Marcel Xystobam
{119}
I SUPPOSE there are few civilian1 prisons in the Near East more humanely2 conducted and governed than the cosmopolitan3 Citadel4 of Salonika. Yet the Citadel is most inhuman5. Men rot there: their brains rot, and their bodies become flabby, sickly and inert6.
If, as a casual and inquiring visitor, you enter through the archway, you will be told to go to the right and then make a sudden turn to the left into a kind of cage which leads you to a staircase; mounting the stairs, you reach a platform placed high in the true centre of a circle. The circle below you is divided into four roofless segments: in one segment are Greeks; in another, Bulgars; in the third, Turks; in the fourth, Armenians, Montenegrins, Spanish Jews, and men of many other nationalities. The prisoners are separated by high walls; for if they mingled8 with each other they would fight, and perhaps kill; but well-behaved victims of law, if they choose, may leave for a short time one segment for another.
The Citadel is inhuman because the men living there are not compelled to work. Any work is better than none. Even a treadmill9 is a boon10 compared with everlasting11 indolence. I have been there many times and, fascinated, have watched young men sitting with their backs to the walls, staring with unfocussed eyes at—nothing. Always staring at nothing and, no doubt, thinking of nothing, and hoping nothing and regretting nothing.
For this reason the{120}y decay.
Euripitos Cavalcini—half Greek, half Italian—had not yet recovered from the shock of his arrest, trial and sentence. Three months ago he was one of the proudest men in Salonika—nay, one of the most overbearing, one of the most insolent12. He owned much land, two breweries13, and four streets of houses in the slums; he kept a flaunting14 large-bosomed courtesan; he was a patron of the arts, and the walls of two of his large rooms sported many of Rops’ indecencies. He commanded respect, admiration16. As soon as he entered a bank, lo! the manager was by his side. And before he had time to sit down at a restaurant table, the head waiter was reporting to him the latest additions to his wine-cellar.
But successful and magnificent though Euripitos Cavalcini was, he had his limitations. Life intoxicated17 him, and his grandiose18 vanity was an incessant19 drug. In Salonika there were cleverer men than he, and when he floated the India Bazaar20 Company with a capital of half-a-million, he felt strong enough to own half the world as enemies. But he was found out. The colossal21 swindle ruined many families, and even before he was pronounced guilty great crowds of men and women would gather round the court to cast insult upon him as he was taken in and escorted out.
The sentence of two years’ imprisonment23 broke him. His magnificenc{121}e fell from him in a single hour, and the insolent, hot spirit of him became abased24 and cringing25.
That is why, when in the Citadel, he was so humble26. The lord of life had become life’s slave. He was afraid of the meanest and most wretched of his fellow-prisoners. Life had turned upon him once and brought him to the dust, and some dark fear warned him that even yet life had not had its full revenge.
So he humbled27 himself and served others. The courtesan whom he had loved used, twice a week, to bring him food—cooked meats, fruit and sometimes a bottle of wine. These he would press into the hands of others—especially those who eyed him with contempt or who were harsh to him. Particularly did he cultivate the friendship of the big and strong, partly because he feared them, and partly because he hoped that in time of need—physical need—they would come to his defence.
Soon he became the victim of a great bearded man with small eyes of cunning, a man who, towering contemptuously above others, strode up and down the prison half his waking hours, his thick bare arms folded on his chest, his head set defiantly28 upon a bullock-like neck. This man was named Aristides, and it was said he was there because he had half-killed a demirep who had not kept faith with him.
“Take this, Aristides,” said Cavalcini, one afternoon, pulling a bottle of wine from beneath his cloak and furtively29 handing it to the bearded giant who was striding hither and thither30.{122}
Aristides, taking the bottle by the neck, held it up above his head against the sky’s brilliant blue.
“It is full?” he asked.
“Yes, it is full. And I have some grapes also.”
A big bunch of grapes changed hands. Aristides, having torn off a mouthful with his teeth, chewed them meditatively31, spat32 out the skins on Cavalcini’s feet, and then stared down on his victim.
“Anything else?” he asked, loudly.
There were terrible hours when Cavalcini gave way to morbid35 introspection. There was nothing in him that he kept sacred from himself; there was nothing so vile36 that he did not wish to understand it. Yet this habit of introspection dragged him deeper and deeper into dejection.
One morning he threw himself on the ground near the wall and covered his face with his cloak.
“Why am I so afraid?” he asked himself. “What harm can come to me here? Aristides will not hurt me. Aristides is my friend.”
Presently, he slept. It was a burning July day, and here, in this roofless prison, the air burned one’s skin. There was a faint, foul37 odour. The hard, enamelled sky and the sun beating on the walls mocked the prisoners. The sentr{123}y on the little raised platform in their midst looked pale and ill. A boy-prisoner—he had stabbed his mother—moaned occasionally in his sleep. There was little sound in any of the prison’s four compartments38, for everyone was lying down exhausted—some asleep, some merely stupefied. Everyone except Aristides. The giant, saturnine39 and insolent, promenaded40 like an emperor who has covered himself with degradation41. His eyes, examining the sweating men around him, picked out Cavalcini. Walking up to him, he kicked his victim on the buttocks. Cavalcini lifted his head and, seeing Aristides, staggered to his feet.
“Walk with me!” commanded Aristides.
For a full hour they strode up and down, no word passing between them, Cavalcini apprehensive42 and trembling, Aristides bearing himself as though ten thousand eyes were upon him.
A slow month crawled from the future into the past. There were hours—especially at night time when all the prisoners lay herded43 together in the big room upstairs—in which Cavalcini took the edge off his suffering by thoughts and half-formulated plans of escape. In his heart he knew he would never escape, that he would never attempt it, but it gave him pleasure to devise schemes for eluding44 the sentry45, for scaling the walls, for leaving Salonika for the freer world of Marseilles or Port Said.{124}
One day he thought he would curry46 favour with Aristides by talking to him of his plans. So, very humbly47 and with his eyes on the ground, he walked over to where the big bearded man was standing48.
“I’ve had something on my mind for a long time past,” he began; “something in which you might be willing to help me.”
“Well,” said Aristides, “what is it?”
His companion laughed.
“Isn’t that what most of us have been thinking of ever since we came here? Try again: think of something new.”
“But it could be done. I’m sure of it.”
“Can you scale the wall?” asked Aristides, nodding towards the outer wall that seemed to tower in the sky.
“No. But I might walk through gates that are locked and barred.”
“How? Speak out. Don’t play with me.”
“How much?”
“A thousand drachm?. Ten thousand drachm?.”
“Ho-ho?”
Aristides spat.
“You want my help?” he asked.
“I thought we might get away {125}together,” said Cavalcini, afraid of what he had already spoken, and horrified51 at the things he yet might utter. “Two can sometimes contrive52 a thing that is impossible for one,” he added.
“Well,” said Aristides, “ten thousand drachm? would not be enough. Can you get twenty thousand?”
“I might. I will try. My friend is coming this afternoon with my food. I will ask her what she can do.”
And as Aristides stood silently contemptuous, Cavalcini turned miserably53 away, feeling that he had committed himself to some frightful54 scheme he could not possibly carry out, and that he had done so to no purpose, for it was obvious Aristides was no better disposed towards him now than he had been before.
“I must not talk to anyone again,” he said to himself; “my nerve is gone, and I say things I do not mean.”
It was true he could get the sum of money he had named, but it was not true that he wished to attempt to escape. Only heroes and very desperate men escaped from that prison, and he was too deeply involved in misery55 to be desperate. But when his mistress came and he spoke50 to her for a few moments, as the prison rules permitted, he told her how to get the money.
“Bring it next time you come—bring it in hundred-drachm? notes. Wrap them into a little parcel and when you are talking to me, slip it into this pocket of my tunic56. I will stand as I am standing now. But be very careful you are not observed.”{126}
“But where shall you go when you escape?”
“I don’t know,” he said, miserably.
She looked at him with eyes of compassion57, took him in her arms and kissed him.
A few days later she called again, and passed the money into his pocket, unobserved.
“Don’t get yourself into worse trouble than you are in now, mon p’tit,” she said, her eyes full of tears.
He took the notes to Aristides, retaining five hundred drachm? for himself, of which he told Aristides nothing.
“I have brought you the money,” he said.
Aristides’ small eyes almost disappeared into his head with greed and cunning.
“Do not give me it now,” he said; “many eyes are upon us. That swine of a sentry is looking. Wait until we go to bed.”
And he turned on his heel and began walking disdainfully to and fro.
Now, at the time of which I am writing, the sentry on duty over the prisoners in the Citadel was relieved every two hours. By day there was only one sentry; by night there were two—one in the “compound,” one on the gallery above. Against one of these men Aristides nursed a fanatical hatred59. They had known each other for a long time; indeed, they were both from the same mountain village; but they had not met for many years. Critias had married the girl Aristides loved, and though she was now dead and Critias had come down in the world, neverthe{127}less Aristides’ hatred had flamed anew at sight of his old enemy. Nor had Critias wished for a reconciliation60; on the contrary, he had sought every opportunity to revile61 and taunt62 Aristides in his state of bondage63. Aristides had sworn to have revenge on the sentry before he left the prison, and so near was his hatred and so dear was the thought of vengeance64, that he could not persuade himself to attempt to escape until he had done his worst against his old enemy.
As he walked hither and thither, his thick hairy arms folded on his chest, his chin on his bosom15, he matured the half-formed plans that had come to his mind on the first occasion on which Cavalcini had spoken to him of escape. His term of imprisonment had only three more months to run: he would gladly serve those months if he could compass the death of his enemy, throw the guilt22 upon another, and secure at least a substantial portion of the money Cavalcini possessed65.
The whole thing was so simple that he smiled contemptuously at Cavalcini as he passed him.
That night as they were preparing for bed, Cavalcini once more offered the money to Aristides.
“Give me half,” said the giant, “and keep the other half for yourself. I will tell you my plans to-morrow.”{128}
“But where shall I hide it?” asked Cavalcini.
“Where I hide mine—in the pocket of your robe. Nobody would think of looking there for valuables.”
And he ostentatiously put the notes Cavalcini had given him in the inside pocket of his robe.
But before an hour had gone Aristides had secretly removed them to the middle of the straw in his mattress66.
Cavalcini could not sleep. His head was hot and light with anxiety. He would, he knew, have to attempt to escape with Aristides, yet the prospect67 of this attempt terrified him. But Aristides, it was evident, was depending upon him, and he did not dare to disappoint him.
Because of his apprehensiveness68, Cavalcini’s senses became abnormally keen, and it was with a feeling of nausea69 that he felt the sour odour of his fellow-prisoners as they turned in their beds. He could hear a low voice in distress70 at the far end of the room, and he told himself that it must be the wretched boy-prisoner talking in his sleep.
And then he became aware of someone moving: there was no sound, and the sense of movement was not conveyed to his brain by his eyes. It was as though stealthy and impending71 disaster were in the air, impinging on his brain through some unknown sense-channel.
He raised his head an inch and saw the bulky form of Aristides approaching. Cavalcini shook with fear. The giant was undressed, and his form, without his long, flowing robe, seemed much larger and stronger than when fully58 cla{129}d. Nearer and nearer he crept until he reached Cavalcini’s bed, where he stopped. The little man simulated sleep, but under his lids his eyes watched what might befall. Aristides took Cavalcini’s robe from the end of his bed and donned it; it fitted grotesquely72. Then, in silence, he passed the foot of the bed and made his way to the treacherous73, winding74 stone stairway leading to the four compartments below.
Terrified, hypnotized, Cavalcini sat up in bed, crawled to its foot, and watched this wanderer in the night. He saw Aristides—for there was a moon—descend the steps and crawl by the side of the wall as cruelly and as sinuously75 as a tiger. The sentry, twenty yards from Aristides, appeared to be facing him, but it seemed certain he saw nothing, for he made no movement and called out no challenge. Aristides stopped, advanced a little, and stopped again, crouching76. His body was so tightly squeezed against the wall that to Cavalcini it seemed to have become part of it. For a long time he did not move. But when the sentry turned his back on the would-be murderer and with slow regular paces began to walk away from him, Aristides rushed forward with a bound. Cavalcini could not see what happened next, but he caught the glint of a knife raised on high, and a few seconds later he saw the sentry lying motionless on the ground and the giant running back to the stone stairway. It had all taken in place in absolute silence. For a few moments Cavalcini did not realize what had happened. When, at last, he under{130}stood, his brain seemed to freeze with horror. Trembling, he sank back on his pillow and shut his eyes. He dared not move: it was dangerous even to breathe. He felt, rather than saw Aristides return and pass his bed, and he knew that his robe had been replaced.
Silence, save for the rapid, distressed77 muttering of a boy-prisoner at the far end of the room. After what had happened, it seemed an outrage78 that the night should continue. Cavalcini, feeling himself to be the victim of evil powers it was useless to resist, lay shivering with cold in the warm night, saying to himself over and over again.
“He has killed the wrong man! Why didn’t he kill me? He has killed the wrong man! Why didn’t he kill me?”
Suddenly, down in the “compound” below, a voice, sharp and clear, rang out. The guard was being summoned. The body had been found. Armed soldiers entered. Torches and candles were brought. Orders were given and countermanded79. Swords were drawn80 and bayonets fixed81. In two or three minutes the soldiers began to climb the stairway and take up positions along the gallery, fifteen paces apart, by the prisoners’ beds. A shrill82 whistle was blown many times until all the prisoners were awake.
“Every man will sit up in bed!” called out the officer in charge of the guard, speaking alternately in several languages. “If anyone attempts to get out of bed, he will be shot.”{131}
And then began a systematic83 search. Cavalcini only dimly realized what was happening, but when the officer and a sergeant84 reached his bed he became a ghastly victim of terror. His very looks condemned85 him. The officer eyed him with searching suspicion.
“Get out of bed and stand up!” he ordered.
Cavalcini put his feet on the floor and attempted to stand, but he collapsed86 on the bed, a miserable87 heap of quaking fear.
“Blood!” exclaimed the sergeant. “Look! There’s blood on his gown!”
“Stand up!” commanded the officer.
Cavalcini slipped to the floor and crawled forward on his hands and knees, gibbering.
Then the officer, searching the pockets of Cavalcini’s gown, pulled out a handful of hundred-drachma notes.
“Arrest him!” he said, calmly.
Cavalcini was pulled on to his feet and half-dragged, half-carried to the dark little hole, less than four feet high, that is to be found in the stone wall at the top of the stairway.
Three months later, Aristides, with his woman, was dining at one of the flashy restaurants on the quay-side.
“Tell me!” she said, pressing her foot upon his and rubbing his calf90 against her knee; “tell me! Where did you get all your money?”{132}
“Well,” said he, smiling at her cunningly, “it was given me by a great friend of mine in prison. He used to give me half of everything he had. Poor devil! He’s dead. They shot him. He didn’t behave himself very well. He murdered one of the sentries91.”
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1
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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humanely
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| adv.仁慈地；人道地；富人情地；慈悲地 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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breweries
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| 酿造厂，啤酒厂( brewery的名词复数 ) | |
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flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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admiration
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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cringing
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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promenaded
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| v.兜风( promenade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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eluding
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的现在分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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revile
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| v.辱骂，谩骂 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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apprehensiveness
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| 忧虑感，领悟力 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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sinuously
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| 弯曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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countermanded
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| v.取消（命令），撤回( countermand的过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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