The mental depression into which I now fell was soon accompanied by physical discomfort. The fetters at first caused me intolerable pain in walking, and even disturbed my sleep. It also requires considerable practice before one can easily manage to dress and undress. The heavy chains—about 13 lbs. in weight—are not only an encumbrance, but are very painful, as they chafe the skin round the ankles; and the leather lining is but little protection to those unaccustomed to these adornments. Another great torment is the continual clinking of the chains. It is indescribably irritating to the nervous, and reminds the prisoner at every turn that he is a pariah among his kind, “deprived of all rights.” The transformation is completed by the peculiar convict dress, consisting—besides the coarse linen underclothing—of a grey gown made of special material, and a pair of trousers. Prisoners condemned to hard labour wear a square piece of yellow cloth sewn on their gowns. The feet are clad in leathern slippers nicknamed “cats.” All these articles of clothing are inconvenient, heavy, and ill-fitting. I hardly knew myself when I looked in the glass and beheld a fully attired convict. The thought possessed me—“For long years you will have to go about in that hideous disguise.” Even the gendarme regarded me with compassion. “What won’t they do to a man?” he said. And I could only try to comfort myself by thinking how many unpleasant things one gets used to, and that time might perhaps accustom one even to this. My own clothes I gave away to the warders, and any possessions of value—watch, ring, cigarette-case—I sent by post to relations. I kept only my books. I had been given a bag in which to keep a change of linen; and into it I also put a few volumes of Shakespeare, Goethe, Heine, Molière, and Rousseau, thus completing my preparations for travelling. [Illustration: PRISONERS MARCHING THROUGH THE STREETS OF ODESSA To face page 96 ] Evening came. The officer in command of the convoy appeared in the prison courtyard with his men and took the party in charge. I was conducted to the office. A _statyehny spìsok_[41] is prepared for each individual convict, in which his name and place of exile are entered, and also a list of the exciseable things he takes with him. In the _statyehny spìsok_ of each political prisoner his photograph is pasted, and in mine there were two. Footnote 41: Literally “a list of particulars.”—_Trans._ The officer carefully went through all these _dossiers_. We were then arranged in processional order. The soldiers surrounded us; the officer lifted his cap and crossed himself. “A pleasant journey! Good-bye!” called out the prison officials. “Thanks. Good-bye!” cried the officer. He then gave the signal to start, and off we marched at a slow pace to the station.