chool, bombarding the Hotel National, destroying the Kremlin
and pillaging private homes, I was quietly lying in a little house
somewhere behind Sukharev Tower under the care of a doctor and
Goroshkin's fat sister, whose conspicuous parts of the corsage were
soiled from cooking, and whose face was always red and radiant. My
return to life, and with it my return to the desire for activity and
eating, was commemorated by the appearance at my bed of nobody else
but Marchenko.

One bright morning, when my room seemed to be full of sunshine and
hope,--a man in the uniform of a communist soldier with a red rag on
his coat sleeve, walked into the room bringing in a breath of fresh
and frosty air and a whole arsenal of munitions. I did not recognize
him at first, a little pointed beard and heavy boots had transformed
him into a regular "tovarishch."

"Hello," he said, "glad to know you're alive."

"Yes," I answered, "I am about the only one whom they have not
happened to exterminate, but it is coming"!

Marchenko smiled. "You should not stay here for very long," he said,
"It is getting dangerous and raids are being planned to finish with
the burjoois who are hiding in the outskirts of Moscow."

"Don't think," he went on, "that I am honestly with the communists. My
task is the same and if we failed to do something before,--now we know
we will be successful. Kerensky is out of the life, living evidently
under the friendly protection of Lenine; I think Lenine was the only
man that he did not attempt to double cross."

"Now," he continued, "let us speak of you. I think that you must
understand that the little services that were asked of you some months
ago would have prevented many, many disagreeable events. Behind you,
you can see only sad memories and mourning,--before you, the very dark
existence of a man in hiding. If you will join us, I could guarantee
you a more or less protected life,--of course you will have to care
for your own self, too."

"Please your Excellency," said the voice of Goroshkin behind me,
"don't refuse this time. If your esteemed father could have known the
circumstances, he would have consented, and he was a strict man. I
recollect that His Excellency would not deign to wait a second for his
overcoat."

"Very well, I accept," I said to Marchenko, "but I must say to you
that it is not for the protection you promise me. I do not care much
for my life, but I would like to preserve it. Not to die rig