An aching, overwhelming sense of the hideous cruelty of the whole
barbaric, brutal business sweeps over me; the feeling of moral, physical
and mental outrage; the monumental imbecility of it all; the horrible
darkness; the cruel iron walls at our backs; the nerve-racking monotone of
the whirring dynamo through the other wall; the filth; the vermin; the bad
air; the insufficient food; the denial of water; and the overpowering,
sickening sense of accumulated misery--of madness and suicide, haunting
the place. How can I speak of these things? How can I not speak of them?
How can I----

Hark!

Click! Click! Click! Click! I hear the levers being pressed down by the
officer, and the stirring of life along the galleries.

Click! Click! Click! Click! I had no idea it was possible to hear the
sounds from the south wing, 'way in here. And it is still so early in the
morning--only half past four.

Click! Click! Click! It must be the prisoners who work in the kitchens,
they are the only ones who would be moving at such an hour. But again, how
is it possible to hear them so far away, shut in as we are by stone walls
and iron doors?

Uneasily I shift my position and turn over on my left side, which feels
temporarily less bruised and painful than the other. The clicking stops.
But other vague sounds succeed; and then suddenly----

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! It is the march of the gray companies down the
stone walk of the yard.

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! It is certainly not only the kitchen gang, for
there must be many companies of them.

Tramp! Tramp----

But this is ridiculous, at half past four in the morning! It can't be
true, it must be my imagination. I am not really hearing these sounds, for
my reason tells me they are impossible.

Nevertheless I do hear them. Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

I try in vain to reason myself out of the evidences of my senses. I am
hearing sounds that I am sure do not exist.

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp----

Heavens! Am I going mad?

This is past bearing. I abandon the attempt to sleep and sit up. As I do
so the cell is suddenly filled with flying sparks which dance from one end
to the other. Aghast, I steady myself with my back against the side of the
cell.

This is getting serious. I grit my teeth together, and, shutting my eyes
in the hope of keeping out the sight of the flitting sparks, I say firmly
to myself, "This must not be. Don't lose your nerve. Cool down. Control
yourself.