groundless; my enemies did not cross the
frontier.

I arrived at Konigsberg, on the twenty-seventh
of July, and seeing a steamer in the harbour
which was to start for Elbing on the morrow, I
determined to wait for its departure, and take
that cheap mode of conveyance. I spent the day
in wandering through the streets, and, as evening
drew in, sat down on a heap of stones, intending
to pass the night in the corn fields; but I was
so fatigued that I fell asleep on the spot. My
slumbers were rudely broken by a watchman
(nachtwachter), who shook me by the arm,
wanting to know who I was, and where I came
from? Half-stupified by sleep, and taken quite
by surprise, I answered in bad German, in a
manner by no means satisfactory to the inquirer,
who called to his comrades for help, seized me and
conducted me to the nearest military post. My
first feeling was not so much despair as shame,
to think that I had been able to escape from the
Katorga, cross the Ural mountains, bury myself
for weeks in snow, endure so many privations,
and after all be arrested by a Prussian watchman!

At ten o'clock next morning I was taken to
the police office, where I was closely interrogated.
I said I was a French cotton spinner,
and gave my place of residence both in
Paris and St. Petersburg, but I was not
believed; they took me for a criminal who had
been guilty of some great offence, and I was
seat to the Blauer Thurm (the "Blue Tower,")
the common prison. In rain I required to be
sent back to France where, I said, I would answer
any charge that would be brought against me;
a month went by, before I was again examined,
and then they told me that, having in the mean
time made every necessary inquiry, they had
discovered that the addresses I gave were false, and
so my conduct excited the gravest suspicions.
Tired of feigning any longer, I asked to speak
privately to one of the principal officials, in the
presence of M. Fleury, a naturalized Frenchman,
the sworn interpreter of the office. When left
alone with these two, I frankly told them who I
was, and placed my fate in their hands. It
would be impossible to describe their astonishment
and consternation on finding that they had
before them a political Polish prisoner, escaped
from the Katorga and returning from Siberia.
At first, the police officer could not speak, but
when he found his voice he cried: "Unhappy
man! Do you not know that we must give you
up. The convention is formal. What in the
world made you come here?" "Why" I
asked in my turn, "did you not send me as I
desired, to Paris?" They made me enter into
all the details of my escape, and having listened
to them the Prussian functionary went out,
leaving me alone with M. Fleury, who said:
"They cannot avoid giving you up to the
Russians: the thing has been done in several
recent instances. You have only one chance
of safety. Try to see Count Eulenberg, or at
any rate write to him. He is president of the
regency (Regierungs Präsident) and all depends
on him. He is a good-hearted generous man,
write to him without a moment's loss of time!"
As soon as I was taken back to prison I followed
this advice, and wrote also to the Abbe Kajsiewicz,
in Paris, to furnish a poof of my identity,
for I learnt that I was suspected of being an
emissary who had taken part in the affairs of Posen,
where a Polish conspiracy had lately been
discovered. Ten days elapsed, during which I
was better treated than before; then I
received a polite but vague letter from Count
Eulenberg, in which, however, he recommended
me to have patience. All this investigation
turned on one point: had I participated in
the conspiracies of Posen or not? On that
head I was perfectly at ease, but still my
anguish was great, and more than once the
thought of suicide entered my mind. At last
there came one day to the prison a certain M.
Kamke, an incumbent of Königsberg, who
wished to know if I were willing to accept him
for my bail. Astonished and moved by this
unexpected offer, I asked the reason why he made
it, and then learnt that the news of the arrest
of a Pole who had escaped from Siberia had
caused a great sensation in the city, and that
some of the principal inhabitants had taken up
the question, and hoped to obtain my liberty by
offering security for my appearance. The police
held out for a time, but, finally, on the first of
September, I was once more brought before the
police, where I met the excellent M. Kamke
who, embracing me affectionately, told me I was
free: a declaration which the functionary
confirmed.

I was asked if I were willing to remain
for a time in Königsberg, and at once replied in
the affirmative. M. Kamke took me home with
him, and I passed a week of happiness in the
bosom of his family which, as long as I live, I
shall never forget. I was then again summoned
to the police office, and told with expressions of
kindness and regret that an order had been
received from Berlin to deliver me up to Russia,
and that nothing now was left in their power
but to give me time to get away from Königsberg
at my own risk, but they trusted God would
protect me. I was profoundly touched by this
generous, proceeding, and said I would do all in
my power to prevent causing them annoyance.
I immediately informed M. Kamke of this new
incident, and a plan of escape was organised.
I took leave of my kind friends, and on the
ninth of September I was already on the road
to Dantzic, provided with letters for various
persons in that town, and in others through
which I should afterwards pass. Thanks to this
assistance, I traversed the whole of Germany,
and on the 22nd of September, 1846, I once
more found myself a free man in the streets of
Paris.