FiveyearslaterIampacingthecourtyardoftheMetechskiPrisoninTiflis，and，asIdoso，tryingtoimagineforwhatparticularoffenceIhavebeenincarceratedinthatplaceofconfinement。
Picturesquelygrimwithout，theinstitutionis，inwardly，peopledwithasetofcheerful，butclumsy，humourists。Thatistosay，itwouldseemasthough，“byorderoftheauthorities，“theinmatesarepresentingastagespectacleinwhichtheyareplaying，willinglyandzealously，butwithacompletelackofexperience，imperfectlycomprehendedrolesasprisoners，warders，andgendarmes。
Forinstance，today，whenawarderandagendarmecametomycelltoescortmetoexercise，andIsaidtothem，“MayIbeexcusedexercisetoday？Iamnotverywell，anddonotfeellike，etcetera，etcetera，“thegendarme，atall，handsomemanwitharedbeard，helduptomeawarningfinger。
“NOONE，“hesaid，“hasgivenyoupermissiontofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。“
Towhichthewarder，amanasdarkasachimney-sweep，withlargeblue“whites“tohiseyes，addedstutteringly:
“Tonooneherehaspermissionbeengiventofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。Youhearthat？“
SotoexerciseIwent。
Inthisstone-pavedyardtheairisashotasinanoven，foroverheadthereloursonlyasmall，flatpatchofdull，drab-
tintedsky，andonthreesidesoftheyardrisehighgreywalls，with，onthefourth，theentrance-gates，toppedbyasortoflook-outpost。
OvertheroofofthebuildingtherecomesfloatingthedullroaroftheturbulentriverKura，mingledwithshoutsfromthehuckstersoftheAvlabarBazaarthetown’sAsiaticquarterandasacrossmotifthrownintothesesounds，thesighingofthewindandthecooingofdoves。Infact，tobehereislikebeinginadrumwhichamyriaddrumsticksarebeating。
Throughthebarsofthedoublelineofwindowsonthesecondandthethirdstoriespeerthemurkyfacesandtowsledheadsofsomeoftheinmates。Oneofthelatterspitshisfurthestintotheyard——evidentlywiththeintentionofhittingmyself:butallhiseffortsprovevain。Anotheroneshoutswithamordantexpletive:
“Hi，you！Whydoyoukeeptrampingupanddownlikeanoldhen？
Holdupyourhead！“
Meanwhiletheinmatescontinuetointoneinconcertastrangechantwhichisastangledasaskeinofwoolafterservingasaplaythingforakitten’sprolongedgameofsport。Sadlythechantmeanders，wavers，toahigh，wailingnote。Then，asitwere，itsoarsyethighertowardsthedull，murkysky，breakssuddenlyintoasnarl，and，growlinglikeawildbeastinterror，diesawaytogiveplacetoarefrainwhichcoils，tricklesforthfrombetweenthebarsofthewindowsuntilithaspermeatedthefree，torridair。
AsIlistentothatrefrain，longfamiliartome，itseemstovoicesomethingintelligible，andagitatesmysoulalmosttoasenseofagony……
Presently，whilepacingupanddownintheshadowofthebuilding，Ihappentoglancetowardsthelineofwindows。Gluedtotheframeworkofoneoftheironwindow-squares，Icandiscernablue-eyedface。Overgrownwithanuntidysablebearditis，aswellasstampedwithalookofperpetuallygrievedsurprise。
“ThatmustbeKonev，“Isaytomyselfaloud。
Konevitis——Konevofthewell-rememberedeyes。Evenatthismomenttheyareregardingmewithpuckeredattention。
Ithrowaroundmeahastyglance。Myownwarderisdozingonashadybenchneartheentrance。Twomorewardersareengagedinthrowingdice。Afourthissuperintendingthepumpingofwaterbytwoconvicts，andsuperciliouslymarkingtimefortheirleverwiththeformula，“Mashkam，dashkam！Dashkam，mashkam！“
Imovetowardsthewall。
“Isthatyou，Konev？“ismyinquiry。
“Itis，“hemuttersashethrustshisheadalittlefurtherthroughthegrating。“Yes，KonevIam，butwhoyouareIhavenotanotion。“
“Whatareyouherefor？“
“Foramatterofbasecoin，though，tobetruthful，Iamhereaccidentally，withoutgenuinecause。“
Thewarderrouseshimself，and，withhiskeysjinglinglikeasetoffetters，uttersdrowsilythecommand:
“Donotstandstill。Also，movefurtherfromthewall。Toapproachitisforbidden。“
“Butitissohotinthemiddleoftheyard，sir！“
“Everywhereitishot，“retortsthemanreprovingly，andhisheadsubsidesagain。Fromabovecomesthewhisperedquery:
“WhoAREyou？“
“Well，doyourememberTatiana，thewomanfromRiazan？“
“DOIrememberher？“Konev’svoicehasinitatouchofsubduedresentment。“DOIrememberher？Why，Iwastriedincourttogetherwithher！“
“TogetherwithHER？Wasshetoosentencedforthepassingofbasecoin？“
“Yes。Whyshouldshenothavebeen？Shewasmerelythevictimofanaccident，evenasIwas。“
AsIresumemywalkinthestiflingshadeIdetectthat，fromthewindowsofthebasementthereisissuingasmellof，inequalparts，rottenleather，mouldygrain，anddampness。TomymindthererecurTatiana’swords:“Amidagreatsorrowevenasmalljoybecomesagreatfelicity，“and，“Ishouldliketobuildavillageonsomelandofmyown，andcreateformyselfanewandbetterlife。“
AndtomyrecollectionthererecuralsoTatiana’sfaceandyearning，hungrybreast。AsIstandthinkingofthesethings，therecomedroppingontomyheadfromabovethelow-spoken，ashen-greywords:
“Thechiefconspiratorinthematterwasherlover，thesonofapriest。Heitwaswhoengineeredtheplot。Hehasbeensentencedtotenyearspenalservitude。“
“Andshe？“
“TatianaVasilievna？Tothesame，andIalso。IleaveforSiberiathedayaftertomorrow。ThetrialwasheldatKutair。InRussiaIshouldhavegotoffwithalightersentencethanhere，forthefolkinthesepartsare，oneandall，evil，barbaricscoundrels。“
“AndTatiana，hassheanychildren？“
“Howcouldshehavewhilelivingsucharoughlifeasthis？Ofcoursenot！Besides，thepriest’ssonisaconsumptive。“
“IndeedsorryforheramI！“
“SoIexpect。“AndinKonev’stonetherewouldseemtobeatouchofmeaning。“Thewomanwasafool——ofthattherecanbenodoubt；butalsoshewascomely，aswellasapersonoutofthecommoninherpityforfolk。“
“Wasitthenthatyoufoundheragain？“
“When？“
“OnthatFeastoftheAssumption？“
“Ohno。ItwasonlyduringthefollowingwinterthatIcameupwithher。AtthetimeshewasservingasgovernesstothechildrenofanoldofficerinBatumwhosewifehadlefthim。“
Somethingsnapsbehindme——somethingsoundinglikethehammerofarevolver。However，itisonlythewarderclosingthelidofhishugewatchbeforerestoringthewatchtohispocket，givinghimselfastretch，andyawningtotheutmostextentofhisjaws。
“Yousee，shehadmoney，and，butforherrestlessness，mighthavelivedacomfortablelifeenough。Asitwas，herrestlessness——“
“Timeforexerciseisup！“shoutsthewarder。
“Whoareyou？“addsKonevhastily。“SomehowIseemtorememberyourface；but1cannotplaceit。“
YetsostungamIwithwhatIhaveheardthatImoveawayinsilence:savethatjustasIreachthetopofthestepsIturntocry:
“Goodbye，mate，andgivehermygreeting。“
“Whatareyoubawlingfor？“blustersthewarder……
Thecorridorisdim，andfilledwithanoppressiveodour。Thewarderswingshiskeyswithadry，thinclash，andI，todullthepaininmyheart，strivetoimitatehim。Buttheattemptprovesfutile；andasthewarderopensthedoorofmycellhesaysseverely:
“Inwithyou，ten-yearsman！“
Entering，Imovetowardsthewindow。BetweensomegreyspikesonawallIcanjustdiscerntheboisterouscurrentoftheKura，withsakli[warehouses]andhousesgluedtotheoppositebank，andthefiguresofsomeworkmenontheroofofatanningshed。
Below，withhiscappushedtothebackofhishead，asentryispacingbackwardsandforwards。
WearilymymindrecallsthemanyscoresofRussianfolkwhomithasseenperishtonopurpose。Andasitdoessoitfeelscrushed，asinavice，beneaththeburdenofgreatandinexorablesorrowwithwhichalllifeisdowered。
INAMOUNTAINDEFILE
InamountaindefilenearalittletributaryoftheSunzha，therewasbeingbuiltaworkman’sbarraque——alow，longedificewhichremindedoneofalargecoffinlid。
Thebuildingwasapproachingcompletion，and，meanwhile，ascoreofcarpenterswereemployedinfashioningthinplanksintodoorsofequalthinness，knockingtogetherbenchesandtables，andfittingwindow-framesintothesmallwindow-squares。
Also，toassistthesecarpentersinthetaskofprotectingthebarraquefromtribesmen’snocturnalraids，theshrill-voicedyoungstudentofcivilengineeringwhohadbeensetinchargeoftheworkhadsenttotheplace，aswatchman，anex-soldiernamedPaulIvanovitch，amanoftheCossacktype，andmyself。