nd we explained at length.

When we reached the hotel again our old hostess bustled up, more sugary
than ever.

"We have just thought of a little rearrangement," she said.

"How so?"

"Well, do you understand, the inn is very full to-night, so we thought
it best that you should both take the one bed and I and my daughter
will take the other."

"Oh," said we, "in that case we had better move altogether, we have
anoth--"

"Indeed, no no," said the old lady, horrified. "Stay, stay. There sit
down. It is good, keep your beds." She patted us and left us.

We had an uninspired dinner. Greasy soup, tough boiled meat which had
produced the soup, minced boiled meat in pepper pods, and two pears
which turned out to be bad. The company, composed of officers and
nondescripts, pleased us no better than the dinner, so we decided to eat
elsewhere on the morrow.

The governor's secretary came in to arrange for an interview with his
chief--yet another Petrovitch and brother to the governor of Scutari. By
this time we had each imbibed a dozen Turkish coffees during the day,
but we slept for all that from nine until nine in the morning.

Marko Petrovitch, whom we saw early, was the best and last Petrovitch we
met in Montenegro. Like all the Petrovitches he wore national costume.
He was handsome, shy, and kindly, said we must go to Dechani the most
famous of Balkan monasteries, and promised us a cart for the journey.

After leaving the governor we plunged into melodrama.

Hearing a noise we discovered crowds of weeping women and children round
the steps of a shop. A young man in French fireman's uniform seemed to
be very active, and an old trousered woman passively rolled down the
steps after receiving a box on the ears.

We thought it was a policeman arresting an elderly thief; but Jo, seeing
blood on the lady's face, told him he was a "bad man." He lurched,
staring at her stupidly. His companions, more firemen, came forward
grinning sheepishly, and we recommended them to lead him away out of
mischief. But the next minute a balloon-trousered child rushed up to us
and tugged at Jan's coat.

"Quick, the devil man is doing more bad things."

We ran down the road beyond the village and saw him in the distance
dancing on an old Turk's bare feet with hobnailed boots, alternating
this amusement with cuffs on the face. We sprinted along, and seeing a
convenient little river wriggling along by the roadside, Jan caught him
by the