s official soul was troubled. I was offered books from a lending library, and was henceforth treated with marked civility. Of course, I knew that this alteration really proceeded from orders given by the three functionaries spoken of in a previous chapter, who had been the cause of my former ill-treatment. This is a striking example of the arbitrary way in which prisoners are used. I had not much longer to enjoy these marks of favour. A fortnight later I was informed that a party of convicts would start for Moscow that evening. I was to accompany them, and accordingly must assume the convict garb. After eighteen years I think of that day with a shudder. First of all, I was taken into a room where was stored everything necessary to the equipment of a convict under sentence. On the floor lay piles of chains; and clothes, boots, etc., were heaped on shelves. From among them some were selected that were supposed to fit me; and I was then conducted to a second room. Here the right side of my head was shaved, and the hair on the left side cut short. I had seen people in the prison who had been treated in this fashion, and the sight had always made a painful impression on me, as indeed it does on everyone. But when I saw my own face in the glass a cold shudder ran down my spine, and I experienced a sensation of personal degradation to something less than human. I thought of the days—in Russia not so long ago—when criminals were branded with hot irons. A convict was waiting ready to fasten on my fetters. I was placed on a stool, and had to put my foot on an anvil. The blacksmith fitted an iron ring round each ankle, and welded it together. Every stroke of the hammer made my heart sink, as I realised that a new existence was beginning for me.