Part 19 (2/2)
The hours at work help to dull the acute consciousness of e of experiincreased effort and more sedulous application
The shop routine now de or brooding My physical condition alar hours completely exhaustto the cell-house for the noonheavily, and I experience great difficulty in rown indifferent to the meals; the odor of food nauseates ht of a striped prisoner disgusts es ainst my disrespectful and surly manner But I am indifferent to consequences: what th is a source of satisfaction: perhaps it indicates the approach of death The thought pleases , no anguish The world at large is non-existent; it is centered in Me; and yet I radual peace and quiet, into extinction
Back inmeal of bread and coffee untouched My candle re dusk, conscious only of the longing to hear the gong's deep bass,--the three bells tolling the order to retire I welcome the blessed permission to fall into bed The coarse straw ly; I yearn for sleep, for oblivion
Occasionalis brief: the tone of the letter is guarded, their contents too general in character, theThe world and its proble from my horizon I am cast into the darkness No ray of sunshi+ne holds out the pro
At times the realization of my fate is borne in upon ulfed in despair, now threatening to break down the barriers of sanity, now affording melancholy satisfaction in the wild play of fancy Existence grows more and more unbearable with the contrast of dream and reality Weary of the day's routine, I welco of the passing convict I shrink froray and black constantly reviving the i They are not of _my_ world
I would aid them, as in duty bound to the victims of social injustice
But I cannot be friends with the to the People, to whose service my life is consecrated Unfortunates, indeed; yet parasites upon the producers, less in degree, but no less in kind than the rich exploiters By virtue of ive them my intellectual syie seeentle note about hisfor his presence, yet he seldo church service, when I remain in the cell Perhaps I may see him to-day
He alleries, counting the church delinquents[23] The Captain is passing on the range now I recognize the uncertain step, instantly ready to halt at the sight of a face behind the bars Now he is at the cell He pencils in his note-book the number on the wooden block over the door, A 7
[23] In Protestant service, and _vice versa_
”Catholic?” he asks,up, he frowns on me
”You're no Catholic, Berkman What d'you stay in for?”
”I am an atheist”
”A what?”
”An atheist, a non-believer”
”Oh, an infidel, are you? You'll be dah”
The wooden stairs creak beneath the officer's weight He has turned the corner Wingie will take advantage now I hope he will co--
”hello, Aleck! Want a piece of pie? Here, grab it!”
”Pie, Wingie?” I whisper wonderingly ”Where do you get such luxuries?”
”Swiped from the screw's poke, Cornbread Touy saved it after breakfast Rotten, ain't he?”
”Why so?”
”Why, you greenie, he's a stomach robber, that's what he is It's _our_ pie, Aleck, made here in the bakery That's why our punk is stale, see; they steals the east[24] to rub, anyhow?”