through which nothing could be seen, turned all its fury upon himself
and burned his soul like coals scattered upon boards. As though he
were in a drunken vapor, bright but incomplete images swarmed upon
him, failing and then becoming confused, and then again rushing
through his mind in an unrestrainable blinding whirlwind-and all were
bent toward escape, toward liberty, toward life. With his nostrils
expanded, like those of a horse, Tsiganok smelt the air for hours
long--it seemed to him that he could smell the odor of hemp, of the
smoke of fire-the colorless and biting smell of burning. Now he
whirled about in the room like a top, touching the walls, tapping them
nervously with his fingers from time to time, taking aim, boring the
ceiling with his gaze, filing the prison bars. By his restlessness, he
had tired out the soldiers who watched him through the little window,
and who, several times, in despair, had threatened to shoot. Tsiganok
would retort, coarsely and derisively, and the quarrel would end
peacefully because the dispute would soon turn into boorish,
unoffending abuse, after which shooting would have seemed absurd and
impossible.

Tsiganok slept during the nights soundly, without stirring, in
unchanging yet live motionlessness, like a wire spring in temporary
inactivity. But as soon as he arose, he immediately commenced to walk,
to plan, to grope about. His hands were always dry and hot, but his
heart at times would suddenly grow cold, as if a cake of unmelting ice
had been placed upon his chest, sending a slight, dry shiver through
his whole body. At such times, Tsiganok, always dark in complexion,
would turn black, assuming the shade of bluish cast-iron. And he
acquired a curious habit; as though he had eaten too much of something
sickeningly sweet, he kept licking his lips, smacking them, and would
spit on the floor, hissingly, through his teeth. When he spoke, he did