Rodzianko and I were admitted next. Kerensky was visibly agitated. He said that he had not expected me to carry out his errand in such a manner. I had not acted rightly, he declared.
“Perhaps I am guilty towards you, Minister,” I replied. “But I acted according to my conscience, and did what I felt was my duty to the country.”
Rodzianko then addressed Kerensky in some such manner as the following:
“Botchkareva reports from the front that you are rapidly losing favour with both men and officers; the officers because of the decay of discipline, the men because of their desire to go home. Now, consider what is happening to the army. It is going to pieces. The fact that the soldiers could allow a group of women and officers to perish is proof that the situation is critical. Something must be done immediately. Give absolute authority in the army to Kornilov, and he will save the front. And do you remain at the head of the Government, to save us from Bolshevism.”
I joined Rodzianko in his plea. “We are rapidly nearing an abyss,” I urged, “and it will soon be too late. Kornilov is an honourable man, I am convinced of it. Let him save the army now, so that people shall not say afterwards that Kerensky destroyed the country!”
“That will never happen!” he cried, banging his fist on the table. “I know what I am doing!”
“You are destroying Russia!” exclaimed Rodzianko, angered by Kerensky’s arrogance. “The blood of the country will be on your head.”
Kerensky turned red, then white as a corpse. His appearance frightened me. I thought he would fall down dead.
“Go!” he shrieked, beside himself, pointing toward the door. “Leave this room!”
Rodzianko and I moved to the exit. At the door Rodzianko stopped for a moment, turned his head and flung a few biting words at the Minister.