A
mist spread over his eyes, his soul shuddered, and with difficulty he
followed the men into the place where his commitment was to be
ratified. Here all the proud energies of his nature again rallied
round his heart.
The brutal questions of the people in office, re-echoed by taunts
from the wretches who had brought him to the prison, were of a nature
so much beneath his answering, that he stood perfectly silent during
the business; and when dismissed, without evincing any signs of
discomposure, he followed the turnkey to his cell.
One deal chair, a table, and a miserable bed, were all the furniture
it contained. The floor was paved with flags, and the sides of the
apartment daubled with discolored plaster, part of which, having been
peeled off by the damp, exposed to view large spaces of the naked
stones.
Before the turnkey withdrew he asked Thaddeus whether he wanted
anything?
"Only a pen, ink, and paper."
The man held out his hand.
"I have no money," replied Sobieski.
"Then you get nothing here," answered the fellow, pulling the door
after him.
Thaddeus threw himself on the chair, and in the bitterness of his
heart exclaimed, "Can these scoundrels be Christians?--can they be
men?" He cast his eyes round him with the wildness of despair.
"Mysterious Heaven, can it be possible that for a few guineas I am to
be confined in this place for life? In these narrow bounds am I to
waste my youth, my existence? Even so; I cannot, I will not, degrade
the spirit of Poland by imploring assistance from any native of a
land in which avarice has extinguished the feelings of humanity.
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