The twenty minutes of musical pandemonium come and go, the violinist as usual being the first to begin. Perhaps he may be the fortunate possessor of a watch. Then, also as usual, a silence follows, rendered all the more profound by reason of the previous discord. The cell-house has settled down for the night. Only a few muffled sounds make the stillness more distinctly felt. Then----
Suddenly the unearthly quiet is shattered by a terrifying uproar.
It is too far away to hear at first anything with distinctness; it is all a confused and hideous mass of shouting--a shouting first of a few, then of more, then of many voices. I have never heard anything more dreadful--in the full meaning of the word--full of dread. My heart is thumping like a trip hammer, and the cold shivers run up and down my back.
I jump to the door of the cell, pressing my ear close against the cold iron bars. Then I can distinguish a few words sounding against the background of the confused outcry. "Stop that!" "Leave him alone!" "Damn you, stop that!" Then some dull thuds; I even fancy that I hear something like a groan, along with the continued confused and violent shouting.
While I am perfectly aware that I am not in the least likely to be harmed, I am shivering with something close akin to a chill of actual terror. If anyone near at hand were to give vent to a sudden yell, I feel as if I might easily lose my self-control and shout and bang my door with the rest of them.
The cries continue, accompanied with other noises that I cannot make out. Then my attention is attracted by whispering down at one of the lower windows in the outer wall of the corridor opposite my cell. It is so dark outside that I can see nothing, not even the dim shapes of the whisperers; but apparently there are two of them, and they are looking in and commenting on the disturbance. Their sinister whispering is very unpleasant. I wonder if they can see what is going on. I feel inclined to call out and ask them, but I do not know who they are; and I do know that such an act would be entirely against the rules and liable to provoke severe punishment, and I am not yet ready to be sent to the jail.
The shouts die down. There are a few more vague and uncertain sounds--all the more dreadful for being uncertain; somewhere an iron door clangs! then stillness follows, like that of the grave.