... One man went
strutting around with a bronze clock perched on his shoulder;
another found a plume of ostrich feathers, which he stuck in his
hat. The looting was just beginning when somebody cried, "Comrades!
Don't touch anything! Don't take anything! This is the property of
the People!" Immediately twenty voices were crying, "Stop! Put
everything back! Don't take anything! Property of the People!" Many
hands dragged the spoilers down. Damask and tapestry were snatched
from the arms of those who had them; two men took away the bronze
clock. Roughly and hastily the things were crammed back in their
cases, and self-appointed sentinels stood guard. It was all utterly
spontaneous. Through corridors and up stair-cases the cry could be
heard growing fainter and fainter in the distance, "Revolutionary
discipline! Property of the People...."
We crossed back over to the left entrance, in the West wing. There
order was also being established. "Clear the Palace!" bawled a Red
Guard, sticking his head through an inner door. "Come, comrades,
let's show that we're not thieves and bandits. Everybody out of the
Palace except the Commissars, until we get sentries posted."
Two Red Guards, a soldier and an officer, stood with revolvers in
their hands. Another soldier sat at a table behind them, with pen
and paper. Shouts of "All out! All out!" were heard far and near
within, and the Army began to pour through the door, jostling,
expostulating, arguing.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166