"
This Kerensky idea made me quite angry and I said as calmly as I could
under the circumstances:
"With all of my reverence for your order, your Highnesses, I refuse to
obey. Please shut the doors and don't wake up the others,--I have my
own accounts to settle." And when the doors closed, I kept tightening
and tightening the rope until his head turned and his tongue,--rough
and dry,--came way out and was touching my hands, and his face became
hot and wet. He made a few convulsive movements--and became still.
When his head fell with a dull sound on the floor, I took him out
under cover of the night, and threw his body into the well. I walked
out onto Tuliatskaya Street and chatted for a while with Leibner and
Vert.
I was changed and nobody asked me where my friend Pashinsky was.
52
Comrade Fost was shot yesterday at nine in the morning for murder. It
was a glorious inspiration to put the tassel under _his_ pillow. In
the afternoon we buried Pashinsky. I gave my share for a wreath with
red ribbons and the inscription "To him who fell for Proletariat--Long
live the International," and was present at the funeral. Dutzman made
a speech; a very pathetic one.
In the evening the sentinels were doubled. There are lights in every
room now. There was a light in every corridor. The ladies--are,--for
the moment being, out of immediate danger. The Soviet decided
to transport all to Ekaterinburg,--as soon as a steamer will be
available.
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