The same chamber-lackey opened the rear door almost killing me with the smell of cabbage.
"Dr. Botkin is not in," he said, when I explained what I wanted, "Sit down, service-man. Take it"—he gave me a cigarette with a gold crescent on it—the kind they served at the Palace. I looked at the crescent and then at the man. In one glance he got I was not "service-man," but he did not show his discovery,—only got up and continued talking.
"The doctor is very busy right now. He was asked across the street twice today. Have you come from Russia? Demobilized?"
"Yes, quite demobilized," I answered. "I must see Mr. Botkin right now, so won't you please tell him about me as soon as he returns. Don't worry about the kitchen—I cannot stay here: I'd rather sit outside."
He showed me through the dining room into the front hall. From there I could see the Mansion quite well. A little square in front of it was fenced in, but not very high. On the front stairs I noticed two women and a boy, in whom, notwithstanding his torn-out shoes and unhappy looks, I recognized the unfortunate Heir to the Russian Throne. Someone called him in—and he went slowly into the house. Two Reds passed near the women smoking pipes and dragging the rifles by their bayonettes. They both looked piercingly at the women and exchanged a few words with each other. The women slowly moved toward the house. Their life must be a real torture within this fence!
A man of medium height passed from the Mansion and crossed the street. He entered the Kornilov House, and after short conversation with the chamber-lackey,—
"Did you wish to speak to me?" he asked,—I am Dr. Botkin."
"Yes, sir."
"Now,—what is it?"
"I come from Tumen, Dr. Botkin. I have brought you a letter from your friends."