We had to wait six days in Aleksandrovsk before leaving for Tymovsk District. During that time, we managed to get to know the educated exiles who had arrived on Sakhalin a year or two before us. Each hastened to help and attend to us as he could: one found us shirt linen, another a handkerchief, a third milk or bread, etc. Especially memorable is a stout Pole with an angular manner, P. D— — i. His unattractive wide forehead, awkwardly protruding whiskers, and red-gray eyes did not keep him from being for me the most sympathetic man in our group of exiles. He’d show up in our room early in the morning, carrying a variety of produce in both arms, and would not leave until late in the evening. His kindness seemed limitless. He seemed to be searching for an opportunity to devote himself to a comrade. Indeed, this would later play itself out.

Exiles’ visitations kept us in the ward for entire days, and we rarely exited the prison gates, though were rather scared to do so, having heard of so many unpleasant clashes playing out recently over the “cap issue.” An educated exile fulfils with difficulty all the demands Sakhalin officials impose on penal laborers concerning gestures of respect. Usually upon encountering an official, an exiled penal laborer would step off the pavement and, not at twelve paces, like a soldier, but at twenty paces or more, doff his cap and, with head bared, walk in terror and trepidation past his highness. Not everyone, however, risked going along the street past Warden L— — in this way. Many preferred to turn off and follow a detour of long alleyways. It got to the point that you had to pass with a bared head not just officials but even their houses.

“Not only ‘cause someone's lookin’ out the window. No, ‘tis best to take your cap off: every time!” penal laborers observed. On this basis, they would remove their caps before every stranger dressed in decent European clothing, be he a merchant, curious passenger, or foreign sailor from a steamer.

Exiles from the privileged estates sometimes tried to bow to officials. Some of them condescendingly tolerated such greetings, but others were indignant.

“Why's he bowing to me like an equal, like I’m an acquaintance on Nevskii Prospect?!” such gentlemen shouted.