“Of whom are they talking?” I asked the Pole, who had sat down beside me.

“It’s Gazin, a convict. He does a trade in vodka here. When he’s saved up money enough, he spends it in drink. He is spiteful and cruel; when he is sober he is quiet, though; when he is drunk it all comes out; he flies at people with a knife. Then they have to restrain him.”

“How do they restrain him?”

“A dozen convicts fall upon him and begin beating him horribly until he loses consciousness, they beat him till he is half dead. Then they lay him on the bed and cover him with a sheepskin.”

“But they may kill him!”

“Anyone else would have been killed by now but not he. He is awfully strong, stronger than anyone in the prison and of the healthiest constitution. Next day he is perfectly well.”