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prisons, some of us had their ears and toes
frozen; one got inflammation of the lungs, which
ended in consumption. As for myself, I don’t
remember to have had the slightest sensation of
the cold.
‘Our sentence of death had been changed to
eight years’ penal servitude in Siberia, and many
years’ subsequent exile.’
Aniuta and Tania knew that Dostojevsky
suffered from epileptic fits, but to them this
disease was connected with a kind of mysterious
horror, so they never dared breathe a word
about it. To their great surprise one day he
broached the subject himself, and told them
under what circumstances the first fit had seized
him.
He had left his prison and was living as a
colonist somewhere in Siberia. He suffered
dreadfully from solitude at the time, and
sometimes several months would pass without his
seeing a living creature. One day—it was
Easter-eve—one of his old friends came on an
unexpected visit. But in the delight of their
meeting they forgot the holy festival, and sat up
all night in endless talk about literature and
philosophy, and at last about religion. His
visitor was an atheist, Dostojevsky himself a
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