BETWEEN SUCH TRAGIC SCENES we also find the more agreeable instances of kind-hearted devotion to the convicts. Such a one is that of the widow who came every day to the door of the citadel with small presents, or to give them any news or gossip, and never without a smile of encouragement. She could do very little, for she was very poor herself, “but we prisoners all felt that close by, on the other side of the prison wall, there was one at least who loved us, and that was already a good deal.”
I select one more page, one of the most terse and touching, the story of an eagle set at large by the convicts “that he may die at liberty.” One day, returning from work, they had captured one of those large Siberian birds, having a broken wing. He was kept within the ramparts some months, was well fed, and kindly treated in the hope of taming him, but he crouched in the corner of his shelter, and flew at any one approaching too close, looking fiercely at the men who had made him share their prison, so that he was then left alone and neglected.
“He seemed to be proudly awaiting death, trusting nobody, hating everybody. At last, one day, the convicts quite by chance remembered him. After completely neglecting him for two months it seemed as if all had suddenly agreed to be kind to him. It was decided to set him free. ‘If he has to die, let it be at liberty,’ said some of them.
“’Agreed,’ said others; ‘a bird of freedom, wild… cannot be made to live in prison.’
“’That means, that he is not the same as we are,’ hazarded some one.
“’What rot! he is a bird and we are men. The eagle, comrades, is the King of the forests…!’ began Skutaroff, that florid speaker; but no one heeded him this time. After the mid-day meal, when the drums had called ‘to work,’ the eagle was seized – beak carefully held at a distance, for he bravely defended himself – and was taken outside the palisade. Arrived on the glacis, the dozen or so of men who had formed the escort loitered awhile, curious to see what the bird would do. Strange! For no apparent reason they all seemed as happy as if they were in some way to share that promised freedom.
“’The brute! we wanted to do him good, and there is biting away like mad!’ said the man who was holding him, and at the same time looking at him pityingly.
“’Let him go, Mikitka!’
“’Yes, poor devil, he is not made to live in a fort. Give him his freedom! beloved freedom!’
“The bird was thrown over the parapet into the open. It happened late on a cold autumn afternoon. The wind was howling over the barren steppe among the tall grass, already yellow and dried up. The eagle flew off with difficult, owing to his lame wing, straight into the horizon, as if anxious to get out of sight. The convicts watched his head as it disappeared through the long grass.
“’Look at the blackguard!’ said one of them thoughtfully.
“’He has not come back,’ said another. ‘Not once has he looked round, brothers. He only thinks of his own freedom.’
“A third said, ‘Well, I never! Did you think he would come back to thank you for your kindness?’
“’Right. He is now free! he knows what liberty means!’
“’Let us rather say – independence!’
“’He is out of sight, brothers.’
“’What are you a-loafing there?’ shouted roughly the guard. ‘Quick march!’
“And all returned sorrowfully to their labour.”
