By Anton P. Chekhov
IIt was a dark autumn night. The old banker was pacing fromcorner to corner of his study， recalling to his mind the partyhe gave in the autumn fifteen years before. There were manyclever people at the party and much interesting conversation.
They talked among other things of capital punishment. Theguests， among them not a few scholars and journalists， for themost part disapproved of capital punishment. They found itobsolete as a means of punishment， unfitted to a Christian Stateand immoral. Some of them thought that capital punishmentshould be replaced universally by life-imprisonment.
“I don’t agree with you，” said the host. “I myself haveexperienced neither capital punishment nor life-imprisonment，but if one may judge a priori， then in my opinion capitalpunishment is more moral and more humane thanimprisonment. Execution kills instantly， life-imprisonmentkills by degrees. Who is the more humane executioner， onewho kills you in a few seconds or one who draws the life outof you incessantly， for years？”
“They’re both equally immoral，” remarked one of the guests，“because their purpose is the same， to take away life. The Stateis not God. It has no right to take away that which it cannotgive back， if it should so desire.”
Among the company was a lawyer， a young man of abouttwenty-five. On being asked his opinion， he said：
“Capital punishment and life-imprisonment are equallyimmoral； but if I were offered the choice between them， Iwould certainly choose the second. It’s better to live somehowthan not to live at all.”
There ensued a lively discussion. The banker who was thenyounger and more nervous suddenly lost his temper， bangedhis fist on the table， and turning to the young lawyer， cried out：
“It’s a lie. I bet you two millions you wouldn’t stick in a celleven for five years.”
“If you mean it seriously，” replied the lawyer， “then I bet I’llstay not five but fifteen.”
“Fifteen！ Done！” cried the banker. “Gentlemen， I stake twomillions.”
“Agreed. You stake two millions， I my freedom，” said thelawyer.
So this wild， ridiculous bet came to pass. The banker， whoat that time had too many millions to count， spoiled andcapricious， was beside himself with rapture. During supper hesaid to the lawyer jokingly：
“Come to your senses， young roan， before it’s too late. Twomillions are nothing to me， but you stand to lose three orfour of the best years of your life. I say three or four， becauseYou’ll never stick it out any longer. Don’t forget either， youunhappy man， that voluntary is much heavier than enforcedimprisonment. The idea that you have the right to free yourselfat any moment will poison the whole of your life in the cell. Ipity you.”
And now the banker， pacing from corner to corner， recalledall this and asked himself：
“Why did I make this bet？ What’s the good？ The lawyerloses fifteen years of his life and I throw away two millions.
Will it convince people that capital punishment is worseor better than imprisonment for life？ No， no！ all stuff andrubbish. On my part， it was the caprice of a well-fed man； onthe lawyer’s pure greed of gold.”
He recollected further what happened after the evening party.
It was decided that the lawyer must undergo his imprisonmentunder the strictest observation， in a garden wing of the banker’shouse. It was agreed that during the period he would bedeprived of the right to cross the threshold， to see livingpeople， to hear human voices， and to receive letters andnewspapers. He was permitted to have a musical instrument， toread books， to write letters， to drink wine and smoke tobacco.
By the agreement he could communicate， but only in silence，with the outside world through a window specially constructedfor this purpose. Everything necessary， books， music， wine，he could receive in any quantity by sending a note through thewindow. The agreement provided for all the minutest details，which made the confinement strictly solitary， and it obliged thelawyer to remain exactly fifteen years from twelve o’clock ofNovember 14th， 1870， to twelve o’clock of November 14th，1885. The least attempt on his part to violate the conditions， toescape if only for two minutes before the time freed the bankerfrom the obligation to pay him the two millions.
During the first year of imprisonment， the lawyer， as far asit was possible to judge from his short notes， suffered terriblyfrom loneliness and boredom. From his wing day and nightcame the sound of the piano. He rejected wine and tobacco.
“Wine，” he wrote， “excites desires， and desires are the chieffoes of a prisoner； besides， nothing is more boring than todrink good wine alone，” and tobacco spoils the air in his room.
During the first year the lawyer was sent books of a lightcharacter； novels with a complicated love interest， stories ofcrime and fantasy， comedies， and so on.
In the second year the piano was heard no longer and thelawyer asked only for classics. In the fifth year， music washeard again， and the prisoner asked for wine. Those whowatched him said that during the whole of that year he wasonly eating， drinking， and lying on his bed. He yawnedoften and talked angrily to himself. Books he did not read.
Sometimes at nights he would sit down to write. He wouldwrite for a long time and tear it all up in the morning. Morethan once he was heard to weep.
