"
He put his rifle behind the rain-pipe, straightened his belt, and
started towards the entrance door.
The door of the Mansion squeaked and swallowed him, and before I heard
him walking up the stairs I followed him.
All was dark inside, only a feeble light from the court penetrated
through the windows. We passed the corridor, then a large room, then
a small room. Here Pashinsky stopped--and I heard his heavy breathing.
Then he threw open the door.
I saw mattresses on the floor and in a far corner pale, trembling
figures, glued together by fear.
Pashinsky hesitated for a moment--to pick out the one he wanted--and
then with an outcry, suddenly rushed to this mass of helpless
panic-stricken bodies, and a struggle between a delirious man, feebled
by desire, and these ladies, began.
I jumped on him from behind; preoccupied, he did not feel when I put
the rope around his neck so that the collar wouldn't be in my way,
tightened my weapon in a deadlock and dragged him away--almost before
his carnal touch contaminated the Princesses--into the next room, and
shut the doors.
He was making some efforts to free himself, hitting my knees with his
heels, and growling from rage; then he bit me in the hand. But in a
minute I was already firmly sitting on his back, with my knees on his
awkwardly turned arms, twisting the rope with all of the strength I
had.
"Please, don't kill him," I heard a sobbing whispering voice say, and
other voices, too, repeated the "don't kill.
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