In the capacity of secretary to the Commission which had been appointed, he had large means placed at his disposal. Therefore, continually complaining of fatigue, of a mass of occupations, and even of pains in his spine, he lingered over the evidence, brought forward a multitude of facts, began a long correspondence about her affairs, and in general led the good-natured Galitzin by the nose, and on the savings made from the money allotted for the keep of the captive managed to buy a nice little house in the courtyard already belonging to him in the Gorokhoviya.[39] In the interval, the false testament found among the papers of Tarakanova was shown to her. “Well, what have you to say to that?” asked Galitzin. “I swear by the Almighty God, by eternal damnation, that I am the author of none of those unfortunate papers. I was told all that.” “But they are in your own handwriting.” “Perhaps--it interested me.” “Then you do not wish to confess to anything, or explain the truth?” “I’ve nothing to confess. I lived in freedom, I did harm to no one. I was betrayed, made prisoner by treason.” Galitzin began to lose patience. “What a she-devil they’ve handed over to me!” thought he. “Extract a secret from a stone like that!” The prince groaned aloud and rubbed his nose. “But, your Grace, recollect,” once whispered the officious Oushakoff, “your hands are unfettered. In the last ukase it makes mention of the utmost severity, of investigation without partiality.” “Well, of course, one might try,” muttered the bewildered prince, who was in general averse to any severe measure. “Shall I try? It won’t be worse than it is.” “In the name of the empress,” severely said the field-marshal to the commandant, in the presence of the captive, “in view of her obstinacy--deprive her of everything, except the strictly necessary clothing and bedding. You hear, everything--books, and other things, there; and then, if that does not answer, put her on common prison food.” The orders of the prince were carried out. The poor, ailing girl, brought up in luxury and comfort, began to receive nothing but black bread, soldier’s _kasha_ (porridge), and _schi_ (sour cabbage soup). Although hungry, she would sit for hours shedding bitter tears over the wooden bowl, but not touching it. On the way to Russia, near the shores of Holland, where the squadron had anchored to take in provisions, she had read in a newspaper, which had fallen by accident into her cabin, all the past life of Orloff, and trembling with passion, she had cursed her folly in having believed in such a man. But worse misery awaited her. Two soldiers were assigned to the captive, and kept watch in her room, night and day. All this would throw the prisoner into fits of passion. “Repent,” Galitzin would say to her. “I pity you from my heart, but without repentance, don’t expect forgiveness.”