lan is a state secret....

Our prison is a huge five-story building. Situated in the outskirts of
the city, at the edge of a deserted field, overgrown with high grass, it
attracts the attention of the wayfarer by its rigid outlines, promising
him peace and rest after his endless wanderings. Not being plastered,
the building has retained its natural dark red colour of old brick,
and at close view, I am told, it produces a gloomy, even threatening,
impression, especially on nervous people, to whom the red bricks recall
blood and bloody lumps of human flesh. The small, dark, flat windows
with iron bars naturally complete the impression and lend to the whole a
character of gloomy harmony, or stern beauty. Even during good weather,
when the sun shines upon our prison, it does not lose any of its dark
and grim importance, and is constantly reminding the people that there
are laws in existence and that punishment awaits those who break them.

My cell is on the fifth story, and my grated window commands a splendid
view of the distant city and a part of the deserted field to the right.
On the left, beyond the boundary of my vision, are the outskirts of the
city, and, as I am told, the church and the cemetery adjoining it. Of
the existence of the church and even the cemetery I had known before
from the mournful tolling of the bells, which custom requires during the
burial of the dead.

Quite in keeping with the external style of architecture, the interior
arrangement of our prison is also finished harmoniously and properly
constructed. For the purpose of conveying to the reader a clearer idea
of the prison, I will take the liberty of giving the example of a fool
who might make up his mind to run away from our prison. Admitting that
the brave fellow possessed supernatural, Herculean strength and broke
the lock of his room--what would he find? The corridor, with numerous
grated doors, which could withstand cannonading--and armed keepers.
Let us suppose that he kills all the keepers, breaks all the doors, and
comes out into the yard--perhaps he may think that he is already free.
But what of the walls? The walls which encircle our prison, with three
rings of stone?

I omitted the guard advisedly. The guard is indefatigable. Day and night
I hear behind my doors the footsteps of the guard; day and night his
eye watches me through the little window in my door, controlling my
movements, reading on my face my thoughts, my intentions an