cannot recall, but I am certain that a greater part of the time passed
in delirium, and I almost cried with delight when I saw the first rays
of the breaking day filter through the window. They at least did modify
the terrible darkness.

At 5.30 in the morning along came the gaoler. The cell was opened and a
broom was thrust into my hands. To me that domestic utensil was as a new
toy to a child. I grasped it with delight: it at least would give me
some occupation. I set to sweeping the cell furiously. I could have
enjoyed the company of that broom for hours, but a prisoner is only
allowed two minutes to sweep his cell. Then the broom was snatched out
of my hands and to the droning of "Pace!" which rang out continually
like the tolling of a funeral bell, I knew the next day had begun.

I fell back on to my bed almost broken at heart at being deprived of the
humble broom. But by now the significance of German solitary confinement
had been brought home to me fully. I would not be broken. I would ward
off the terrible results at all hazards. So when the gaoler came with my
breakfast he found me in high spirits--assumed for the occasion I may
say. When he pushed in the basin of skilly I picked it up and set it
beside the others. Pointing to the row of untouched food I turned to him
cynically and remarked, "Don't you think you're making too much fuss of
me?"

"Ach!" he growled in reply.

"If you persist in going on like this I shall think I am in a nursing
home!"

"Ach!" he retorted sharply, "If you think you are in a nursing home