"Now comrades,"--Khokhriakov continued after a short confidential chat with the curly, blond, small-faced and long-eared Kaganitsky,--"comes the next proposition. I warn you, however; no matter how tempting this proposition is, do not make any harsh decision. We know your zeal in Petrograd--that's why we all would want you to say your word, but ...

if I see that someone is too zealous, I'd rather keep silent if I were he. Can we try these bloodsuckers here?"

An impossible noise began after his words.

"Try?"--"Why? Kill them all, that's all." "Kill the Czar,"--"Kill the brat." "Let them go." "To hell with all of them." "Let's try them, of course." "Give the women to the people." "Put their guts out," etc., etc....

"Shut up you all," shouted Khokhriakov, "let me count the votes. I see you cannot decide, though you _all_ don't want the trial _here!_ Is that so? All right, as you wish, the will of people must prevail.

What? Who said it is _not_ so? Come out you counter-revolutionary, you monarchist, you royal carrion,--come out and say it to _my face_, don't hide, you...." Nobody came out. This categorical imperative could surpass the Kant's.... Kaganitzky's face, smiling, and with moving flappy ears, was in accord with this understanding, and when Khokhriakov barked his--"Carried," he bowed his head.

The audience was then silenced.

"Now, comrades, comes the next proposition,--to send the prisoners away,--to the Ural city, probably Ekaterinburg. Comrade Kaganitzky is here. He says, they will be treated _very well_ (Laughter) and they _will not be in danger_ of the Czecks, and popes, and monarchists. The comrades of the detachment and Comrade Kobylinsky--agreed. How do you like _this_? Say, _who_ is against it? Come out!"

Free people in a free country--consented. After which consent a commission under the chairmanship of Kaganitzky was appointed to elaborate particulars. The Detachment of Special Destination was thus dissolved and Comrade Kobylinsky was allowed to proceed to Petrograd.

With a headache from the noise and smoke I left the court-room and went out in the City Square to breathe a little fresh air. Children were playing with sand and toys. Children of the New Russia! Russia of free speech, free thoughts, free ways! God, what will grow out of _you_?... I wanted to pet one of them, a little thing with gray eyes, but frightened to death of a "Red"--the child yelled and ran; from a distance it shook at me a little trembling fist. So--it is not so bad.

While in the garden--the court room probably was emptied, as few shots were fired behind me,--on the hill, and shortly after, a gala-demonstration started--with a rattling of stones on the roof of the Mansion, whistles, songs and a general delirium of the uncontrolled and wicked _mob_ ...

Feeling the bridles of the High Commissaries, unable to do something to them, understanding the guidance under a sauce of self government, the _mob_ was avenging itself on the inhabitants of the Mansion.

46

I wonder where Lucie is now?

Something heavy and depressing is in my mind this last time; some fog in my thoughts; I think I am losing my standing of a gentleman, dealing with all of these people. My language has become vulgar; my manners, also. I begin....

(_few lines scratched out_)

47

... This morning Pashinsky repeated that the Em. will be taken to Ekaterinburg with the Empress and the Heir. The daughters will stay here for a while. "Believe me, we'll have a good time," he said, offensively breathing in my face.

I stood near the gates of the fence when Dr. Botkin passed. Nobody was near me, Pashinsky having gone for a drink of water into the quarters.

I said without turning my head:

"Decision taken to send only the Em. and Empress and the Heir.

Daughters will stay here." Dr. Botkin did not stop. Then, as guard, I did not let him in, and as if I were examining him (that was my right) I said, "Please warn the ladies, and tell the Emperor that the Commissary did not act badly; I guess there is no danger in his going away. I fear for the ladies only."

"You don't mean it! They double-crossed us! They assured us all would go. The scoundrels! Now please let me go,--and thank you, you strange man."

I let him go.

Pashinsky appeared and looked at me. "Are you getting tired of this muzzle, too? Isn't he a ...?"

"Yes," I said, "I must watch him closer now. I think we had better watch him. You stay on the other side, and I'll be here near the windows.

"All right," he said. "Then we can meet here. I'm going to walk from the garden to the fence, and you stay right here. What is your suspicion?"

"Nothing in particular," I answered.... "Just the ordinary one; I don't like him. That's all."

So we walked the way he proposed. Every time he would be near the garden, he would cough in such a noisy and sardonic way that the Heir, who was sitting with Derevenko on the bench would turn his long, pensive face, and his old sailor guardian would look with hatred on the rascal.

When Pashinsky was away, the window behind me opened very cautiously and a lady's voice said to me, "Don't turn. Is it true they are to take Father away? Now, I know you are a gentleman. What would you advise us to do? I think we are all lost."

Pashinsky started to come back; then a Lett passed, so the voice stopped. Pashinsky came near me and said, "The Heir never cries when I tease him. Believe me, he is a hard kid. What do you think if I scare him more?"

"Yes," I said, "a stubborn child." "I must try again," and he walked away.

The window again gave way. "Please," the same voice said, "can't you give any advice to us? We are so frightened! Father is praying; Mother's very ill; we are all alone."

"I'll write you," I said, (without moving my lips), "what I think and bring it back."

"Thank you."

I went to Pashinsky, whose teasing was becoming hideous and rough.

He said to the Heir that they had decided to shoot the whole family.

Tears were on the child's face but he kept on bravely; he could not go away--Pashinsky was at the gate.

I wished: "Just a day or two,--and I will be able to do something. Oh, God! Send something to stop it right now."

I guess that my prayer was heard.

The tutor's face,--one of those broad Russian faces,--gradually grew purple and then grey. Slowly, and hypnotising Pashinsky, he approached the scamp, took him by the collar and pulled him towards the fence.

Then, losing his breath, Derevenko said, "Leave the boy alone, you scoundrel! You,--you call yourself a Russian sailor? You? Have this...." and the slap on Pashinsky's face sounded to me like Chopin's First Nocturne. What divine music!

I expected a clash. But no! The rifle fell out of Pashinsky's hands and, silent and tamed, with half-closed eyes, he was waiting for another smash. Then Derevenko saw me and thought I was going to shoot him, but I made no such move. I slipped away and went innocently towards the big gate. So, when Pashinsky came to me--he was sure I had seen nothing, and when I asked how the teasing was going on, he answered:

"Oh, I let this trash go. It annoys me."

The left side of his face was inflamed and tears were frozen on his eyes. It was a good one, by God!

After this incident I turned to the quarters "for a drink of water"

and wrote a little note that "nothing bad could happen to the Princesses when they were alone" and that, "I shall exert all in my power to prevent any disagreeable happenings." I wrote that I knew some people were working to save them. My letter, I thought, would brace them up and would give them an idea that there was, amongst these beasts--one, that would not be an enemy. In case of a struggle this idea would keep them from losing hope and their power of resistance. Then I added that I could be found in the hotel, and that Dr. Botkin knew me.

Contemplating my scratchings, I went over to the window; somebody was patiently waiting and looking around, for the voice said:

"I am so glad Derevenko slapped this awful man."

"I am too, your Highness. Now--there is a letter. I'll put it on the bayonette and stay still; you take it."