Section 165. RUSSIAN POLITICAL PRISONERS IN BANISHMENT. I.
Reading edition
In the cheerless regions of[1] Arkangel, of which the aborigines say: “God made Russia, but the devil made Arkangel,” there are (S. 82, N. 7) more than two hundred of those banished ones—men and women, all young, all (= and) poor, most[2] of them sent without trial, few[3] amongst them knowing even of what they are accused. Victor Ivanovitch[4] dines with his friend B., for instance, and[5] after a stroll along[6] the boulevards they separate. B. is arrested that[7] very evening, and when Victor, astonished and horror-stricken[8], hastens[9] to inquire the cause, he finds everybody[10], even B.’s own father, as[11] much in the dark as he is himself; all questions and petitions on[12] the subject receive[13] vague administrative answers; all friends and relatives are systematically discouraged and silenced; eagerly they wait for[14] the numerous political trials that[15] come on without intermission, hoping[16] to see the missing one’s (S. 67, N. 3) name on[17] the list of criminals, or to see[18] his face once more, let[19] it be even in[20] the prisoner’s dock; but as[21] they wait and[22] watch, the prisoner[23] is, without any trial, en route for Arkangel.
Arrived[24] there, the routine (App. § 15) is the same for all; whatever[25] the crime alleged, the age or sex, the[26] prisoner is taken to the police-ward,—a[27] dreary log-building, containing two sections, one for men, the other for women. The solitary table and chair in the room, the four walls, and even the ceiling, are covered[28] with the names of[29] youthful predecessors, whose pencilled[30] jests and clever caricatures bear[31] witness to the strength of confidence in themselves with which they began[32] their life in exile.