The noise stopped under this voice, the windows were thrown open, and our Peoples' Commissary began:
"Comrades,—before us are three questions; 1st—whether to release the prisoners and give them to the Tobolsk people under the auspices of Comrade Kobylinsky and his men, or 2d—whether to try the prisoners right here by the people's tribunal, or 3d—to comply with some other requests—which I have the authority to propose—to send the prisoners to a Ural city. Let us proceed with the first question. I put this proposition to the ballot in this way: the Tobolians, and amongst them the popes, the monarchists, all of the counter-revolutionary trash do not want the Peoples' rule. So they say that the Nikolai family must be given to the Constituent Assembly. Now, what in the hell of hells, do they mean by this? What is a Constituant Assembly? Isn't it a crowd of the same enemies of the people? Isn't this 'Parliament' against our will? Shall we, proletarians, consider the question of a Constituent Assembly? Would it not be an act of counter-revolution? Come out here, right before me, the one that will dare to propose such a thing," and the ten pound wooly fist of the sailor was lifted and held for moments in the filthy air of the recreation room.
This rhetorical question, in fact, was not necessary, as we all, hearing the word "Proletariat" in the middle of Khokhriakov's speech had already started to make a noise and to applaud, the cheers densely hung in the room,—and even before he said, "I knew you are good proletarians and would drown this proposition, God damn you,—carried,"—the fate of this weak and impossible thing at that time, the hope for a Constituent Assembly,—was told. 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. We know your zeal in Petrograd—that's why we all would want you to say your word, but … if I see that someone is too zealous, I'd rather keep silent if I were he. Can we try these bloodsuckers here?"
An impossible noise began after his words.
"Try?"—"Why? Kill them all, that's all." "Kill the Czar,"—"Kill the brat." "Let them go." "To hell with all of them." "Let's try them, of course." "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? 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.
"Now, comrades, comes the next proposition,—to send the prisoners away,—to the Ural city, probably Ekaterinburg. Comrade Kaganitzky is here. He says, they will be treated very well (Laughter) and they will not be in danger of the Czecks, and popes, and monarchists. The comrades of the detachment and Comrade Kobylinsky—agreed. How do you like this? Say, who is against it? Come out!"
Free people in a free country—consented. After which consent a commission under the chairmanship of Kaganitzky was appointed to elaborate particulars. The Detachment of Special Destination was thus dissolved and Comrade Kobylinsky was allowed to proceed to Petrograd.