"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: