“No,” said I, “that will not do. The thing is too serious to be determined by myself; for it concerns others as well.”
They agreed with me and we parted. That night I was seated all alone in my room at the Treasury Minister’s and quietly entered into the silent contemplation and tried to find the best course to be taken. After some time I reached the ‘world of non-Ego,’ and the judgment was: “If I stay in this country it will be harmful to the people, whether I present the appeal or not; and on the other hand if I leave the country, it is no great loss to these people.” Thus I came to the conclusion to leave the country, though it was not quite decided whether or not I should present the letter to the Pope before leaving.
Early on the next morning (27th of May) I called on Ganden Ti Rinpoche, and asked him to give me his judgment, simply stating that I was going on a pilgrimage. The master with a smiling face judged for me and said: “The sick people who (you say) are suffering, will get better by your going on a pilgrimage. But by the sick people you do not mean the bodily patients, do you? It may mean that if you stay here, other doctors in Lhasa cannot live, and so you are going to save them by your departure?”
He gave his judgment half in joke, but I thought the teacher was intelligent enough to perceive that I was leaving the country never to come back. I heard there were many great Lamas in Tibet, but he was surely the most respectable priest of all with whom I became acquainted. This was the last time I saw this venerable teacher.
[CHAPTER LXXXI.]
My Benefactor’s Noble Offer.
That day I returned to the Treasury Minister’s with a determination to tell the secret to him. But it was the 22nd of May and the Pope was to come back to Lhasa from his country-seat at Norbu Ling. The ex-Minister had gone out to see the Pope return, and I was also obliged to go, though I had many things to do for myself. The procession of the day was magnificent. The four Prime Ministers and the Ministers of several departments and other dignitaries were present, all dressed in new suits of clothes. But before the Pope arrived in Lhasa it had begun to rain heavily. Still no one but the servants and coachmen were allowed to wear anything to protect themselves against the rain. It was a pitiful sight to see the dignitaries dressed in silk on horse-back in the rain, getting wet through. But when the procession marched along the streets of Lhasa and the Pope entered his temple, the storm had passed, and it was fine again. When we got home I asked the ex-Minister and the nun to stay at home that evening, for I was going to tell them a secret which must not be spoken in the presence of others. The nun had treated me with motherly tenderness, and though we had been friends only for one year, yet our acquaintance seemed age-long, and I felt I ought to tell my secret to her and the ex-Minister, to whom I owed so much. It was certain that I must leave Lhasa, but how could I leave them without telling them all?
When night came, I called on them at the appointed time and told them that I was not a Chinese but a Japanese. Thinking, however, that they would not believe me I set before them the passport which I had taken with me. As the ex-Minister had learned to read Chinese characters a little, he could read that part of the paper signed “Department for Foreign Affairs of the Japanese Empire” in Chinese characters. Assuring himself that I had told the truth, he said:
