and two years, if they go to a far point, like the
mines of Nertchinsk or the fortress of Akatouia,
in the government of Irkoutsk."

I expressed involuntarily my horror at this
prolongation of a punishment that seemed to
require no aggravation.

"Ah!" replied the professor, "that journey
is intended to be the severest part of the punishment.
Once in Siberia, which is a country with
a climate quite as good as that of St. Petersburg,
the punishments of those who behave well are all
commuted."

There were some thirty or forty men and
women watching the procession, but they
manifested no special interest, or sympathy.
The peasants, in their blue caftans, and their
axes thrust in their belts, seemed to take it as
they take everything, in a dull, fatalist way, and
as a matter of course. They were accustomed
to such scenes. But some hearts must have
beat faster under those leather caftans, for I
observed from time to time a child, with an innocent
smile, run out of the crowd and give
money to the prisoner who held the bag for the
rest.

"But the Poles?" I said, half petulantly, to
Bibikoff, "I don't see them?"

"Ha! it is always the Poles with you English;
wait a bit, and you will see the Poles, never fear,
my dear sir. They come out last of all. They
will not be chained. In the mean time, regard
that poor devil with the bag; he is treasurer for
the rest; let us give him something."

"With all my heart," said I, and put some
roubles into the professor's generous hand,
which already held his own contribution.

Bibikoff stepped forward and handed the
money to the treasurer, a sneaking-looking mechanic,
with a servile submission in every motion
of his body. He was a sort of man who would
be a favourite with the officer commanding the
convoy. A crawling creature, who might be
faithful to his comrades, but who would more
likely become a spy and informer; and whom, for
my own part, I would not have trusted out of
my sight with even a blue rouble note.

The man took the money with that grave
courtesy almost Oriental in its calmness, which
distinguishes the poorest Russian. He bowed,
doffed his hat, glanced on his nearest comrades,
who all seemed making mental notes of a donation
somewhat larger than they had perhaps
looked for. Even the stout thief, who led the
gang of chained men, cast a glance half wistful,
half grateful towards us, as the purser folded
up the greasy note, and placed it carefully in
his canvas haversack.

The plot began to thicken, the soldiers with
fixed bayonets came faster out of the prison,
and placed themselves in closer intervals among
the criminals. The heart of the prison was
evidently beating faster, or the bad blood would
not have been spreading so quickly through its
veins. Presently a low-browed pale little man,
with "tailor" stamped all over him, came clashing
towards us, carrying a bundle wrapped up
in a handkerchief. The master thief welcomed
him with an ironical smile, as much as to say,
"I told you you'd have to come."

And now, all down the ranks, the exiles
began to "make their toilette," as the French
express it. The men put their round caps in
order, tucked up their coats, adjusted their irons,
and prepared for the march in a sullen, patient,
slavish sort of way.

As for the big rogue, mutinous and shameless,
he was gayest of all. He put on the daring
air of a pedestrian about to walk a thousand
miles in a thousand hours; he looked round and
smiled, first at the imaginary "Fancy," and then
saucily at those mere Gentiles, the spectators,
who did not bet. He was patronising and encouraging
to his fellows in misfortune; with his
manacled hands he removed a neighbour's cap,
the neighbour handed him a pocket-comb, and
he adjusted his hair for him.

It was, when this wretch removed his cap,
that I first saw that every prisoner had his
head half shaved, leaving a hideous crest of
hair on one side, and on the other half the blue
smooth-shaved skin of a Turk. Monstrous
enough the residue hair looked, spreading over
the head like a Life Guard's plume, or the tuft
on a clown's head.

This semi-shave was evidently a standing joke
with the big thief, for he looked at us with an
impudent leer, mingled with a lazy and half-contemptuous
curiosity. Let me burn all books
on phrenology if that villain ever died in his
bed, or with the benediction of clergy.

All this time the women were shaking themselves
into their places among the bundles
in the waggons. They were women of a low
type— low in forehead, high in the cheek-bone,
with no chins, and bad mouths. They seemed
less cheerful than the men. They wore no
special dress, and seemed less carefully guarded.
As far as I could see, they wore no chains. A
woman has little chance of escape.

"If you were in Siberia," said the professor,
breaking a long silence, "you would see that
many men were stamped in the forehead and
both cheeks with the word ror (fur) 'thief.' In
the old times they used to nip off the nostrils,
and you may still see men so marked about the
towns in Siberia; but here comes the officer.
They'll start soon."

Yes, there came the officer, brown-skinned,
bright-eyed, smiling, all in an official state of
bustle, his loose grey coat, laced with gold on
the shoulders, flying behind him as he hurried
under the white arch of the prison, the papers
under his arm, and the bright steel scabbard of
his sword clattering along the stones. The
prisoners seemed to draw omens of good from
his pleasant face and his kindly alacrity.

He hurried along the ranks, with a kind
cheering word for many a one. When he came
to the big thief and his group, he stopped and
exhorted them in Russian. I could only catch
here and there a word. The professor interpreted
for me. He was begging the rogues to
take the thing quietly, to go cheerfully, and to
give as little trouble as possible, for their own