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:

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