other to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and desiring me to forward it to its destination, in case he should not be immediately released. I expressed once more, in terms equally strong and sincere, my desire to labour with all zeal for his liberation. As to the release of Kapostas and Kilinski, I was quite easy. But nine, ten, eleven o’clock struck; the corporal returned from town, and still no news! I felt impatient, when, at half-past eleven, I heard a great noise in the corridor; the door opened, and the Inspector of the prison, Makarow, entered my cell quite out of breath. Pretending to know nothing, I began by reproaching him for having neglected us so long. “I am out of breath,” said he, “I cannot speak.” He sat down upon my bed; I took my place at his side, and, after a few minutes of silence, he drew a paper from his pocket and read me the order of the Emperor, signed with his own hand, which restored me to liberty. He then embraced and congratulated me. The humble manner in which the Praporszczyk bowed then to me, as he expressed
