Chapter XI: The Route Sub Rosa

March 4, 1893.

GIRL AND TWIN:

I am writing with despair in my heart. I was taken to Pittsburgh
as a witness in the trial of Nold and Bauer. I had hoped for an
opportunity--you understand, friends. It was a slender thread,
but I clung to it desperately, prepared to stake everything on
it. It proved a broken straw. Now I am back, and I may never
leave this place alive.

I was bitterly disappointed not to find you in the courtroom. I
yearned for the sight of your faces. But you were not there, nor
any one else of our New York comrades. I knew what it meant: you
are having a hard struggle to exist. Otherwise perhaps something
could be done to establish friendly relations between Rakhmetov
and Mr. Gebop.[34] It would require an outlay beyond the
resources of our own circle; others cannot be approached in this
matter. Nothing remains but the "inside" developments,--a
terribly slow process.

This is all the hope I can hold out to you, dear friends. You
will think it quite negligible; yet it is the sole ray that has
again and again kindled life in moments of utmost darkness.... I
did not realize the physical effects of my stay here (it is five
months now) till my return from court. I suppose the excitement
of being on the outside galvanized me for the nonce.... My head
was awhirl; I could not collect my thoughts. The wild hope
possessed me,--_pobeg_! The click of the steel, as I was
handcuffed to the Deputy, struck my death-knell.... The
unaccustomed noise of the streets, the people and loud voices in
the courtroom, the scenes of the trial, all absorbed me in the
moment. It seemed to me as if I were a spectator, interested,
but personally unconcerned, in the surroundings; and these,
too, were far away, of a strange world in which I had no part.
Only when I found myself alone in the cell, the full
significance of the lost occasion was borne in upon me with
crushing force.

But why sadden you? There is perhaps a cheerier side, now that
Nold and Bauer are here. I have not seen them yet, but their
very presence, the circumstance that somewhere within these
walls there are _comrades_, men who, like myself, suffer for an
ideal--the thought holds a deep satisfaction for me. It brings
me closer, in a measure, to the environment of political
prisoners in Europe. Whatever the misery and torture of their
daily existence, the politicals--even in Siberia--breathe the
atmosphere of solidarity, of appreciation. What courage and
strength there must be for them in the inspiration radiated by a
common cause! Conditions here are entirely different. Both
inmates and officers are at loss to "class" me. They have never
known political prisoners. That one should sacrifice or risk his
life with no apparent personal motives, is beyond their
comprehension, almost beyond their belief. It is a desert of
sordidness that constantly threatens to engulf one. I would
gladly exchange places with our comrades in Siberia.

The former _podpoilnaya_[35] was suspended, because of the great
misfortune that befell my friend Wingie, of whom I wrote to you
before. This dove will be flown by Mr. Tiuremshchick,[36] an old
soldier who really sympathizes with Wingie. I believe they
served in the same regiment. He is a kindly man, who hates his
despicable work. But there is a family at home, a sick wife--you
know the old, weak-kneed tale. I had a hint from him the other
day: he is being spied upon; it is dangerous for him to be seen
at my cell, and so forth. It is all quite true; but what he
means is, that a little money would be welcome. You know how to
manage the matter. Leave no traces.

I hear the felt-soled step. It's the soldier. I bid my birdie a
hasty good-bye.

SASHA.

[34] Reading backward, _pobeg_; Russian for "escape."

[35] _Sub rosa_ route.

[36] Russian for "guard."