accident," he
remarked with a smile, "for now I can say all that I want to."

This drew from me the question:

"May I describe all that I have heard and seen here?"

He thought a moment before replying: "Give me your notebook."

I handed him the album with my sketches of the trip and he wrote
therein: "After my death, Baron Ungern."

"But I am older than you and I shall die before you," I remarked.

He shut his eyes, bowed his head and whispered:

"Oh, no! One hundred thirty days yet and it is finished; then . . .
Nirvana! How wearied I am with sorrow, woe and hate!"

We were silent for a long time. I felt that I had now a mortal enemy
in Colonel Sepailoff and that I should get out of Urga at the earliest
possible moment. It was two o'clock at night. Suddenly Baron Ungern
stood up.

"Let us go to the great, good Buddha," he said with a countenance held
in deep thought and with eyes aflame, his whole face contracted by a
mournful, bitter smile. He ordered the car brought.

Thus lived this camp of martyrs, refugees pursued by events to their
tryst with Death, driven on by the hate and contempt of this offspring
of Teutons and privateers! And he, martyring them, knew neither day nor
night of peace. Fired by impelling, poisonous thoughts, he tormented
himself with the pains of a Titan, knowing that every day in this
shortening chain of one hundred thirty links brought him nearer to the
precipice called "Death."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

BEFORE THE FACE OF BUDDHA

As we came to the monastery we left the automobile and dipped into the
labyrinth of narrow alleyways until at last we were before the greatest
temple of Urga with the Tibetan walls and windows and its pretentious
Chinese roof. A single lantern burned at the entrance. The heavy gate
with the bronze and iron trimmings was shut. When the General struck the
big brass gong hanging by the gate, frightened monks began running up
from all directions and, seeing the "General Baron," fell to the earth
in fear of raising their heads.

"Get up," said the Baron, "and let us into the Temple!"

The inside was like that of all Lama temples, the same multi-colored
flags with the prayers, symbolic signs and the images of holy saints;
the big bands of silk cloth hanging from the ceiling; the images of the
gods and goddesses. On both sides of the approach to the altar were the
low red benches for the Lamas and choir. On the altar small lamps threw
their rays on the gol