Part 34 (1/2)

”I want to knohy I am deprived of dinner”

”It is not, hh, hm, hm, that _we_ know,” the Deputy retorts

”Mr McPane,” the Warden interposes, ”I a to speak plainly to him From this day on,” he turns to me, ”you are on 'Pennsylvania diet'

for four weeks During that tiive you leisure to think over your behavior I have investigated your conduct in the shop, and I aated the trouble there You shall not have another chance to incite theas your sentence But,” he pauses an instant, then adds, threateningly, ”but you may as well understand it now as later--your life is not worth the trouble you give us Mark you well, whatever the cost, it will be at _your_ expense For the present you'll remain in solitary, where you cannot exert your pernicious influence Officers, remove him to the 'basket'”

CHAPTER XVII

THE ”BASKET” CELL

Four weeks of ”Pennsylvania diet” have reduced me almost to a skeleton

A slice of wheat bread with a cup of unsweetened black coffee is etable soup, from which every trace of meat has been removed Every Saturday I am conducted to the office, to be exahed The whole week I look forward to the brief respite froht of the stripedthe floor, the friendly sh the hall, the strange blue of the sky, the sweet-scented aro--how quickly it is all over! But the seven deep breaths I slowly inhale on the way to the office, and the eager ten on loith renewed life For an instant my brain reels with the sudden rush of exquisite intoxication, and then--I aain

The torture of the ”basket” ish the close wire netting covering the barred door The foul odor is stifling; it grips my throat with deathly hold The walls hem me in; daily they press closer upon me, till the cell seems to contract, and I feel crushed in the coffin of stone Fro, inexorable, in confident assurance of their prey

The darkness of despondency gathers day by day; the hand of despair weighs heavier At night the screeching of a crow across the river oil in my heart The s in the hallway quake and tremble in the furious wind Bleak and desolate wakes the day--another day, then another--

Weak and apathetic I lie on the bed Ever further recedes the world of the living Still day follows night, and life is in the , but I have no part in the pain and travail Like a spark froloom, and sed in the darkness, I have been cast upon the shores of the forgotten No sound reaches me from the island prison where beats the fervent heart of the Girl, no ray of hope falls across the bars of desolation But on the threshold of Nirvana life recoils; in the very bowels of torment it cries out _to be_!

Persecution feeds the fires of defiance, and nerves my resolution Were I an ordinary prisoner, I should not care to suffer all these agonies

To what purpose, with my impossible sentence? But ainst the varace the Cause, I shall not grieve le, and not be daunted by threat or torture

With difficulty I walk to the office for the weekly weighing My step falters as I approach the scales, and I sway dizzily As through a ainstwhy I did not feel the cold air Perhaps they did not take h the yard--Is it the Block Captain's voice? ”What did you say?”

”Return to your old cell You're on full diet now”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SOLITARY

I

Direct to Box A 7, Allegheny City, Pa, March 25, 1894

DEAR FEDYA:

This letter is somewhat delayed: for certain reasons I missed mail-day last month Prison life, too, has its ups and downs, and just now I a to local affairs; therefore I can tell you only that I a I am to be kept ”locked up” It may be a month, or a year, I hope it will not be the latter