I emigrated after the revolution of 1831: I
came back because I could bear a life of exile no longer, and I only
wished to breathe my native air. I came under a false name, for I
could not have come in my own. I confided my secret to a few of my
countrymen, and asked their aid and advice: I had nothing else to ask
or tell them."
[Illustration: CROSSING THE COURTYARD OF THE PRISON.]
The preliminary interrogatories concluded, he was sent for a more
rigid examination to the fortress of Kiow. He left Kamenitz early in
January at midnight, under an escort of soldiers and police. The town
was dark and silent as they passed through the deserted streets, but
he saw lights in the upper windows of several houses whose inmates had
been implicated in his accusation. Was it a mute farewell or the sign
of vigils of anguish? They traveled all night and part of the next
day: their first halt was at a great state prison, where Piotrowski
was for the first time shut up in a cell. He was suffering from the
excitement through which he had been passing, from the furious speed
of the journey, which had been also very rough, and from a slight
concussion of the brain occasioned by one of the terrible jolts of the
rude vehicle: a physician saw him and ordered repose. The long, dark,
still hours of the night were gradually calming his nerves when he was
disturbed by a distant sound, which he soon guessed to be the clanking
of chains, followed by a chant in which many voices mingled.
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