"Yes, but what is that?"—"A French periodical."—"What does it contain?"—"Do you understand French?" I asked.—"No."—"Is there any one here who understands French?"—"No."—"There are all sorts of things in it; there are two numbers and there are ten articles in each number. It is impossible to tell in a word what they contain."—"Then we shall take it and send it to the censor in Warsaw."—"Is this periodical forbidden?"—"Everything is forbidden that I do not know, and I do not know this book." He then began to flutter among the leaves, forwards and backwards, and seemed to look for papers concealed in the sheets that had not been cut. I was reminded of the old lithograph which represents a monkey rifling the handbag of a traveller and fumbling in his books.
"Have you any more of this sort?"—"Yes, my trunk is half-full of books." They were going to open it, when I heard from another officer the expression, revolver, which I understood, as the word is cosmopolitan. They had found a pistol in my hand-bag. It circulated among them and was examined. "Was it loaded?"—"Yes, with six balls."—"Would I be kind enough to take them out?" I declined decidedly to be kind enough. "Then we must." They extracted the balls and afterwards found in the bottom of my trunk a little box of balls, which was put with the pistol.
Then began the examination proper. Every book, every pamphlet was dug out and laid aside; every newspaper, even the newspapers in which my shoes were wrapped, were taken out, smoothed, and laid in a pile. They asked in what language the books were and what was in them. As my explanation was not found fully satisfactory, they took the whole from me, giving me a receipt for 15 pounds of literature. At the same time they demanded three rubles for the transportation of this same literature to Warsaw. I should have attempted bribery, if Poles had not previously told me that above all things, bribery must not be tried in the wrong place. I should run the risk of their taking the attempt as a proof of evil intentions. It was in vain that I urged that I needed the books which they took from me for my work in Warsaw. It was in vain that I called their
