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Now another thing: who got the pay for the heavy trucks, and for the benzine, and for the tents, and for the ... oh, many other things!... who got it? This very Nachman, yes, comrad ... have some more, please, it's good!..." "Quod forti placuit legis habet valorem." Sailor Khokhriakov the special envoy of the Sovnarkom and his band.
All were wrong, for Philip had just come back and the trucks were in place, no one came into the Ipatiev's house as I was on guard, and there had been no aeroplanes since six o'clock. Pytkan was almost dead when Khokhriakov finally got from him that the family had been shot and taken away and then he began to expire.
"Give the women to the people." "Put their guts out," etc., etc.... "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?
Here is the real danger, but only in case Colonel Kobylinsky and his Detachment of Special Destination would consent to join the Soviets. They all hesitate, not the Colonel, however. We all were sitting in the recreation room, about sixty or seventy of us in all. Khokhriakov presided. His neck is like a bull's, but rougher and red.
The family had disappeared, and no one knew where or how. Pytkan was shot in the stomach and in the throat and I saw him lying on the floor in the room. Khokhriakov and his men were shaking the rest of his life out of him, asking where the E. and the jewelry were, but all that Pytkan could say was "they were taken away."
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.
"Take him down over there. Isn't there anyone to choke him?" continued Khokhriakov bending over the hand-rails. "This ass is propagating, don't you see, comrades?" No one, however, moved. This crowd around the Bishop all answered. Their answer, a blunt roaring, sounded like distant thunder and there was such a frightening unity in this dull noise, that I had the shivers.
In no way would it do. "Now comrades," Khokhriakov continued after a short confidential chat with the curly, blond, small-faced and long-eared Kaganitsky, "comes the next proposition. I warn you, however; no matter how tempting this proposition is, do not make any harsh decision.
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