r
refusing the succulent morsel he gave a sigh of relief and wolfed it
himself. One of the men on board had a fiddle, and played us across the
lake. Some one said, "Give us the Merry Widow."

He shook his head.

"Come on," said his tempter, "there's no one here. Give it us." At last,
looking at Miss Petrovitch and us, the musician timidly started the
music, for the "Merry Widow" is "straffed" in Montenegro as one of the
characters is a caricature of Prince Danilo, hence everybody plays it
with gusto in private.

We came again to Plavnitza. A huge crowd of Turks were waiting for us;
one wild befezzed ruffian had a concertina and was capering to his own
strains.

We were suddenly disturbed, the box was wrested away, the bundles also,
the bed was carried off, also a tin dish too small for a bath, too big
for a basin, and a tin watering pot--the bride's trousseau. The bride
was seized by two men, her brothers we were told, and carried up the
stairs to a waiting brougham, the trousseau was piled upon a bullock
cart, and shouting and singing and dancing the _cortege_ moved out of
sight.

At Virbazar the steamer could not come to the quay, so the authorities
ran a five-inch rounded tree trunk from the boat to the mud. Many dared
the perilous crossing, and one nearly fell into the water. Dr. Ob was
furious, and at last a plank was substituted. Then we found that the
only way off the mud was by clambering round a corner of wall on some
shaky stepping stones. Dr. Ob fumed, his little round face grew rounder,
his moustache went up and down, he threatened everybody with instant
execution, like the Red Queen in "Alice." Then he found that no motor
was awaiting us. He rushed to the telephone while we had a belated
lunch. No motors; one was out taking the Serbian officers for a
joy-ride; Prince Peter had taken the other to Antivari. Montenegro
seemed to have no more. We soothed ourselves with "American" grapes.
This grape tastes not unlike strawberries and cream, but not having the
same sentimental associations, does not come off quite as well. We heard
a motor coming. Dr. Ob ran out to intercept it. It was crammed. Then
the telephone boy brought a message that Prince Peter's motor would not
return till to-morrow.

Miss Petrovitch wrung her hands.

"We cannot stay here the night," she said.

"Are the bugs awful?" we asked.

"It's not the bugs, it's those dreadful women," she answered. "We shall
all be murdered in our beds