oda. It was stormy, and great gusts of wind and
rain dashed round the rocky fortress, and in the distance a rugged
pile of mountain peaks towered up into the descending mist.

The widow left us, and, kneeling at the grave, quietly kissed the cold
stones, praying for a few moments in deep silence. Not a man spoke or
moved as we stood with bared heads and waited. Slowly rising, she came
to us and led us into the chapel, a bare shell, not even furnished
with an altar, and with the original earthen floor.

"My beloved husband wished to be buried in here," said the widow, "but
it was not allowed. The Prince wished him to be buried in Podgorica,
as he was never courtier and was so beloved and honoured by his
people--more than the Prince himself. But my husband called me to his
side, and with his last breath made me swear to bury him in this
chapel, or at least in front of it. And when the order came that he
should be buried below, I swore to shoot myself on his grave, and the
men of Kuc swore to take his body up here, even if they had to fight
every inch of the way. So it was allowed that he should be buried
here, but we shall bury him in the chapel, for that I promised him as
he died."

And she took my hand solemnly in hers, illustrating her oath to the
dying man, and I shivered in that gloomy chamber as her impassioned
voice echoed in its arches.

Suddenly a wailing of women broke upon the utter silence which ensued,
and nearer and nearer came that weird singing as it approached the
summit. The women were chanting Marko's death dirge. At last, as they
passed the little window, we went outside and saw four women,
dishevelled and weeping, approach the grave, kneeling on one side. The
widow left us again and knelt alone opposite.

One woman only sang at a time, a series of extempore verses telling of
the life and deeds of the hero--his accomplishments and goodness--in
the poetical language of this wild people.

"Oh, thou grey falcon, who was so mighty a hunter as thou?"

"Who indeed shall now wield thy bloodstained sword?"

"Oh, thou wolf, who is worthy to take thy place as our ruler and
father?"

And the others beat their breasts and tore their hair, wailing in a
wild unison, until the singer was exhausted and then another began.

Here and there a deep sob broke from a man, but otherwise the ring of
men with bowed heads remained in dead silence and immovable as the
rocks around them.

It was one of the most impr