At last the dawn of the bright day shows in the east; the money has been saved, not confiscated, not stolen, and he takes it to the taverner. The man first serves him vodka as pure as possible, that is, only diluted by half; but as the vodka is drunk, the bottle immediately gets topped up with water. A glass of vodka costs five or six times more than in a pothouse. Imagine how many such glasses you have to drink, and how much you have to pay, in order to get drunk! But, being unaccustomed to drinking and having abstained for a long time, the prisoner gets tipsy rather quickly, and usually goes on drinking until he drinks up all his money. Then all the new things go: the taverner is at the same time a usurer. First the most recently bought personal things go to him, then it gets on to old junk, and, finally, the government things. Having drunk up everything to the last rag, the drunkard goes to sleep, and waking up the next day with the unavoidable din in his head, he begs the taverner in vain for at least one sip of vodka for the hair of the dog. He sadly endures his adversity, and sets to work again the same day, and again works for several months without letup, thinking of the happy day of his binge, which has irrevocably sunk into oblivion, and gradually beginning to take heart and wait for another such day, which, though still far off, is sure to come in due course.

As for the taverner, having finally earned the enormous sum of several dozen roubles, he gets a last supply of vodka and now does not dilute it with water, because he intends it for himself: enough dealing, it’s time to celebrate! Carousing, drinking, eating, music begin. He has great means; even the nearest, lowest prison authorities have been buttered up. The binge sometimes goes on for several days. Naturally, the supply of vodka is soon drunk; then the carouser goes to other taverners, who are already expecting him, and drinks until he has drunk up every kopeck. However well the prisoners protect the carouser, he is sometimes noticed by the higher authorities, the major or the duty officer. He is taken to the guardhouse, his capital, if any is found on him, is confiscated, and in conclusion he is whipped. He shakes himself, goes back to the prison, and a few days later again takes up his profession of taverner. Some carousers, the rich ones, naturally, also dream about the fair sex. For big money, instead of working, they sometimes make their way from the fortress to the outskirts, accompanied by a bribed guard. There, in some remote little house, somewhere on the very edge of town, a great feast is thrown, and really big money is squandered. Even a prisoner is not scorned if he has money; a guard who knows the business is somehow chosen beforehand. Such guards are usually future candidates for prison themselves. However, everything can be done for money, and such excursions almost always remain secret. It should be added that they occur quite rarely; they require a good deal of money, and lovers of the fair sex resort to other means that are totally without danger.

From the first days of my prison life, one young prisoner, an extremely pretty boy, aroused a special curiosity in me. His last name was Sirotkin. He was a rather mysterious being in many respects. I was struck first of all by his beautiful face; he was no more than twenty-three years old. He was in a special section, without a term, which meant he was considered one of the most important military criminals. Gentle and meek, he spoke little, laughed rarely. His eyes were blue, his features regular, his face clean, tender, his hair a light brown. Even his half-shaven head did little to disfigure him, such a pretty boy he was. He had no skills, but he managed to get money, not much, but often. He was noticeably lazy and went about looking slovenly.