again in the midst of the multitude who surround you.”
The Master of the Law, after having long fixed his gaze upon Te-hoeï, the sub-
director of the convent (Karmmadana), raised his right hand to his chin and his
left upon his breast; then he stretched out his legs, crossed them, and lay down
on the right side.
He remained thus, immovable, without taking anything, until the fifth day of the
second moon. In the middle of the night his disciples asked him:
“Master, have you at length obtained to be born in the midst of the assembly of
Maitrêya?”
“Yes,” he replied, with a failing voice. And having spoken, his breathing grew
rapidly weaker, and in a few moments, his soul passed away.
His servants, feeling quietly, found that his feet were already cold, but that the
back part of the head retained its warmth.
On the seventh day (of the second moon) his countenance had not undergone
any alteration, and his body exhaled no odour.
The religious of the convent having passed several days in prayers, it was not
until the morning of the ninth day that the sad news reached the capital.
The Master of the Law was seven tchi high; his face was of a fresh complexion.
His eyebrows were wide apart, his eyes brilliant. His air was grave and majestic,
and his features were full of grace and vivacity. The quality or tone (timbre) of
his voice was pure and penetrating, and his language at times soared to a lofty
eloquence, so noble and so harmonious that one could not refuse to listen. When
he was surrounded by his disciples, or animated by the presence of an illustrious
guest, he would often speak for half-a-day, while his hearers sat riveted in an
immovable attitude. His favourite attire was a robe of fine cotton stuff,
proportioned to his height and figure; his gait was light and easy; he looked
straight before him, throwing his glances neither to the right nor to the left. He
was majestic as those great rivers which embrace the earth; calm and shining as
the lotus which springs in the midst of the waters. A severe observer of
discipline, he was unchanged and unchangeable. Nothing could equal his