y silhouettes surrounded each
carriage; the horseshoes struck noisily against the ground, or plashed
upon the melting snow.

When Werner bent down, about to climb into the carriage, the gendarme
whispered to him:

"There is somebody else going along with you."

Werner was surprised.

"Where? Where is he going? Oh, yes! Another one? Who is he?"

The gendarme was silent. Indeed, in a dark corner a small, motionless
but living figure pressed close to the side of the carriage. By the
reflection of the lantern Werner noticed the flash of an open eye.
Seating himself, Werner pushed his foot against the other man's knee.

"Excuse me, comrade."

The man made no reply. It was only when the carriage started, that he
suddenly asked in broken Russian, speaking with difficulty:

"Who are you?"

"I am Werner, condemned to hanging for the attempt upon N--. And you?"

"I am Yanson. They must not hang me."

They were riding thus in order to appear two hours later face to face
before the inexplicable great mystery, in order to pass from Life
to Death--and they were introducing each other. Life and Death moved
simultaneously, and until the very end Life remained life, to the most
ridiculous and insipid trifles.

"What have you done, Yanson?"

"I killed my master with a knife. I stole money."

It seemed from the tone of his voice that Yanson was falling asleep.
Werner found his flabby hand in the darkness and pressed it. Yanson
withdrew it drowsily.

"Are you afraid?" asked Werner.

"I don't want to be hanged."

They became silent. Werner again found the Esthonian's hand and pressed
it firmly between his dry, burning palms. Yanson's hand lay motionless,
like a board, but he made no longer any effort to withdraw it.

It was close and suffocating in the carriage. The air was filled with
the smell of soldiers' clothes, mustiness, and the leather of wet boots.
The young gendarme who sat opposite Werner breathed warmly upon him, and
in his breath there was the odor of onions and cheap tobacco. But some
brisk, fresh air came in through certain clefts, and because of this,
spring was felt even more intensely in this small, stifling, moving box,
than outside. The carriage kept turning now to the right, now to the
left, now it seemed to turn back. At times it seemed as though they had
been turning around on one and the same spot for hours for some reason
or other. At first a bluish electric light penetrated through the
lower