"the terrible general, the baron," arrived quite unexpectedly,unnoticed by the outposts of colonel kazagrandi. after a talk withkazagrandi the baron invited colonel n. n. philipoff and me intohis presence. colonel kazagrandi brought the word to me. i wantedto go at once but was detained about half an hour by the colonel,who then sped me with the words:
"now god help you! go!"it was a strange parting message, not reassuring and quiteenigmatical. i took my mauser and also hid in the cuff of my coatmy cyanide of potassium. the baron was quartered in the yurta ofthe military doctor. when i entered the court, captain veseloffskycame up to me. he had a cossack sword and a revolver without itsholster beneath his girdle. he went into the yurta to report myarrival.
"come in," he said, as he emerged from the tent.
at the entrance my eyes were struck with the sight of a pool ofblood that had not yet had time to drain down into the ground--anominous greeting that seemed to carry the very voice of one justgone before me. i knocked.
"come in!" was the answer in a high tenor. as i passed thethreshold, a figure in a red silk mongolian coat rushed at me withthe spring of a tiger, grabbed and shook my hand as though inflight across my path and then fell prone on the bed at the side ofthe tent.
"tell me who you are! hereabouts are many spies and agitators," hecried out in an hysterical voice, as he fixed his eyes upon me. inone moment i perceived his appearance and psychology. a small headon wide shoulders; blonde hair in disorder; a reddish bristlingmoustache; a skinny, exhausted face, like those on the oldbyzantine ikons. then everything else faded from view save a big,protruding forehead overhanging steely sharp eyes. these eyes werefixed upon me like those of an animal from a cave. my observationslasted for but a flash but i understood that before me was a verydangerous man ready for an instant spring into irrevocable action.
though the danger was evident, i felt the deepest offence.
"sit down," he snapped out in a hissing voice, as he pointed to achair and impatiently pulled at his moustache. i felt my angerrising through my whole body and i said to him without taking thechair:
"you have allowed yourself to offend me, baron. my name is wellenough known so that you cannot thus indulge yourself in suchepithets. you can do with me as you wish, because force is on yourside, but you cannot compel me to speak with one who gives meoffence."at these words of mine he swung his feet down off the bed and withevident astonishment began to survey me, holding his breath andpulling still at his moustache. retaining my exterior calmness, ibegan to glance indifferently around the yurta, and only then inoticed general rezukhin. i bowed to him and received his silentacknowledgment. after that i swung my glance back to the baron,who sat with bowed head and closed eyes, from time to time rubbinghis brow and mumbling to himself.
suddenly he stood up and sharply said, looking past and over me:
"go out! there is no need of more. . . ."i swung round and saw captain veseloffsky with his white, coldface. i had not heard him enter. he did a formal "about face" andpassed out of the door.
"'death from the white man' has stood behind me," i thought; "buthas it quite left me?"the baron stood thinking for some time and then began to speak injumbled, unfinished phrases.
"i ask your pardon. . . . you must understand there are so manytraitors! honest men have disappeared. i cannot trust anybody.
all names are false and assumed; documents are counterfeited. eyesand words deceive. . . . all is demoralized, insulted bybolshevism. i just ordered colonel philipoff cut down, he whocalled himself the representative of the russian whiteorganization. in the lining of his garments were found two secretbolshevik codes. . . . when my officer flourished his sword overhim, he exclaimed: 'why do you kill me, tavarische?' i cannottrust anybody. . . ."he was silent and i also held my peace.
"i beg your pardon!" he began anew. "i offended you; but i am notsimply a man, i am a leader of great forces and have in my head somuch care, sorrow and woe!"in his voice i felt there was mingled despair and sincerity. hefrankly put out his hand to me. again silence. at last ianswered:
"what do you order me to do now, for i have neither counterfeit norreal documents? but many of your officers know me and in urga ican find many who will testify that i could be neither agitatornor. . .""no need, no need!" interrupted the baron. "all is clear, all isunderstood! i was in your soul and i know all. it is the truthwhich hutuktu narabanchi has written about you. what can i do foryou?"i explained how my friend and i had escaped from soviet russia inthe effort to reach our native land and how a group of polishsoldiers had joined us in the hope of getting back to poland; and iasked that help be given us to reach the nearest port.
"with pleasure, with pleasure. . . . i will help you all," heanswered excitedly. "i shall drive you to urga in my motor car.
tomorrow we shall start and there in urga we shall talk aboutfurther arrangements."taking my leave, i went out of the yurta. on arriving at myquarters, i found colonel kazagrandi in great anxiety walking upand down my room.
"thanks be to god!" he exclaimed and crossed himself.
his joy was very touching but at the same time i thought that thecolonel could have taken much more active measures for thesalvation of his guest, if he had been so minded. the agitation ofthis day had tired me and made me feel years older. when i lookedin the mirror i was certain there were more white hairs on my head.
at night i could not sleep for the flashing thoughts of the young,fine face of colonel philipoff, the pool of blood, the cold eyes ofcaptain veseloffsky, the sound of baron ungern's voice with itstones of despair and woe, until finally i sank into a heavy stupor.
i was awakened by baron ungern who came to ask pardon that he couldnot take me in his motor car, because he was obliged to takedaichin van with him. but he informed me that he had leftinstructions to give me his own white camel and two cossacks asservants. i had no time to thank him before he rushed out of myroom.
sleep then entirely deserted me, so i dressed and began smokingpipe after pipe of tobacco, as i thought: "how much easier tofight the bolsheviki on the swamps of seybi and to cross the snowypeaks of ulan taiga, where the bad demons kill all the travelersthey can! there everything was simple and comprehensible, but hereit is all a mad nightmare, a dark and foreboding storm!" i feltsome tragedy, some horror in every movement of baron ungern, behindwhom paced this silent, white-faced veseloffsky and death.
