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." 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. Today Nachman called on me. He took me to the Square and when we were sitting on a bench, he said, that "It was well done" ("that's all right, sir, perfectly all right"), but if he were in my place he would go away. "It's easy," he continued,--"supposing I give you a good letter of recommendation to my people in Ekaterinburg? The interesting part of all of this,--believe me, has started only. Don't fear me,--this scabby Jew, this very Nachman,--will not betray." I thought it over and said: