“But why?” “Because I have orders to detain all officers returning from the front,” he replied. “But I am only going home!” I tried to argue. “Yes, I understand. But as an officer you will also understand that I must obey orders. They will probably release you.” He hailed a cabman and we drove to the Smolny Institute, the seat of the Bolshevik Government. It impressed me as a strongly garrisoned fortress. There were armed sentries everywhere. Accompanied by Red Guards I was led inside. There were Guards at every desk. I was taken before a sailor. He was very rough and brusque. “Where are you going?” he demanded curtly. “I am going home, to a village near Tomsk,” I replied. “Then why are you armed?” he sneered. “Because I am an officer, and this is my uniform,” I answered. He blazed up. “An officer, eh? You will be an officer no more. Give me that pistol and sword!” he ordered. The arms were those given to me at the consecration of the flag of the Battalion. I prized them too much to hand them over to this rogue of a sailor, and I refused to comply with his demand. He grew furious. It would have been useless to resist as the room was full of Red Guards. I declared that if he wanted my arms he could take them, but I would never surrender them myself. He violently tore the pistol and sword from me and pronounced me under arrest. There was a dark cellar in the Institute which was used as a place of detention, and I was sent down there and locked up. I was hungry, but received no answer to all my calls, and remained in the hole till the following morning. As soon as I was brought upstairs I began to demand my arms. The various officials, however, remained deaf to my pleas. I was informed that I should be taken before Lenin and Trotzky, and was soon led into a large, light room where two men of contrasting appearance were seated, apparently expecting my entrance. One had a typical Russian face. The other looked Jewish. The first was Nikolai Lenin, the second Leon Trotzky. Both arose as I stepped in and walked toward me a few steps, stretching out their hands and greeting me courteously. Lenin apologized for my arrest, explaining that he had learned of it only that morning. Inviting me to a seat, the two Bolshevik chiefs complimented me upon my record of service and courage, and began to sketch to me the era of happiness that they intended to procure for Russia. They talked simply, smoothly and very beautifully. It was for the common people, the toiling masses, the disinherited that they were fighting. They wanted justice for all. Wasn’t I of the working class myself? Yes, I was. Wouldn’t I join them and co-operate with their party in bringing happiness to the oppressed peasant and workman? They wanted peasant women like myself: they had the highest esteem for them. “You will bring Russia not to happiness but to ruin,” I said.