The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in SiberiaDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in Siberia
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Exiles -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
When the key was heard grinding in the padlock which closed the gate, it
was too late to put the lights out and lie down on the plank bedsteads.
Such surprises were, however, rare. Five kopecks was a ridiculous
payment even in our convict prison, and the exigency and hardness of the
gamblers astonished me in this as in many cases: “You are paid, you must
do what you are told.” This was the argument, and it admitted of no
reply. To have paid a few kopecks to any one gave the right to turn him
to the best possible account, and even to claim his gratitude. More than
once it happened to me to see the convicts spend their money
extravagantly, throwing it away on all sides, and, at the same time,
cheat the man employed to watch. I have seen this in several barracks on
many occasions.
I have already said that, with the exception of the gamblers, every one
worked. Five only of the convicts remained completely idle, and went to
bed on the first opportunity. My sleeping place was near the door. Next
to me was Akim Akimitch, and when we were lying down our heads touched.
He used to work until ten or eleven at making, by pasting together
pieces of paper, multicolour lanterns, which some one living in the town
had ordered from him, and for which he used to be well paid. He excelled
in this kind of work, and did it methodically and regularly. When he had
finished he put away carefully his tools, unfolded his mattress, said
his prayers, and went to sleep with the sleep of the just. He carried
his love of order even to pedantry, and must have thought himself in his
inner heart a man of brains, as is generally the case with narrow,
mediocre persons. I did not like him the first day, although he gave me
much to think of. I was astonished that such a man could be found in a
convict prison. I shall speak of Akimitch further on in the course of
this book.
But I must now continue to describe the persons with whom I was to live
a number of years. Those who surrounded me were to be my companions
every minute, and it will be understood that I looked upon them with
anxious curiosity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account