“They’ve got their own clothes, your honour,” said the gendarme, drawing himself up suddenly with a positive start. Everyone knew of the major, everyone had heard of him, everyone was frightened of him.

“Take away everything! Only give them back their underlinen, the white things; if there are any coloured things take them away; and sell all the rest by auction. The money for the prison funds. The convict has no property,” he added, looking at us sternly. “Mind you behave yourselves! Don’t let me hear of you! Or⁠ ⁠… cor‑po‑ral pu‑nishment. For the least misdemeanour⁠—the lash!”

This reception, which was unlike anything I was used to, made me almost ill the whole evening. And the impression was increased by what I saw in the prison; but I have already described my first hours in prison.