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."