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 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 4^ ^AA
 
 Herbert Shepton, 
 Buxton.
 
 .IWrCvV^'k-lJ^ 
 
 THE POBRATIM 
 
 A SLAV NOVEL
 
 THE POBRATIM 
 
 A SLAV NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 PROF. P. JONES 
 
 LONDON 
 
 H. S. XICHOJ-b 
 
 j SOHO SQUARE and (,2" PICCADILLY \V 
 
 M1JCCC.\C\' 
 
 lAll Rights Re set- veil.]
 
 Printed and Piihlislicd by 
 
 H. S. NICHOLS 
 AT 3, SOHO SQUARF, LONDON, \V
 
 PR 
 482.9 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS HIGHNESS 
 PRINCE NICHOLAS OF MOXTENECxRO 
 
 Tins BOOK IS IIUMP.lv nEOICATED. 
 
 r JONES 
 
 Trikstk, 
 1.7th June, 1895. 
 
 ^ jO ,^ 7? -Cn:' ■"
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 St. John's E\ii ....... . i 
 
 The Bond of Fuih.ndship ....... 23 
 
 Christmas Eve ......... 43 
 
 New Ye.^^k's Day ......... 62 
 
 Duck Shooting at Nona ....... So 
 
 The Bullin-Most yo 
 
 Se.xagesima ..... ..... 107 
 
 MUKUEK 131 
 
 The Havuuk .......... 154 
 
 Pkince Mathias ......... 174 
 
 Manslaughter ......... 190 
 
 Margaret of Loruu 211 
 
 Starigrau ....... . . 229 
 
 The "Karvarina" ........ 243 
 
 ,\ Coward's Vengeance 259 
 
 The Vampire 277 
 
 The Face in the Mirror ....... 296 
 
 The Convent of St. George . . . . . 311 
 
 The " Karva T.\jstvo" 325 
 
 " Si'ERA IN Dio " ......... 344 
 
 Flight ........... 350 
 
 The "GiusTiziA ui Dio " ....... 367 
 
 The Wedding 387
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ST. John's eve 
 
 There was quite a bustle at Budua, because Janko Markovic 
 and Milos Bellacic had just come back from Cattaro that very 
 morning, and — what was really surprising — ^they were both 
 getting shaved. 
 
 Now, it has always been a most uncommon occurrence 
 amongst us for a man to get shaved on a Friday. 
 
 Mind, I do not mean to say that I consider this operation 
 as being in any way unlucky if performed on that day. We, 
 of course, cut our hair during the new moon ; but there is no 
 special time for shaving. Cutting one's nails on a Saturday 
 brings on illnesses, as we all know ; and I, without being 
 superstitious, can name you lots of people who fell ill simply 
 out of disregai-d to the wisdom of their elders. Nay, I myself 
 once suffered a dreadful toothache for having thoughtlessly 
 pared my nails on the last Saturday of the year. 
 
 Shaving on Saturday, however, cannot be considered as 
 harmful either to the body or to the soul. Still, as we all 
 go to the barber's once a week, on Sunday morning, it has 
 hitherto been regarded as part of our dominical duties. 
 
 There was, therefore, some particular reason that made 
 these prominent citizens shave on a Friday ; could the 
 reason be another change in the Government ? 
 
 Quite a little crowd had gathered, by ones and by twos, 
 round the hairdresser's shop ; some were standing, others 
 sitting, some smoking, others eating dried melon seeds — all 
 were gravely looking at the barber, who was holding Bellacic 
 by the tip of his nose and was scraping his cheek with a 
 razor which kept making a sharp, stridulous noise as it cut 
 
 I
 
 2 POBRA TIM 
 
 down the crisp, wiry stubble hair of almost a week's growth. 
 Then the shaver left the nose, for, as a tuft of hair in a 
 hollow spot under the cheek-bone was renitent to the steel 
 blade, he poked his thumb in his customer's mouth, swelled 
 out the sunken spot and cleaned it beautifully. He was 
 a real artist, who took a pride in doing his work neatly. He 
 then wiped the ends on his finger, cast the soap to the 
 ground with a jerk and a snap, then he rubbed his hand on 
 the head of an urchin standing by. 
 
 The barber, who was as inquisitive and as loquacious as 
 all the Figaros of larger towns, had tried craftily and with 
 many an ambage to get at the information we were all so 
 anxious to know ; but nothing seemed to induce our clients 
 to speak. 
 
 " I suppose," said he, with a pleasant smile, " I'll soon 
 have new customers to shave ? " 
 
 " Yes ? Who ? " quoth Markovic. 
 
 " Why, your sons, Uros and Milenko." 
 
 " No, not yet ; they'll not be back before some months." 
 
 All conjectures and guesses, all suppositions and surmises 
 were at last at an end. The barber, although he had been 
 a long time about it, had finished shaving Bellacic ; Markovic 
 was now sitting down with the towel tied round his neck. 
 
 " This afternoon we start for Cettinje," said Bellacic, 
 wiping himself. 
 
 An " Ah I " of satisfaction and expectation was followed 
 by a moment of breathless silence. The barber stopped 
 soaping his client's face and turned to look at Bellacic. 
 
 " On a diplomatic mission, of course ? " he asked, in a 
 hollow whisper. 
 
 " On a diplomatic mission." 
 
 " To the Vladika, eh ? " 
 
 Everj^one looked significantly at his neighbour, some twisted 
 their long moustaches, others instinctively lifted their hands 
 to the hafts of their knives. They all seemed to say : " It is 
 what we have been suspecting from the very beginning. 
 Montenegro will take back Cattaro and Budua." Thereupon 
 every face brightened. 
 
 It was natural to surmise such a thing in those times, inas- 
 much as in the course of a few years we had been shifting 
 from hand to hand. The French had taken us from the 
 Venetians; then we became Russians; the English drove the
 
 POBRATIM 3 
 
 Cossacks away, and gave us over to the Austrians, our present 
 masters. 
 
 " Of course, nobody goes to Cettinje without doing homage 
 to the Vladika. Still, our mission is not to the Prince." 
 
 We all looked at Bellacic and at Markovic in blank 
 astonishment. 
 
 "You might as well tell them," said one of the friends to 
 the other. " Besides, it is a thing that all the town will 
 know in a few days." 
 
 "Well," quoth Markovic, "our mission is not a political 
 one. We are deputed by Radonic " 
 
 " By Radonic ? " interrupted the shaver. " But he is not 
 in Budua." 
 
 " No, he is at Perasto with his ship. We saw him at 
 Cattaro." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " And he is going to get married." 
 
 " Married ? " 
 
 " But he is too old," said a j^outh, without thinking. 
 
 " We have only the age we look," retorted an elderly man, 
 snappishly. 
 
 " Well, but Radonic looks old," answered the young man, 
 
 " But to whom is he going to be married ? " 
 
 " To Milena." 
 
 " What ! Milena Zwillievic ? " 
 
 " Exactly ; to the prettiest girl of Montenegro 1 " 
 
 Many a young face fell, more than one brow grew cloudy, 
 and a bright eye got dim. 
 
 •' It is an impossible marriage," said someone. 
 
 " A rich husband, a horned bull," quoth another. 
 
 " But he is much older than she is." 
 
 " We marry our sons when we like, and our daughters when 
 we can," added Figaro, sententiously. 
 
 " Still, how could Zwillievic consent to take for his son-in-law 
 a man as old as himself ? " 
 
 " A hero of the Kolo." 
 
 "And yet Zwillievic is a man with a gold head, a wise 
 man." 
 
 " Yes, but he has also gold hands," replied Markovic. 
 
 "He did not follow the proverb—" added Bellacic, "'Con- 
 sult your purse, then buy.' His passion for arms ruined him ; 
 debts must be paid." 
 
 I — 2
 
 4 POBRATIM 
 
 " We were once on board the same ship with Radonic," said 
 one of the friends ; " so he asked me to be the Stari-Svat." 
 
 "And I," added the other, "as Zwillievic is a kinsman of 
 mine, I must be voivoda.^' 
 
 " Ah, poor Milena ! the year will be a black one to her." 
 
 "After all, she'll henceforth be able to sit in flour." 
 
 "And we all have our Black Fridays." 
 
 By this time Markovic had been shaved, the two friends 
 wended their way homewards, and the crowd dispersed. 
 
 "And now," you evidently ask, "who is this Milos Bellacic 
 and his friend, Janko Markovic ? " 
 
 Two well-to-do citizens of Budua, the last of all Austrian 
 towns, two gospodje, but, unlike most of the Buduans and the 
 other Dalmatians, they were real lugo-Slavs, lUyrians of the 
 great Serbian stock. 
 
 As children they had clung to one another on account of the 
 friendship that existed between their fathers ; as they grew 
 older this feeling, of almost kinship, was strengthened by 
 the many trials they had to undergo in common, for Fate 
 seemed to have spun their lives out of the selfsame yarn. At 
 fourteen they had left home, on a schooner bound for distant 
 coasts ; later, they got shipwrecked, and swam — or rather 
 they were washed — ashore, clinging to the same plank. Thus 
 they suffered cold, hunger, "the whips and scorns of time" 
 together. 
 
 From America, where they had been cast by the waves, 
 they worked their way to Trieste, hoping from thence to return 
 to their native place, ever dear to their hearts. This ill wind, 
 so fatal, not only to the ship, but to the remainder of the crew, 
 proved to be the young men's fortune. Trieste was, at the 
 time, in the very beginning of its mushroom growth, before that 
 host of adventurers had flocked thither from every part of the 
 world with the hopes of making money. 
 
 It is not to be wondered that, after the hard life these young 
 men had undergone, they understood the full strength of the 
 Italian proverb — " Praise the sea, but keep to the shore." 
 Sober and hard-working as they were, they made up their 
 minds to try and acquire by trade what they could hardly get 
 by a rough seafaring life — their daily bread and a little money 
 for their old age. 
 
 Strongly built, they started life as porters. Like beasts of 
 burden, they were harnessed to a cart the whole of the long
 
 POBRA TIM 5 
 
 summer days, or else they helped to unload the ships that 
 came in port. 
 
 Having managed to scrape a little money together, they 
 began to trade on their own account. They imported from 
 Dalmatia, wine, sardines, carobs, and castradina, or smoked 
 mutton ; they exported cotton goods. They got to be share- 
 holders, and then owners, of a bark, a trabacolo. The times 
 were good ; there was, as yet, little or no competition; therefore 
 money begot money, and, though they could neither read nor 
 write, still they soon found themselves the owners of a sum of 
 money which — to them — was unlimited wealth. Had they 
 remained in Trieste, they might have got to be millionaires, 
 but they loved their birthplace even more than they did 
 riches. 
 
 Once again in Budua, they added a good many acres of vine- 
 yards and of olive-trees to their paternal farms, and, from that 
 time, they lived there in all the contentment this world can 
 afford. They married, but, strange to say, they were not 
 blessed with many children ; each of them had only one son. 
 Janko's son was, after his friend, named Milenko ; the other 
 infant was christened Uros. 
 
 These two children are the pobratim of our story. 
 
 " But what is the meaning of this strange word ? " you ask. 
 
 Have but a little patience, and it will be explained to you 
 in due time. 
 
 Uros and Milenko had inherited with their blood that 
 friendship which had bound their fathers and forefathers 
 before them. As children, they belonged to either mother, 
 and they often slept together in the same trough-like cradle 
 scooped out of the trunk of a tree ; they ate out of the 
 same zdila — the huge wooden porringer which served the 
 family as table dish and plates ; they drank out of the same 
 biikara, or wooden bottle, for, being rich and having vineyards 
 of their own, wine was never wanting at their meals. 
 
 At fourteen they, like their fathers, went off to sea, for 
 lads must know something of the world. Happily, however, 
 they both came back to Budua after a cruise of some 
 months. Though they met with many squalls, still they 
 never came to any grief. 
 
 As a rule they staid away cruising about the Adriatic and 
 the Levant from November to the month of August ; but when 
 the harvest-time drew nigh, they returned home, where hands
 
 6 POBRATIM 
 
 were wanted to reap and garner such fruits as the rich soil 
 had yielded. After the vintage was over and the olives 
 gathered, the earth was left bare ; then they set off with the 
 swallows, though not always for warmer climes. It was the 
 time when sudden gales blow fiercely, when the crested 
 waves begin to roll and the sea is most stormy. 
 
 A few months after that memorable Friday upon which 
 Bellacic and Markovic had got shaved, exciting thereby every- 
 body's astonishment, they themselves were surprised to see 
 their sons return unexpectedly. The fact was that, upon 
 reaching Cattaro, the ship on which they had embarked was 
 sold and all the crew were paid oif. As they did not think 
 it worth their while to look for another ship, they seized this 
 opportunity to go and spend the 24th of May at home, for 
 St. John's is " the maddest, merriest day of all the glad 
 New Year." Moreover, they were lucky, for the year before 
 had been a plentiful one, whilst the new crops promised, 
 even now, to make the pojata groan under their weight ; for 
 whilst an empty and a scanty larder can afford but a sorry 
 welcome, a hospitable man becomes even lavish when his 
 casks are full of wine, his bins are heaped with corn, his 
 jars overflow with oil ; when, added to this, there is a 
 prospect of more. 
 
 Uros and Milenko had but just arrived home when a 
 little boy — the youngest son of a wealthy neighbour, whose 
 name's day was on the morrow — appeared on the threshold 
 of their door, and, taking off his little cap demurely, said, in 
 a solemn voice : 
 
 " Yours is the house of God. My father greets you, and 
 asks you to come and drink a glass of wine with him. We'll 
 chat to while away the evening hours, and we'll not with- 
 hold from you the good things St. John, our patron saint, 
 has sent us." 
 
 Having recited his invitation, the little herald bowed and 
 went off to bear his message elsewhere. 
 
 The family, who knew that this invitation was forthcoming, 
 set off at once for their friend's house. Upon reaching the 
 gate of their host's garden, all the men fired off their pistols 
 as a sign of joy, amongst the shouts of ^' Zivio'' ; then, upon 
 entering, they went up to the Starescina, the master of the 
 house, and wished him, in God's name, many happy re- 
 turns of the day.
 
 POBRA TIM 7 
 
 A goodly crowd of people had now gathered together, all 
 bent upon merry-making, and a fine evening they had of it ; 
 though, according to the old men, this was but moping 
 compared to the festivities they had been used to in their 
 youth. Then, hosts and guests being jolly together, they 
 quite forgot that time had wings, and eight days would 
 sometimes pass before anybody thought of leave-taking. 
 
 On that mystic evening almost all the amusements had 
 an allegorical or weird character. In every game there was 
 an attempt at divination. Thus the first one that was played 
 consisted in throwing a garland amidst the branches of a 
 tree. If it remained caught at the first throw, the owner 
 was to get married during the j'ear ; if not, the number of 
 times the wreath was tossed upwards corresponded with as 
 many years of patient waiting. It was considered a bad 
 omen if the garland came to pieces. 
 
 When Uros threw his chaplet of flowers up it came at 
 once down again, bringing an old wreath that the wind and 
 the winter storms had respected. 
 
 " Why," said the Starescina, turning to Milena, who had 
 come to witness the game, " surely it is your husband's 
 wreath ! " 
 
 " Yes, I remember," added Markovic ; " last year Radonic 
 was with us, and his garland remained in the tree the first 
 time he flung it up." 
 
 " Oh, Uros, fie ! you'll bring Radonic ill-luck yet." 
 Uros turned round, and his eyes met those of Milena for 
 the first time. Both blushed. There were a few moments of 
 awkward silence, and then the young man, touching his cap, 
 said : 
 
 " I am sorry, gospa, but, of course, I did not do it on 
 purpose." 
 
 " No, surely not, and, besides, it had to come down sooner 
 or later." 
 
 He tossed his wreath up again, but whether he felt nervous 
 because he had been laughed at, or because the beautiful 
 eyes of the young Montenegrine woman paralysed his arm, 
 he felt himself so clumsy and awkward that he tossed up 
 his garland several times, but he only succeeded to batter 
 it as it came down again. 
 
 "Just let me try once," said Milenko to his friend, as he 
 cast his wreath up in the branches of the tree, where it nestled.
 
 8 POBRATIM 
 
 Uros made another attempt ; down came his garland, 
 bringing his friend's together with it, amid the general 
 laughter. 
 
 " Uros is like the dog in the manger," said one of the by- 
 standers ; " he will not marry, nor does he wish other people 
 to do so." 
 
 " Bad luck and a bad omen ! " whispered an old crony to 
 Milenko. " Beware of your friend ; nor, if I were Radonic, 
 should I trust my pretty wife with him. Bad luck and a bad 
 omen ! " 
 
 After garland throwing, huge bonfires were kindled, and 
 the surrounding mountains gleamed with many lights. It 
 was, indeed, a fine sight to see the high, heaven-kissing 
 flames reflected by the dark waters of the blue Adriatic. 
 
 But of all the bonfires in the neighbourhood, the Starescina' s 
 was the biggest, for he was one of the richest men of the 
 town. It was thus no easy matter to jump scathless over 
 it. Still, young and old did manage to do so, either when 
 the flames — chasing one another — leapt up to the sky, or 
 else when the fire began to burn low. The stillness of the 
 night was interrupted by prolonged shouts of "Zivio!'' repeated 
 again and again by the echoes of the neighbouring mountains ; 
 but amidst the shouting of " Long life ! " you could hear the 
 hooting of some owl scared by this unusual glimmering light, 
 and every now and then the shrill crj' of some witch or some 
 other ghostly wanderer of the night, and the suppressed 
 groaning and gnashing of teeth of evil spirits, disappointed 
 to think that so many sturdy lads and winsome lassies should 
 escape their clutches for a whole year ; for they have no 
 power against all those who jump over these hallowed bon- 
 fires on the eve of the mystic saint's day. 
 
 " There, did you hear ? " said one of the young girls, 
 shuddering. Thereupon we all crossed ourselves devoutly. 
 
 " It is better not to think of them, they cannot come near 
 us," said the Starescina. 
 
 " It is not long ago that we saw three witches burnt at 
 Zavojane. When was it, Bellacic ? " 
 
 '• It was in 1823, in the month of August, on the 3rd, if 
 I remember rightly." 
 
 " Oh ! then they were real witches ? " 
 
 •' Of course." 
 
 " Were they very ugly ? Had they beards ? "
 
 POBRATIM ' 9 
 
 " Oh, no ! they were very much Uke all the other elderly 
 women of the place." 
 
 " And what had they done ? " 
 
 " No end of mischief. One of them had eaten a child 
 alive. Another had taken a young man's heart out of his 
 body whilst he was asleep. He, on awaking — not knowing 
 what had happened to him — felt a great void in his chest." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Milena, compassionately, whilst her 
 glances fell on Uros, and he actually felt like the young 
 man who had lost his heart. 
 
 " But what was she going to do with it ? " 
 
 " Why, roast and eat it." 
 
 " A friar who had witnessed the whole thing, but who had 
 been deprived of all power of rendering assistance, accused 
 her of witchcraft, and she was made to give back the heart 
 before she had had time to devour it." 
 
 " How wonderful ! " 
 
 " The third had rendered all the balls of the guns aimless, 
 and all weapons blunt and useless. But these are only some 
 of the many evils the}- had done." 
 
 " And you saw them burnt ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the presence of the Catholic parish priest, two 
 friars and all the local authorities." 
 
 The bonfires were now over, and nothing but the glowing 
 embers remained. All then went in the house to partake of 
 the many good things that St. John, or his namesake, had 
 prepared for them. 
 
 There was for supper : first, whole lambs, roasted on the 
 spit, then fish, castradina, and many other dishes, all more or 
 less stuffed with garlic — a condiment which never fails any- 
 where. It is said that the gods, having been asked if this 
 bulb was to rank amongst eatables, decreed that no dish 
 should ever remain without it ; and the Slavs have faithfully 
 followed out their decree. 
 
 When all had eaten till they were crop full, and had drunk 
 their fill, they all raught after their meat as seemly as Madame 
 Eglentine ; then, loosening their belts, they remained seated 
 on their stools, or squatted on the ground, chatting, punning, 
 telling anecdotes, or listening to the grave discourses of the 
 old men about St. John. 
 
 "Fancy," said a deacon of a neighbouring church, "when 
 we have fasted for a day or two, we think we have done
 
 lo POBRA TIM 
 
 much. St. John, instead, fasted for fort)- days and forty 
 nights, without even taking a sip of water." 
 
 " But why did he fast so long ? " 
 
 " Because he had committed a great sin ; and on account 
 of tliis sin he always walked with his head bent down. When 
 the people said to him, ' John, why do you not lift up your 
 head ? ' he always replied demurely, ' Because I am not worthy 
 to lift up m}' eyes heavenwards ; and I shall only do so when 
 an infant, that cannot yet speak, will bid me do it.' Now, it 
 happened that one day John met a young woman carrying a 
 little child, and when the infant saw John, he said: 'John, 
 lift up thine eyes heavenward ; my Father has forgiven thee.' 
 The saint, in great joy, knowing that the babe was Jesus 
 Christ, went at once home ; and with a red-hot iron he burnt 
 the initials of the Saviour on his side, so that he might never 
 forget his name." 
 
 " And now let's have a story," said the host. 
 
 As Milos Bellacic was noted for his skill in relating a good 
 story, he was asked by everybody to tell them one of his very 
 best tales. 
 
 Being a man who had travelled, he knew how to treat 
 women with more deference than the remainder of the 
 Buduans. So turning towards his host's wife : 
 
 " Which will you have ? " said he. 
 
 " Any one you like." 
 
 " ' Hussein and Ayesha ' ? " 
 
 " No," said some. "Yes," added the others, without waiting 
 for the lady of the house to have her choice. 
 
 "Then 'The Death of Fair Jurecevic's Lovers'?" 
 
 " No, that was an old story." 
 
 " Perhaps, ' The Loves of Adelin the Turk and Mary the 
 Christian ' ? " 
 
 "They all knew it." 
 
 " Or, ' Marko Kraglievic and the Vila' ? " 
 
 " No, leave Marko to the giizlari.'" 
 
 " Well, then, it must be ' The Story of Jella and the 
 Macic' " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the gospodina, " I once heard it in my child- 
 hood, and now I only remember its name. Still, I have 
 always had a longing to hear it again ; therefore, do tell it." 
 
 Milos Bellacic swallowed another glass of slivovitz, leaving, 
 however, a few drops at the bottom of his glass, which he
 
 POBRATIM II 
 
 spilt on the floor as a compliment to the Starescina, showing 
 thereby that in his house there was not only enough and to 
 spare, but even to be wasted. He then took a long pull at 
 the amber mouthpiece of his long Marasca cherry pipe, let 
 the smoke rise quietly and curl about his nose, and, after 
 clearing his throat, began as follows : 
 
 THE STORY OF JELLA AND THE MAGIC. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived in a village of Crivoscie an 
 old man and his wife ; they had one fair daughter and no 
 more. This girl was beyond all doubt the prettiest maiden of 
 the place. She was as beautiful as the rising sun, or the new 
 moon, or as a Vila ; so nothing more need be said about her 
 good looks. All the young men of the village and of the 
 neighbouring country were madly in love with her, though 
 she never gave them the slightest encouragement. 
 
 Being now of a marriageable age, she was, of course, asked 
 to every festivit}-. Still, being very demure, she would not 
 go anywhere, as neither her father nor her mother, who were 
 a sullen couple of stingy, covetous old fogeys, would accom- 
 pany her. 
 
 At last her parents, fearing lest she might remain an old 
 maid, and be a thorn rather than a comfort to them, insisted 
 upon her being a little more sociable, and go out of an evening 
 like the other girls. " Moreover, if some rich young man comes 
 courting you, be civil to him," said the mother. " For there 
 are still fools who will marry a girl for her pretty face," quoth 
 the father. It was, therefore, decided that the very next time 
 some neighbours gathered together to make merry, Jella should 
 take part in the festivity. " For how was she ever to find the 
 husband of her choice if she always remained shut up at 
 home ? " said the mother. 
 
 Soon afterwards, a feast in honour of some saint or other 
 happened to be given at the house of one of their wealthy 
 neighbours, so Jella decked herself out in her finest dress and 
 went. She was really beautiful that evening, for she wore a 
 gown of white wool, all embroidered in front with a wreath of 
 gay flowers, then an over-dress of the same material, the 
 sleeves of which were likewise richly stitched in silks of many 
 colours. Her belt was of some costly Byzantine stuff, all 
 purfled with gold threads. On her head she wore a red cap, 
 the headgear of the young Crivosciane.
 
 12 POBRA TIM 
 
 As she entered the room, all the young men flocked around 
 her to invite her to dance the Kolo with them, and to whisper 
 all kinds of pretty things to her. But she, blushing, refused 
 them all, declaring that she would not dance, elbowed her way 
 to a corner of the room, where she sat down quite alone. All 
 the young men soon came buzzing around her, like moths 
 round a candle, each one hoping to be fortunate enough to 
 become her partner. Anyhow, when the music struck up, 
 and the Kolo began, their toes were now itching, and one by 
 one they slunk away, and she, to her great joy, and the still 
 greater joy of the other girls, was left quite by herself. 
 
 While she was looking at the evolutions of the Kolo, she saw 
 a young stranger enter the room. Although he wore the dress 
 of the Kotor, he evidently was from some distant part of the 
 country. His clothes — made out of the finest stuffs, richly 
 braided and embroidered in gold — were trimmed with fihgree 
 buttons and bugles. The pas, or sash, he wore round his waist 
 was of crimson silk, woven with gold threads ; the wide 
 morocco girdle — the pripasnjaca — was purfled with lovely 
 arabesques ; his princely weapons, studded with precious 
 stones and damaskened, were numerous and costly. His 
 pipe, stuck not in his girdle like his arms, but 'twixt his 
 blue satin waistcoat — jacerma — and his shirt, had the hugest 
 amber mouthpiece that man had ever seen ; aye, the Czar 
 himself could not possibly have a finer pipe. What young 
 man, seeing that pipe with its silver mounting, adorned with 
 coral and turquoises, could help breaking the Tenth Com- 
 mandment ? He was, moreover, as handsome as a Made, 
 aye, as winsome as Puck. 
 
 He came in the room, doffed his cap to greet the company 
 like a well-bred young man, then set it pertly on his head 
 again. After that, he went about chatting with the lads, 
 flirting with the lassies, as if he had long been acquainted with 
 them, like a youth accustomed to good company. He did not 
 notice, however, poor Jella in her corner. He took no part in 
 the dances, probably because, every Jack having found his Jill, 
 there was nobody with whom he could dance. 
 
 The girls all looked slily at him, and many a one wished in 
 her heart that she had not been so hasty in choosing her 
 partner, nay, that she had remained a wallflower for that 
 night. 
 
 At last the young stranger wended his steps towards that
 
 POBRA TIM 13 
 
 corner where Jella was sitting alone, moping. He no sooner 
 caught sight of her than he went gracefully up, and, looking at 
 her with a merry twinkle in his eyes, and a most mischievous 
 smile upon his lips : 
 
 " And you, my pretty one ? Don't you dance this evening ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I never dance, either this evening or any other." 
 " And why not ? " 
 
 " Because there is not a single young man I care to dance 
 with." 
 
 " Oh, Jella ! " whispered the girls, "dance with him if he asks 
 you ; we should so much like to see how he dances." 
 
 " Then it would be useless asking you to dance the Kolo with 
 me, I suppose? " 
 
 "Oh, Jella! dance with him," whispered the young men; 
 " it would be an unheard-of rudeness to refuse dancing with a 
 stranger who has no partner." 
 
 " Even if I did not care about dancing, I should do so for the 
 sake of our village." 
 
 " Then you only dance with me that it might not be said : 
 ' He was welcomed with the sour lees of wine' ? " 
 " I dance with you because I choose to do so." 
 " Thank you, pretty one." 
 
 The two thereupon began to go through the maze of the 
 Kolo, and, as he twisted her round, they both moved so grace- 
 fully, keeping time to the music, that they looked like feathery 
 boughs swayed by the summer breeze. 
 
 About ten o'clock the dances came to an end, and every 
 youth, having gone to thank his host for the pleasant evening 
 he had passed, went off with his partner, laughing and chatting 
 all the way. 
 
 " And you, my lovely one, where do you live ? " asked the 
 stranger of Jella. 
 
 " In one of the very last houses of the village, quite at the 
 end of the lane." 
 
 " Will you allow me to see you home ? " 
 " If I am not taking you out of your way." 
 " Even if it were, it would be a pleasure for me." 
 Jella blushed, not knowing what to answer to so polite a 
 youth. 
 
 They, therefore, went off together, and in no time they 
 reached her house. Jella then bid the stranger good-bye.
 
 14 POBRA riM 
 
 and, standing on the door-step, she saw him disappear in 
 the darkness of the night. 
 
 Whither had he gone ? Which turning had he taken ? She 
 did not know. 
 
 A feeHng of deep sadness came over her ; for the first time 
 in her Hfe she felt a sense of bereavement and loneUness. 
 
 Would this handsome young man come back again ? She 
 almost felt like running after the stranger to ask him if they 
 would meet on the morrow, or, at least, after some days. 
 Being a modest girl, she, of course, could not do so ; more- 
 over, the youth had already disappeared. 
 
 " Did you bring me any cakes ? " was the mother's first 
 question, peevish at being awakened in her first sleep. 
 
 " Oh, no ! mati; I never ate a crumb of a cake myself." 
 
 " And you enjoyed yourself? " 
 
 " Oh ! very much so ; far more than I ever thought." 
 
 Thereupon she began to relate all that had happened, and 
 would have made a long description of the young man who 
 had danced with her, but her father woke in the midst of 
 a tough snore and bade her hold her tongue. 
 
 On the morrow there was again a party in the village, for 
 it was carnival, the time of the year when good folks make 
 merry. When night came on, Jella went to the dance with- 
 out needing to be much pressed by her parents. She was 
 anxious to know if the young stranger would be there, and, 
 also, if he would dance with her or with some other girl. 
 
 " Remember," said her mother to her as she was going 
 off, "do not dance with him 'like a fly without a head'; but 
 measure him from top to toe, and think how lucky it would 
 be if he, being well off, would marry a dowerless girl like 
 you. The whole village speaks of him, of his weapons and 
 his pipe ; still, he might be ' like a drop of water suspended on 
 a leaf,' without house or home. Therefore, remember to ques- 
 tion him as to his land, his castle, and so forth ; try and find 
 out if he is an only son and from where he comes, for ' Marry 
 with your ears and not with your eyes,' as the saying is." 
 
 "Anyhow, take this tobacco-pouch," added the old man, 
 " and offer it to him before he leaves you." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Jella, guilelessly. 
 
 " Because it is made out of a musk-rat, and so it will be 
 easy to follow him whithersoever he goes, even in the dark- 
 ness of the night."
 
 POBRATIM 15 
 
 Jella, being a simple kind of a girl, did not like the idea 
 of entrapping a young man ; moreover, if she admired the 
 stranger, it was for his good looks and his wit rather than 
 for his rich clothes ; but being frightened both of her father 
 and her mother, who had never had a kind word for her, 
 she promised to do as she was bidden. She then went to the 
 party, and there everything happened as upon the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 The girls all waited for the handsome young man to 
 make his appearance, and put off accepting partners till 
 the last moment, each one hoping that she might be the 
 chosen one. The hour upon which he had come the 
 evening before was now past, and still they all waited in 
 vain. The music had begun, and the young men, impatient 
 to be up and doing, were heavily beating time with their 
 feet. At last the Kolo began. They had just taken their 
 places, and all except Jella had forgotten the stranger, 
 when he all at once stepped into the room, bringing with 
 him a number of bottles of maraschino, and cakes over- 
 flowing with honey and stuffed with pistachios. 
 
 He, as upon the evening before, went round the room, 
 talking with the young men and teazing the prettiest girls. 
 Then he stepped up to Jella, and asked her to dance with 
 him. 
 
 The Kolo at last came to an end, the boys went off with 
 the girls, the old folks hobbled after them, and the unknown 
 youth, putting his arm round his partner's waist, as if he 
 had been engaged to her, accompanied her home. 
 
 They soon reached her house ; Jella then gave the stranger 
 the tobacco-pouch, and, having bid him good-night, she stood 
 forlorn on the door-step, to see him go off. No sooner had he 
 turned his back, than the father, who was holding the door 
 ajar and listening to every word they said, slipped out, like a 
 weasel, and followed him by the smell of his musk pouch. 
 
 The night was as still as it was dark, the moon had not yet 
 risen, a hushed silence seemed to have fallen over nature, and 
 not the slightest animal was heard stirring abroad. 
 
 The young fellow, after following the road for about a 
 hundred paces, left the highway and took a short cut across 
 the fields. The old man was astounded to see that, though a 
 stranger, he was quite familiar with the country, for he knew 
 not only what lane to take, but also what path to follow in the
 
 i6 POBRA TIM 
 
 darkness of the night, ahnost better than he did hunself. He 
 chinbed over walls, slipped through the gaps in the hedges, 
 leapt over ditches, just as if it had been broad daylight. 
 
 Jella's father had a great ado to follow him ; still, he managed 
 to hobble along, like an ungainly, bow-legged setter, as fast as 
 the other one capered. They crossed a wood, where the boles 
 of the trees had weird and fantastic shapes, where thorny twigs 
 clutched him by his clothes ; then they came out on a plain 
 covered with sharp flints, where huge scorpions lurked under 
 every stone. Afterwards they reached a blasted heath, where 
 nothing grew but gnarled, knotty, and twisted roots of trees, 
 which, by the dusky light of the stars, looked like huge snakes 
 and fantastical reptiles ; there, in the clumps of rank grass, the 
 horned vipers curled themselves. After this they crossed a 
 morass, amidst the croaking of the toads and the hooting of 
 owls, where unhallowed will-o'-the-wisps flitted around him. 
 
 The old man was now sorely frightened ; the country they 
 were crossing was quite unknown to him, and besides, it looked 
 like a spot cursed by God, and leading to a worse place still. 
 He began to lag. What was he to do ? — go back ? — he would 
 only flounder in the mire. He crossed himself, shut his eyes 
 tightly, and followed the smell of the musk. He thus walked 
 on for some time, shivering with fear as he felt a flapping of 
 wings near him, and ever and anon a draught of cold air made 
 him lose the scent he was following. 
 
 At last he stopped, hearing a loud creaking sound, a grating 
 stridulous noise, like that of the rusty hinges of some heavy 
 iron gate which was being closed just behind him. 
 
 A gate in the midst of a morass ! thought he ; where the 
 devil could he have come to ? As he uttered the ominous word 
 of Kudic he heard the earth groan under his feet. 
 
 It is a terrible thing to hear the earth groan ; it does so just 
 before an earthquake ! 
 
 He did not dare to open his eyes; he listened, awed, and 
 then the faint sound of a distant bell fell upon his ears. 
 
 It was midnight, and that bell seemed to be slowly tolling — 
 aye, tolling for the dead, the dead that groan in the bosom of 
 the earth. 
 
 A shiver came over him, big drops of cold sweat gathered on 
 his forehead. He sniffed the cold night air ; it smelt earthy 
 and damp, the scent of musk had quite passed away. 
 
 At last he half-opened his eyes, to see if he could perceive
 
 POBRATIM 17 
 
 anything of the young stranger. The moon, rising behind a 
 hillock, looked like a weird eye peeping on a ghastly scene. 
 What did he see — what were those uncouth shapes looming in 
 the distance, amidst the surrounding mist ? 
 
 Why was the earth newly dug at his feet, shedding a smell of 
 clay and mildew ? 
 
 He felt his head spinning, and everything about him seemed 
 to whirl. 
 
 What was that dark object dangling down, as from a huge 
 gallows ? 
 
 Whither was he to go ? — back across the wide morass, where 
 the earth, soft and miry, sank under his feet, where the un- 
 hallowed lights lead the wanderers into bottomless quagmires ? 
 
 He opened his eyes widely, and began to stare around. He 
 saw strange shapes flit through the fog, figures darker than the 
 fog itself rise, mist-like, from the earth. Were they night- 
 birds or human beings ? He could not tell. 
 
 All at once he bethought himself that they were witches and 
 wizards, carovnitsi and vicstitche, the morine or nightmares, and 
 all the creatures of hell gathering together for their nightlj- 
 frolic. 
 
 Fear prompted him to run off as fast as he possibly could, 
 but huge pits were yawning all around him ; moreover, 
 curiosity held him back, for he would have liked to see where 
 the damned store away their gold ; so, between these two feel- 
 ings, he stood there rooted to the earth. 
 
 At last, when fear prevailed over covetousness, he was 
 about to flee ; he felt the ground shiver under his feet, a 
 grave slowly opened on the spot where he stood, for — as 
 you surely must have understood — he was in the very midst 
 of a burying-ground. At midnight in a burying-ground, 
 when the tombs gape and give out their dead ! His hair 
 stood on end, his blood was curdling within his veins, his 
 very heart stopped beating. 
 
 Can you fancy his terror in seeing a voukoudlak, a horrid 
 vampire all bloated with the blood it nightly sucks. Slowly 
 he saw them rise one after the other, each one looking like 
 a drowsy man awaking from deep slumbers. Soon they 
 began to shake off their sluggishness, and leap and jump 
 and frolic around, and as the mist cleared he could see all 
 the other uncouth figures whirl about in a mazy dance, like 
 midges on a rainy day. 
 
 2
 
 1 8 FOB RATI M 
 
 It was too late to run away now, for as soon as these 
 blood-suckers saw him, they surrounded him, capering and 
 yelling, twisting their boneless and leech-like bodies, grin- 
 ning at him with delight, at the thought of the good cheer 
 awaiting them, telling him that it was by no means a 
 painful kind of death, and that afterwards he himself would 
 become a vampire and have a jolly time of it. 
 
 At the sight of these dead-and-alive kind of ghosts, the 
 poor man wished he had either a pentacle, a bit of consecrated 
 candle, or even a medal of the Virgin ; but he had nothing, he 
 was at the mercy of the fiends ; therefore, overpowered by fear, 
 he fell down in a fainting-fit. 
 
 That night, and the whole of the following day, Jella and her 
 mother waited for the old man to come back ; but they waited 
 in vain. When the evening came on, her mother persuaded 
 her to go to the dancing-party and see if the young stranger 
 would come again. 
 
 " Perhaps," said she, " he might tell you something about 
 your father ; if not, ask no questions. Anyhow, take this ball of 
 thread, which I have spun myself, and on bidding him good- 
 bye, manage to cast this loop on one of his buttons, drop the 
 ball on the ground, and leave everything to me. Very likely 
 your father has lost the scent of the musk, and is still wander- 
 ing about the country. This thread, which is as strong as wire, 
 is a much surer guide to go by." 
 
 Jella did as she was bid. She went to the house where the 
 Kolo was being danced ; she spent the whole evening with the 
 young stranger, who never said a word about her father, and 
 when the moment of parting on the threshold of the door 
 arrived, she deftly fastened the end of the thread to one of his 
 buttons, and then stood watching him go off. 
 
 The ball having slowly unwound itself, the old woman darted 
 out and caught hold of the other end of the string. Then 
 she followed the youth in the darkness, through thorns and 
 thickets, through brambles and briars, as well as her tottering 
 legs could carry her, much in the same way her husband had 
 done the evening before. 
 
 That night and the day afterwards, Jella waited for her 
 father and mother, but neither of them returned. When eve- 
 ning came on, afraid of remaining alone, she again went to 
 dance the Kolo. 
 
 The evening passed very quickly, and the rustic ball came
 
 POBRATIM 19 
 
 to an end. The youth accompanied her home as he had done 
 the evening before, and on their way he whispered words of 
 love in her ear, that made her heart beat faster, and her head 
 grow quite giddy, words that made her forget her father and 
 mother, and the dreaded night she was to pass quite alone. 
 Still, as they got in sight of the house, Jella, who was very 
 frightened, grew all at once quite thoughtful and gloomy. 
 Seeing her so sorrowful, the young stranger put again his arm 
 round her waist, and looking deep into her dark blue eyes, he 
 asked her why she was so sad. 
 
 She thereupon told him the cause of all her troubles. 
 
 " Never mind, my darling," said the youth, " come along 
 with me." 
 
 " But," faltered Jella, hesitatingly, " do you go far ? " 
 
 " No, not so very far either." 
 
 " Still, where do you go ? " 
 
 " Come and see, dear." 
 
 Jella did not exactly know what to do. She fain would go 
 with him, and yet she was afraid of what people might say 
 about her, and again she shuddered at the thought of having 
 to remain at home quite alone. 
 
 " You are not afraid to come with me," he asked ; " are you ? " 
 
 " Afraid ? No, why should I be ? you surely would take 
 care of me ? " 
 
 " O'f course ; why do you not come, then ? " 
 
 " Because the old women might say that it is improper." 
 
 " Oh," quoth he, laughing, " only old women who have 
 daughters of their own to marry, say such things ! " 
 
 Thereupon he offered her his arm, and off they went. 
 
 Soon leaving the village behind them, they were in the 
 open fields, beyond the vineyards and the orchards, in the 
 untilled land where the agaves shoot their gaunt stalks, up 
 towards the sky, where the air is redolent with the scent 
 of thyme, sage and the flowering Agnus castus bushes ; then 
 again they went through leafy lanes of myrtle and pomegranate- 
 trees and meadows where orchis bloomed and sparkling brooks 
 were babbling in their pebbly beds. 
 
 Though they had been walking for hours, Jella did not feel 
 in the least tired ; it seemed as if she had been borne on the 
 wings of the wind. Moreover, all sense of gloom and sadness 
 was over, and she was as blithe and as merry as she had 
 ever been. 
 
 2 — 2
 
 20 POBRA TIM 
 
 At last — towards dawn — they reached a dense wood, where 
 stately oaks and fine beech-trees formed fretted domes high 
 up in the air. There nightingales warbled erotic songs, and 
 the merle's throat burst with love ; there the crickets chirped 
 with such glee that you could hardly help feeling how pleasant 
 life was. The moon on its wane cast a mellow, silvery light 
 through the shivering leaves, whilst in the east the sky was 
 of the pale saffron tint of early dawn. 
 
 " Stop ! " said the young girl, laying her hand on the 
 stranger's arm. " Do you not see there some beautiful ladies 
 dancing under the trees, swinging on the long pendant 
 branches and combing the pearly drops of dew from their 
 black locks ? " 
 
 " I see them quite well." 
 
 " They must be Vile ? " 
 
 " I am sure they are." 
 
 " Fairies should not be seen by mortal eyes against their 
 wish. Then do not let us seek their wrath." 
 
 " Do not be afraid, sweet child ; we are no ordinary mortals, 
 you and I." 
 
 " You, perhaps, are not ; but as for me, I am only a poor 
 peasant girl." 
 
 " No, my love, you are much better than you think. Look 
 there ! the fairies have seen you, and they are beckoning you 
 to go to them." 
 
 " But, then, tell me first what I am." 
 
 " You are a foundling ; the old man and woman with whom 
 you lived were not your parents. They stole you when you 
 were an infant for your beauty and the rich clothes you 
 wore." 
 
 " And you, who are j'ou, gospod ? " 
 
 " I ? " said the young man, laughing. " I am Mack, the 
 merry, the mischievous sprite. I have known you since a 
 long time. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, 
 and I always hoped that, ' as like matches with like,' you 
 yourself might perhaps some day get to like me and marry 
 me. Tell me, was I right ? " said he, looking at her mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 Jella told him he was a saucy fellow to speak so lightly 
 about such a grave subject, but then — woman-like— she added 
 that he was not wrong. 
 
 They were forthwith welcomed by the Vik with much glee,
 
 FOB R ATI M 21 
 
 and, soon afterwards, their wedding was celebrated with great 
 pomp and merriment. 
 
 " But what became of the old man and his wife ? " asked 
 an interested listener. 
 
 " They met with the punishment their curiosity deserved. 
 They were found a long time afterwards locked up in an 
 old disused burying-ground. They were both of them quite 
 dead, for when they fainted at the terrible sights they saw, 
 the vampires availed themselves of their helplessness to suck 
 up the little blood there was in them." 
 
 " May St. John preserve us all from such a fate," said 
 Milos Bellacic, crossing himself devoutly. 
 
 The story having come to an end, toasts were drunk, songs 
 were sung to the accompaniment of the guzla, the young 
 people flirted, their elders talked gravely about politics and 
 the crops, whilst the women huddled together in a corner 
 and chatted about household matters. 
 
 After a while, an old ladle having been brought out, lead 
 was melted and then thrown into a bucket of water, and the 
 fanciful arborescent silvery mass it formed was used as a 
 means of divination. 
 
 Most of the girls were clever in reading those molten 
 hieroglyphics, but none was so versed in occult lore as an 
 old woman, an aunt of the Staresciiia's, who was also skilled 
 in the art of curing with simples. 
 
 Ivo and Milenko, therefore, begged the good old woman to 
 foretell them their future ; and she, looking at the glittering 
 maze, said to them : 
 
 " See here, these two are the paths of your life ; see how 
 smoothly they run, how they meet with the same incidents. 
 These little needles that rise almost at marked distances are 
 the milestones of the road ; each one is a year. Count them, 
 and you will see that for a length of time nothing ruffles the 
 course of your life. But here a catastrophe, then both paths 
 branch out in different directions ; your lives from then have 
 separate ends." The two young men heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 " Anyhow, j'ou have several years of happiness in store for 
 you. Make good use of your time while it is yours, for time 
 is fleeting." 
 
 Then, as she was rather given to speak in proverbs, she said 
 to Uros:
 
 22 POBRA TIM 
 
 " Let your friend be to you even as a brother. Remember 
 that one day, not very far off" either, you will owe your life 
 
 to him." 
 
 Drinking and carousing, singing and chatting, the evening 
 came to an end. In the early hours the guests took leave of 
 their host, wishing him a long and happy life, firing their 
 pistols, not only as a compliment to him, but also as a means 
 of scaring away the evil spirits. Upon reaching their houses, 
 they bathed and washed with dew, they rubbed themselves 
 with virgin oil, so as to be strong and healthy, besides being 
 proof against witchcraft, for a whole year.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BOND OF FRIENDSHIP 
 
 " MiLENKO," said Uros, " have you the least idea how people 
 that are in love feel ? " 
 
 Milenko arched his eyebrows and smiled. 
 
 " No, not exactly, for I've never been spoony myself." Then, 
 after pondering for a moment, he added: " I should think it's 
 like being slightly sea-sick ; don't you ? " 
 
 Uros looked amused. He thought over the simile for a while, 
 then said : 
 
 " Well, perhaps you are not quite wrong." 
 
 '' But why do you ask ? You are surely not in love, are 
 you ? " 
 
 Uros sighed. " Well, that's what I don't exactly know ; only 
 I feel just a trifle squeamish. I'm upset; my head is muddled." 
 
 " And you are afraid it's love ? " 
 
 Uros made, a sign of assent. 
 
 " It's not nice, is it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And you'd Uke to get out of it ? " asked Milenko. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, take a deep plunge. Make love to her heart 
 and soul, as if you were going to marry her to-morrow. Then, 
 I daresay, you'll soon get over it. You see, the worst thing 
 with sea-sickness is to mope, to nurse yourself, and fancy every 
 now and then that you are going to throw up. It's better to 
 be sick like a dog for a day or two, as we were, and then it's 
 all over. I think it must be the same thing with love.'"" 
 
 " I daresay you are right, but " 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 " I can't follow your advice." 
 
 "Why not ? " 
 
 " Because — because " and thereupon he began to scratch 
 
 his head. " I can't make love to her."
 
 24 POBRA TIM 
 
 " Can't make love to a girl ? " 
 
 " No ; for, you see, she's not a girl." 
 
 Milenko opened his eyes and stared. 
 
 " Who is she ? " he asked. 
 
 Uros looked gloomy. He hesitated for an instant ; then he 
 whispered : 
 
 " Milena!" 
 
 Milenko started back. 
 
 "Not Milena Radonic ? " 
 
 Uros nodded gravely. 
 
 "You are right," said Milenko seriously; "you can't make 
 love to a married woman. It's a crime, first of all ; then you 
 might get her into trouble, and find yourself some day or 
 other in a mess." 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 The two friends were silent for a moment ; then Milenko, 
 thinking to have caught the dilemma by its horns, said : 
 
 " Wouldn't it be the same thing if you made love to some 
 other pretty damsel ? " 
 
 Uros shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Darinka, our neighbour Ivo's daughter, is a very nice 
 girl." 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " Well, don't you think you might fall in love with her ? " 
 asked Milenko, coaxingly. 
 
 " No, I don't think I could." 
 
 " Then there is Liepa, for instance ; she is as lovely as 
 her name ; moreover, I think she looks a little like Milena." 
 
 " No ; no woman has such beautiful eyes. Why, the first 
 time I saw Milena, I felt her glances scorching me ; they 
 sank into my flesh," and he heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 There was another pause ; both the friends were musing. 
 
 "Well, then, I'll tell you what," said Milenko, after a while; 
 " we'll just go off to sea again. It's a pity, but it can't be 
 helped." 
 
 " And the harvest ? " 
 
 " They'll have to manage without us ; that's all." 
 
 After having discussed the subject over and over again, it 
 was agreed that thej' were to sail as soon as they could 
 find a decent vessel that could take them both. In the mean- 
 while, Uros promised to avoid Milena as much as possible, 
 which was, indeed, no easy matter.
 
 POBRA TIM 35 
 
 The day of Milena Zwillievic's marriage had, indeed, been 
 a Black Friday to her. First, she knew that she was being 
 sold to pay her father's debts ; secondly, Radonic was old 
 enough to be her father. Added to all this, he was a heavy, 
 rough, uncouth kind of a fellow, the terror of all seamen, 
 and, as he treated his crew as if they had been slaves, no 
 man ever sailed with him if he could possibly get another 
 berth. 
 
 Two or three days after the wedding, Radonic brought 
 his girlish bride to live with his mother, the veriest old 
 shrewish skinflint that could be imagined. She disliked her 
 daughter-in-law before she knew her ; she hated her the first 
 moment she saw her. Milena was handsome and penniless, 
 two heinous sins in her eyes, for she herself had been ugly 
 and rich. She could not forgive her son for having made 
 such a silly marriage at his age, and not a day passed with- 
 out her telling him that he was an old fool. 
 
 During the first months poor Milena was to be pitied, 
 and, what was worse, everybody pitied her. She never ate 
 a morsel of bread without hearing her mother-in-law's taunts. 
 If she cried, she was bullied by the one, cuffed by the other. 
 
 A month after the wedding, Radonic, however, went off 
 with his ship, and shortly afterwards his vixen of a mother 
 died, and Milena was then left sole mistress of the house. 
 Her life, though lonesome, was no more a burden to her, 
 as it had hitherto been, only, having nothing to do the 
 whole day, time lay heavy on her hands. 
 
 Handsome and young as she was, with a slight inborn 
 tendency to flirtation ; living, moreover, quite alone ; many a 
 young man had tried to make love to her; but, their intentions 
 being too manifest, all, hitherto, had been repulsed. On 
 seeing Uros, however, she felt for him what she had, as 
 yet, never felt for any man, for her husband less than any- 
 body else. 
 
 She tried not to think of Uros, and the more she tried 
 the more his image was before her eyes ; so the whole of 
 the live-long day she did nothing else but think of him. 
 She decided to avoid him, and still — perhaps it was the 
 devil that tempted her, but, somehow or other, she herself 
 could not explain how it happened — she was always either at 
 the door or at the window at the time he passed, and then 
 what could she do but nod in a friendly way to him ?
 
 26 POBRA TIM 
 
 If she went to pay his mother a visit, she would hurry 
 away before he came home, and then she was always un- 
 lucky enough to meet him on her way. Could she do less 
 than stop and ask him how he was ; besides, after all, he 
 was but a boy, and she was a married woman. 
 
 Soon she began to surmise that Uros was in love with 
 her ; then she thought herself foolish to believe such a 
 thing, and she rated herself for being vain. And then, 
 again, she thought : "If he cares for me more than he 
 ought, it is but a foolish infatuation, of which he will soon 
 get rid when he goes again to sea." Thereupon she heaved 
 a deep sigh, and a heaviness came over her heart, at which 
 she almost confessed to herself that she did love that boy. 
 
 Milena, after the conversation Uros had had with his friend, 
 seeing herself shunned, felt nettled and sorry. At the same 
 time she was glad to see that he did not care for her, and then 
 her heart yearned all the more for him. 
 
 But if he shunned her, was it a sign that he did not care for 
 her ? she asked herself. 
 
 Puzzled, as she was, she wanted to find out the truth, merely 
 out of curiosity, and nothing more. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that, standing one day on her doorstep, 
 she beckoned to the young man, as soon as she saw him, to 
 come up to her. It was a bold thing to do, nor did she do so 
 without a certain trepidation. 
 
 '' Uros," said she to him, " come here ; I have something to 
 ask you." 
 
 "What is it?" said the young man, looking down rather 
 shyly. 
 
 " You that have travelled far and wide, can you tell me who 
 speaks all the languages of this world ? " 
 
 " Who speaks all the languages of this world .' " eclioed 
 Uros, lifting up his eyes, astonished, and then lowering them, 
 feeling Milena's glances parch up his blood. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " said he, puzzled. 
 
 He tried to think, but his poor head was muddled, and his 
 heart was beating just as if it would burst. He had never been 
 good at guessing, but now it was worse than ever. 
 
 " I've heard of people speaking three, four, and five lan- 
 guages, but I've never heard of anyone speaking more than 
 five." 
 
 " What ! You've been in foreign countries," quoth she.
 
 POBRA TIM 27 
 
 smiling archly, and displaying her pearly teeth, " and still 
 you cannot answer my question ? " 
 
 " I cannot, indeed. There was a man who said he spoke 
 twenty-five languages, but, of course, he was a humbug. First, 
 there are not twenty-five languages in the world, and then he 
 couldn't even speak Slav." 
 
 '' Well, well ; think over it till to-morrow." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you'll be able to guess." 
 
 " But if I don't ? " 
 
 " Well, I shall not eat you up as the dragon, that Marko 
 Kraglievic killed, used to do, if people couldn't answer the 
 questions he put them." 
 
 " And you'll tell me ? " Thereupon he lifted up his eyes 
 yearningly towards her. 
 
 " Perhaps," she replied, blushing, " but then, you must 
 promise not to ask Milenko." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 She stretched forth her hand. He pressed it lingeringly. 
 
 "Nor anybody else ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I'll tell you to-morrow." 
 
 He bade her good-bye, and went off with a heavy heart ; she 
 saw him disappear with a sigh. 
 
 That whole day Uros thought a little of the riddle, and a 
 great deal of Milena's sparkling eyes ; moreover, he felt the 
 pressure of her soft hand upon his palm. But the more he 
 pondered over her question, the more confused his brain grew, 
 so he gave up thinking of the riddle, and continued thinking of 
 the young woman. On the morrow his excitement increased, 
 as the time of hearing the answer drew near. 
 
 Milena, as usual, was on the watch for him, leaning on the 
 door-post, looking more beautiful than ever. As soon as he 
 saw her, he hurried up to her without being called. 
 
 " Well," said she, with a nervous smile, " have you 
 guessed ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Oh, you silly fellow ! Who speaks all the languages of the 
 world ? " 
 
 " It's useless to ask me ; I don't know," 
 
 " What will you give me if I tell you ? " said she, in a low, 
 fluttering voice, and with a visible effort.
 
 28 POBRA TIM 
 
 He would willingly have made her a present, but he did not 
 know what she would like, and, as he looked up into her eyes 
 to guess, he felt his blood rising all up to his head. 
 
 " Do you want me to bring you something from abroad — a 
 looking-glass from Venice, or a coral necklace from Naples ? " 
 
 No, she did not want anything from abroad. 
 
 " Then a silk scarf ? " 
 
 " No, I was only joking. I'll tell you for nothing. Why, 
 who but the echo speaks all the languages of this world ? " 
 
 " Dear me, how stupid not to have thought of it. Tell me, 
 do you think me very stupid ? " 
 
 Milena smiled. She did think him rather dull, but not in the 
 way he meant. 
 
 " You see how good I am. I tell you for nothing. Now, if 
 you had put me a riddle, and I could not have answered, you 
 surely would have asked" — here there was a catch in her voice 
 — " a kiss from me." 
 
 Uros blushed as red as a damask-rose ; he tried to speak, 
 but did not know what to say. 
 
 "Oh! don't say no; you men are all alike." 
 
 The young man looked up at her with an entreating look, 
 then down again ; still he did not speak. Milena remained 
 silent, as if waiting for an answer ; she fidgeted and twisted 
 the fringe of her apron round her fingers, then she heaved 
 a deep sigh. After a few minutes' pause : 
 
 " Do you know any riddles ? " she asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes! I know several." 
 
 " Well, then, tell me one." 
 
 Uros thought for a while ; he would have liked to ask her 
 a very difficult one, but the thought of the kiss he might 
 have for it, gave him a strong nervous pain at the back 
 of his head. 
 
 " Well," said he, after a few moments' cogitation — " Who 
 turns out of his house every day, and never leaves his house ? " 
 
 She looked at him for a while with parted lips and eyes 
 all beaming with smiles ; nay, there was mischief lurking in 
 her very dimples as she said : 
 
 " VV'hy, the snail, you silly boy ; everybody knows that 
 hackneyed riddle." Then with the prettiest little inoiie : "It 
 was not worth while leaving your country to come back with 
 such a slight stock of knowledge. I hope you were not ex- 
 pecting a kiss for the answer ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 29 
 
 Uros was rather nettled by her teazing ; he would fain have 
 given her a smart answer, but he could find none on the spur 
 of the moment. Besides, the sight of those two lips, as fresh 
 and as juicy as the pulp of a blood -red cherry, made him 
 lose the little wit he otherwise might have had ; so he re- 
 plied : 
 
 " And if I had ? " 
 
 " You would have been disappointed ; I don't give kisses 
 for nothing." 
 
 " But you do give kisses ? " he asked, faltering, 
 
 " When they are worth giving," in an undertone. 
 
 Uros looked up shyly, then he began to scratch his head, 
 and tried to think of something tremendously difficult. 
 
 " Well, do you know that one and no other ? " she asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 All at once Uros' face brightened up. 
 
 " What is it that makes men bald ? " and he looked up 
 at her enquiringly. 
 
 Had he had a little more guile, he might, perhaps, have 
 seen that this riddle of his was likewise not quite unknown 
 to her ; but he saw nothing save her pomegranate lips. 
 
 " Oh," said Milena, " their naughtiness, I daresay ! " 
 
 " No, that's not it." 
 
 " Then, I suppose, it's their wit." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " They say that women have long hair and little wit, so 
 I imagine that men have little hair and much wit." 
 
 " If that's the case, then, I've too much hair. But you 
 haven't guessed." 
 
 " Then come to-morrow, and, perhaps, I'll be able to tell 
 you." 
 
 " But you'll not ask anybody ? " 
 
 She again stretched out her hand to him. As he kept 
 squeezing and patting her hand : 
 
 " Shall I tell you ? " he asked, with almost hungry eyes. 
 
 " And exact the penalty ? " 
 
 Uros smiled faintly. 
 
 "Now, that is not fair; I gave you a whole day to think 
 over it." 
 
 " Well, I'll wait till to-morrow ; only " 
 
 "Only, what?" 
 
 " Don't try to guess."
 
 30 POBRATIM 
 
 He said this below his breath, as if frightened at his own 
 boldness. 
 
 On the morrow he again waited impatiently for the moment 
 to come when he could go and see Milena. The hour arrived ; 
 Uros passed and repassed by the house, but she was not to 
 be seen. He durst not go and knock at her door — nay, he 
 was almost glad that she did not expect him ; it was much 
 better so. 
 
 He little knew that he was being closely watched by her, 
 through one of the crannies in the window-shutters. When, 
 at last, he was about to go off, Milena appeared on the 
 threshold. With a beating heart the youth turned round 
 on his heels and went up to her. With much trepidation 
 he looked up into her face. 
 
 " Does she, or does she not, know ? " he kept asking him- 
 self; "and if she does, am I to ask her for a kiss?" At 
 that moment he almost wished she had guessed the riddle, 
 for he remembered his friend's words : "It was a crime to 
 make love to a married woman." 
 
 " Oh, Uros, I'm like you ! I can't guess. I've tried and tried, 
 but it's useless." 
 
 There was a want of sincerity in the tone of her voice, that 
 made it sound affected, and she was speaking as quickly as 
 possible to bring out everything at a gush. After a slight 
 interruption, she went on : 
 
 " Do tell me quickly, I'm so curious to know. What is it 
 that makes men bald ? " 
 
 " It's strange that you can't guess, you that are so very 
 clever," he said, in a faltering voice. 
 
 "What, you don't believe me?" she asked, pouting her hps 
 in a pretty, babyish fashion. 
 
 Uros stood looking at her without answering ; in his nervous- 
 ness he was quivering from head to foot, undecided whether he 
 was to kiss her or not. 
 
 " Oh, I see, you dont want to tell me ; you are afraid I'll not 
 keep my promise ! " 
 
 " I can ask to be paid beforehand ; give me a kiss first, and 
 I'll tell you afterwards." 
 
 Having got it out he heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he was 
 glad it was over. 
 
 " Here, in the street ? " she asked, with a forced smile 
 
 He advanced up to her and she i-etreated into the house.
 
 POBRATIM 31 
 
 He was obliged to follow her now, almost in spite of himself; 
 moreover, he could hardly drag himself after her, for he had, 
 all at once, got to be as heavy as lead. 
 
 As soon as they were both within the house, she closed the 
 door, and leant her back against it. Then there was an 
 awkward pause of some minutes, for neither of them knew 
 what to do, or what to say. She took courage, however, and 
 looking at him lovingly : 
 
 " Now tell me, will you ? " said she. 
 
 As she uttered these words they clasped each other's hands, 
 whilst their eyes uttered what their lips durst not express ; then, 
 as Uros stood there in front of Milena, he felt as if she was 
 drawing him on, and the walls of the room began to spin 
 round and round. 
 
 " Why, it is the loss of hair that makes people bald," he 
 muttered in a hot, feverish whisper, the panting tone of which 
 evidently meapt — 
 
 " Jvlilena, I love you ; have pity on me." 
 
 She said something about being very stupid, but he could not 
 quite understand what it was ; he only felt the swaying motion 
 and the powerful attraction she had over him. 
 
 " I suppose you must have your reward now," she said, with 
 a faint voice. 
 
 The youth felt his face all aglow ; the blood was rushing 
 from his heart to his head with a whirring sound. His dizzi- 
 ness increased. 
 
 Did she put out her lips towards his as she said this ? He 
 could hardly remember. All that remained clear to him after- 
 wards was, that he had clasped her in his arms, and strained 
 her to his chest with all the might of his muscles. Had he 
 stood there with his lips pressed upon hers for a very long 
 time ? He really did not know ; it might have been moments, 
 it might have been hours, for he had lost all idea as to the 
 duration of time. 
 
 From that daj^ Uros was always hovering in the neighbour- 
 hood of Radonic's house ; he was to be found lurking thei-eabout 
 morning, noon and night. Milenko took him to task about it, 
 but he soon found out that if " hunger has no eyes," lovers, 
 likewise, have no ears, and also that '• he who holds his tongue 
 often teaches best." As for Uros, his friend's reproaches were 
 not half so keen as those he made to himself ; but love had a 
 thousand sophistries to still the voice of conscience.
 
 32 POBRA TIM 
 
 Not long after the eventful day of the riddle, Marko Radonic 
 returned unexpectedly to Budua, his ship having to undergo 
 some slight repairs. 
 
 For a few days, Milenko managed to keep Uros and Milena 
 apart, but, young as they were, love soon prevailed over pru- 
 dence. They therefore began to meet in by-lanes and out-of- 
 the-way places, especially during those hours when the husband 
 was busy at the building yard. At first they were very care- 
 ful, but the reiteration of the same act rendered them more 
 heedless. 
 
 Uros was seen again and again at Milena's door when the 
 husband was not at home. People began to suspect, to talk ; 
 the subject was whispered mysteriously from ear to ear; it soon 
 spread about the town like wild-fire. 
 
 A month after Radonic had returned, he was one evening at 
 the inn, drinking and chatting with some old cronies about 
 ships, cargoes and freights. In the midst of the conversation, 
 an old guzlar passing thereby, stepped in to have a draught of 
 wine. Upon seeing the bard, every man rose and, by way of 
 greeting, offered him his glass to have a sip. 
 
 " Give us a song, Vuk ; it is years since I heard the sound 
 of your voice," said Radonic. 
 
 The bard complied wilHngly ; he went up to a gti::la 
 hanging on the wall, and took it down. He then sat on a 
 stool, placed his instrument between his legs, and began to 
 scrape its single gut-string with the monochord bow ; this 
 prelude served to give an intonation to his voice, and scan 
 the verses he was about to sing. He thought a while, and 
 then — his face brightening up — he commenced the ballad of 
 " Marko Kraglievic and Janko of Sebinje." 
 
 We Slavs are so fond of music and poetry, that we will 
 remain for hours listening to one of our bards, forgetting 
 even hunger in our delight. No sooner was the shrill 
 sound of Vuk's voice heard than every noise was hushed, 
 hardly a man lifted his glass up to his mouth. Even the 
 passers-by walked softly or lingered about the door to catch 
 some snatches of the poet's song. 
 
 The ballad, however, was a short one, and as soon as the 
 bard had finished, the strong Dalmatian wine went round 
 again, and at every cup the company waxed merrier, more 
 tender-hearted, more gushing ; a few even grew sentimental 
 and lachrymose.
 
 POBRA TIM 33 
 
 Wine, however, brought out all the harshness of Radonic's 
 character, and the more he drank the more brutal he grew ; 
 at such moments it seemed as if all the world was his crew, 
 and that he had a right to bully even his betters, and say 
 disagreeable things to everybody ; his excuse was that he 
 couldn't help it — it was stronger than himself. 
 
 " Bogmc ! " he exclaimed, turning to one of his friends ; 
 " I should have liked to see your wife, Tripko, with Marko 
 Kraglievic. Ah, poor Tripko 1 " 
 
 " Why my wife more than yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, my wife knows of what wood my stick is made ; 
 you only tickle yours 1 " 
 
 Tripko shrugged his shoulders, and added : 
 
 " Every woman is not as sharp as Janko of Sebinje's wife, 
 but most of them are as honest." 
 
 "That means to say that you think your wife is honest,' 
 said Radonic, chuckling. " Poor Tripko ! " 
 
 " Come, come," quoth a friend, trying to mend matters, 
 "do not spit in the air, Radonic Marko, lest the spittle fall 
 back on your face." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked Radonic, who, like 
 all jokers, could never take a jest himself. 
 
 " I ? nothing ; only I advise you to be more careful how 
 you trifle with another man's wife — that's a ticklish subject." 
 
 " Oh, Tripko's wife 1 " said he, disparagingly. 
 
 " Radonic Marko, sweep before your own door, bogati ! " 
 replied Tripko, scornfully. 
 
 " Sweep before my door — sweep before my door, did you 
 say ? " and he snatched up the earthen mug to hurl it at 
 his friend's head, but the by-standers pinioned his arm. 
 
 " I did, and I repeat it, bogati ! " 
 
 " And you mean that there's dirt before my house ? " 
 asked Radonic, scowling. 
 
 " More than before mine, surely." 
 
 " Come, Tripko, are you going to quarrel about a joke ? " 
 said one of his friends. 
 
 " My wife is no joking matter." 
 
 " No, no," continued Radonic, " but he who has the itch 
 scratches himself." 
 
 "Then scratch yourself, Marko, for surely you must itch 
 when you're not at home." 
 
 " Hum 1 " said the host, " when asses joke it surely rains." 
 
 3
 
 34 POBRA TIM 
 
 Then he went up to the guzlar, and begged him to give 
 them a song. " Let it be something Hvely and merry," said 
 he, " something they can all join in." 
 
 The bard thereupon scraped his guzlar, silence was re-'" 
 established, and he began to sing the following zdravica : 
 
 " Wine that bubbles says to man : 
 Drink, oh ! drink me when you can ; 
 For I never pass away, 
 You albeit last but a day; 
 I am therefore made for you. 
 And I love men brave and true ; 
 Then remember, I am thine ; 
 Drink, oh ! drink the flowing wine ! " 
 
 As not one of them cared to see the quarrel continue, and 
 end, perhaps, in bloodshed, they all began to sing the 
 drinking-song; the wine flowed, the glasses jingled together 
 in a friendly way, and, for the nonce, peace prevailed. 
 
 Just then, Milenko — unperceived by everybody except the 
 landlord — happened to come in, and the host, taking him 
 aside, said to him : 
 
 " Markovic Milenko, tell your friend, Uros, not to be seen 
 fooling about with Milena, for people have long tongues, and 
 will talk ; and, above all, do not let him be found lurking 
 near Radonic's house to-night, for it might cost him his life." 
 
 " What ! has anybody been slandering him ? " 
 
 " Slandering is not the word ; enough, tell him that Radonic 
 Marko is not a man to be trifled with." 
 
 Milenko thanked the innkeeper, and, fearing lest his friend 
 might be getting into mischief, went at once in search of him. 
 
 As Radonic was about to begin the discussion again, the host 
 stopped him. 
 
 •' You had better wait for an explanation till to-morrow, for 
 when our heads are fuddled we, hke old Marija, do not see the 
 things exactly as they are." 
 
 •' What old Marija ? " asked one of the men. 
 
 " Don't you know the story of old Marija ? Why, I thought 
 everyone knew it." 
 
 ♦• No ; let's hear it." 
 
 Well, Marija was an old tippler, who was never known to 
 be in her senses. 
 
 One morning she rose early, and, as usual, went into the
 
 POBRA TIM 35 
 
 wood to gather a bundle of sticks. Presently she was seen 
 running back as if Old Nick was at her heels. Panting, and 
 scared ■ out of her wits, she dropped on a bench outside the 
 inn. As soon as she could speak, she begged for a little glass 
 of brandy. 
 
 The people crowded around her and asked her what had 
 happened. 
 
 " No sooner had I left the roadside and got into the wood," 
 she said, " I bent down to gather some sticks, when, lo and 
 behold ! fifty wild cats, as big as bears, with bristling hair, 
 glaring eyes and sharp claws, suddenly jumped out from 
 behind the bushes. Holy Virgin ! what a fright I got, and 
 see how scratched and torn I was by those brutes." 
 
 " Come, come, Marija," said the innkeeper ; " you must 
 have seen double — you know you often do. How many cats 
 were there ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't say there were exactly fifty, for I didn't count 
 them; but as true as God is in heaven there were twenty-five." 
 
 " Don't exaggerate, Marija — don't exaggerate ; there are not 
 twenty-five cats in the whole village." 
 
 " Well, if there were not twenty-five, may the devil take me ; 
 surely there were fifteen ? " 
 
 " Pooh ! Marija, have another little drop, just to get over 
 your fright, and then you'll confess that there were not fifteen." 
 
 Marija drained down another glass, and said : 
 
 " May a thunderbolt strike me dead this very moment but 
 five wild cats pounced upon me all at once." 
 
 " Come, Marija, now that you are in your senses, don't 
 exaggerate. Tell us how many wild cats there were." 
 
 " Well, I'll take my oath that, as I bent down, a ray of sun- 
 light was pouring through the branches, and I saw something 
 tremendously big moving through the bushes ; perhaps it was 
 a cat." 
 
 " Or a hare, running away," said the innkeeper. 
 
 " Perhaps it was, for in my fright I instantly ran away too." 
 
 The men, whom wine rendered merry, laughed heartily, and 
 
 the innkeeper added : 
 
 " You see, we are all of us, at times, like old Marija." 
 
 As they were about to part, Radonic asked the man who had 
 
 told him not to spit in the wind what he and all the others had 
 
 meant by their innuendoes. 
 
 3—2
 
 36 POBRATIM 
 
 " Oh, nothing at all ! were you not joking yourself ? " 
 
 Still, by dint of much pressing, he got this man to tell him 
 that Uros Bellacic, Milos' son, had been seen flirting with 
 Milena. " Of course, this Uros is only a boy ; still," added he, 
 " Milena herself is young, very young, and you — now, it is 
 no use mincing the matter — well, you are old, and therefore 
 I, as a friend, advise you to be more careful how you talk 
 about other men's wives, for, some day or other, you might 
 find the laughers are against you." 
 
 Thereupon the two men parted. 
 
 Radonic now, for the first time in his life, understood what 
 jealousy was. He felt, in fact, that he had touched hell, and 
 that he had got burnt. Alas! his countrymen were right in 
 thinking that Gehenna could not be worse. 
 
 As he walked on, the darkness of the night and his loneliness 
 increased the bitterness of his thoughts. He that hitherto had 
 felt a pleasure in disparaging every woman, was getting to be 
 the laughing-stock of the town, the butt of every man's jokes. 
 
 Meanwhile, Milenko had gone in quest of his friend, his mind 
 full of gloomy forebodings. Passing by Radonic's cottage, he 
 stopped and looked round. The night was dark, and every- 
 thing had a weird and ghastly look. The leaves shivered and 
 lisped ominously. Was it a bat that flitted by him ? 
 
 Straining his eyes, he thought he saw something darker than 
 the night itself move near one of the windows of the house, 
 then crouch down and disappear. Had his senses got so keen 
 that he had seen that shadow, or was it only a vision of his 
 over-heated imagination ? 
 
 He walked a few steps onward ; then he stopped, and began 
 to whistle in a low, peculiar way. Their fathers had been wont 
 to call each other like that ; and the two young men had sworn 
 to each other that whatever happened to them in their life- 
 time they would always obey the call of that whistle. All 
 dangers were to be overcome, all feuds to be forgotten at that 
 sound. They had sworn it on the image of St. George. 
 
 Milenko knew that if his friend was thereabouts he would not 
 tarry a single moment to come to him. In fact, a moment 
 afterwards Uros was at his side. 
 
 Milenko explained his errand in as few words as possible. 
 
 "Thank you," said Uros. " I'll go and tell Milena what has 
 happened, so that she may be on her guard." 
 
 " But Radonic might be here at any moment."
 
 POBRATIM 37 
 
 " I'll be back in a twinkling." 
 
 " Anyhow, if you hear my whistle sneak off at once, and run 
 for your life." 
 
 " All right," 
 
 Uros disappeared ; Milenko remained leaning against the 
 bole of a tree. He could hardly be seen at the distance of 
 some steps. Snatches of songs were now heard from afar ; it 
 was the drinking-song Vuk had been singing. The drunkards 
 were returning home. Soon after this he heard the noise of 
 steps coming on the road. Keeping a sharp look-out, his keen 
 eyes recognised Radonic's stalwart though clumsy frame. He 
 at once whistled to his friend, first in a low tone, then louder 
 and louder, as he came out from his hiding-place and walked 
 on to meet the enraged husband, and stop him on his way 
 Uros in the meanwhile took to his heels. 
 
 " Dobro vetchir, Radonic Marko," said Milenko to him. 
 " How are you ? " 
 
 " And who are you, so glib with your tongue ? " answered 
 Radonic, in a surly tone. 
 
 " What, do you not know the children of the place ? " 
 
 " Children, nowadays, spring up like poisonous mushrooms 
 after a wet night. How is one to know them ? " 
 
 " Well, I am Milenko Markovic, Janko's son." 
 
 " Ah, I thought so," replied Radonic fiercely, clasping the 
 haft of his knife. " Then what business have you to come 
 prowling about my house, making me the laughing-stock of the 
 whole place. But you'll not do so long." 
 
 Suiting the action to the words, he lifted up his knife and 
 made a rush at the young man. 
 
 Though Milenko was on his guard, and though the hand of 
 the half-drunken man was not quite steady, still it was firm 
 and swift enough in its movements for mischief's sake ; and so 
 he not only wounded the young man slightly on his arm, but, 
 the knife' being very sharp, it cut through all his clothes and 
 scratched him, enough to make him bleed, somewhere about 
 the left breast. Had the blade but gone an inch or two deeper, 
 death most likely would have been instantaneous. 
 
 Milenko, quick as lightning, darted unexpectedly upon 
 Radonic, grasped the knife from his hand, knocked him down, 
 and, after a little scuffle, held him fast. Although Marko was 
 a powerfully-built man, still he was heavy and clumsy, slow 
 and awkward in his movements ; and now, half-drunk as he
 
 38 POBRATIM 
 
 was, it seemed as if his huge body was no match for this hthe 
 and nimble youth. 
 
 When at last Radonic was fully overpowered, " Look here," 
 said Milenko, " you fully deserve to have this blade thrust into 
 your heart, for it almost went into mine. Now, tell me, what 
 have I done that you should come against me in this murderous 
 way ? You say that I have been prowling about your house ; 
 but are you quite sure ? And even if I had, is it a reason to 
 take away my life ? Are you a beast or a man ? " 
 
 " Well, when you have done preaching, either let me go or 
 kill me ; but stop talking," said Radonic, sullenly, 
 
 " I'll leave you as soon as I have done. First you must know 
 that I have hardly ever spoken to your wife. May God strike 
 me blind if I have ! As for prowling about your house — well, 
 half-an-hour ago I was at the inn." 
 
 " You were at the inn ? " asked Radonic, incredulously. 
 
 " Yes; you were all singing a zdravica.'" 
 
 " I was singing ? " 
 
 " No ; at least, I think not. You were, if I remember rightly, 
 talking with Livic. I only looked in. Uros Bellacic, another 
 poisonous mushroom, was with me." 
 
 Just then it came to Radonic's head that this Uros, the son 
 of Milos, was the young man who had been flirting with his 
 wife. 
 
 " So your friend Uros was with you ? " 
 
 " Of course he was, and from there I accompanied him to 
 his house, where I left him. Now, I was going home, and 
 the nearest way was by your house. Had I, instead, been 
 making love to your wife, I should not have come up to j'ou 
 in a friendly way, as I did. I should have hidden behind 
 some tree, or skulked away out of sight. Anyhow, your wife 
 is young and pretty ; it is but right you should be jealous." 
 
 Milenko thereupon stretched out his hand to help the 
 prostrate man to rise. 
 
 The bully, thoroughly ashamed of himself, got up moodily 
 enough,' ruminating over all the young man had said, under- 
 standing, however, that he had been too rash, and had thus 
 bungled the whole affair. He made up his mind, however, 
 to keep a sharp look-out. 
 
 " And now," continued Milenko, chuckling inwardly over 
 his long-winded speeches, made only to give his friend full 
 time to be off, " as your wife is perhaps in bed, let me
 
 POBRATIM 39 
 
 come in and bandage up my arm, which is bleeding ; it is 
 useless for me to go home and waken up my father and 
 mother, or frighten them for such a trifle. I might, it is 
 true, go to Uros, but it is not worth while making an ado 
 for a scratch like this, and have the whole town gossiping 
 about your wife, for who will believe that the whole affair 
 is as absurd as it really is ? " 
 
 Radonic now felt sure that he had made a mistake, for, 
 if this youth had been trying to make love to Milena, he 
 would not have asked to be brought unexpectedly before 
 the woman whose house he had just left. 
 
 " Very well," replied he, gruiBy, " come along." 
 
 Having reached the cottage, he opened the door noiselessly, 
 stepped in as lightly as he could, and beckoned to Milenko 
 to follow him. 
 
 Utter darkness reigned within the house. Radonic took 
 out his flint and struck a light. He was glad to see that 
 his wife was not only in bed, but fast asleep. 
 
 He helped the young man to take off his clothes, all stained 
 with blood ; then he carefully washed his wounds, dressed 
 them with some aromatic plants whose healing virtues were 
 well known. After this he poured out a bumper of wine and 
 pledged Milenko's health, as a sign of perfect reconciliation, 
 saying : 
 
 " I have shed your innocent blood ; mine henceforth is at 
 your disposal." 
 
 With these words he took leave of him. 
 
 Though it was late, Milenko, far from returning home, 
 hastened to his friend to tell him what had happened, 
 and put him on his guard from attempting to see Milena 
 again. 
 
 His advice, though good, was, however, superfluous, for 
 Milena, far from being asleep, had heard all that had taken 
 place, and, as her husband kept a strict watch over her, 
 she remained indoors for several days. 
 
 When the incident came to the ears of either parent — 
 though they never knew exactly the rights of the whole affair, 
 and they only thought that it was one of Radonic's mad 
 freaks of jealousy — both Bellacic and Markovic thought it 
 better to send their sons to sea as soon as possible. 
 
 " Having sown their wild oats," said Milos, " they can come 
 back home and settle into the humdrum ways of married life."
 
 40 POBRATIM 
 
 " Besides," quoth Janko, "in big waters are big fish caught. 
 The shipping trade is very prosperous just now ; freights are 
 high ; so after some years of a seafaring life they may put 
 aside a good round sum." 
 
 " Well," replied Milos, " the best thing would be to set 
 them up in life ; let us buy for them a share of some brig, 
 and they, with their earnings, may in a few years buy up 
 the whole ship and trade for themselves." 
 
 The vintage — very plentiful that year — was now over ; the 
 olive-trees, which had been well whipped on St. Paul's Day, 
 had yielded an unexpected crop, so that the land, to use 
 the Biblical pithy expression, was overflowing, if not with 
 milk and honey, at least with wine and oil. The earth, 
 having given forth its last fruits, was now resting from its 
 labours, but the young men, though they had nothing more 
 to do on shore, still lingered at Budua, no share of any 
 decent vessel having been found for them. 
 
 At last the captain of a brigantine, a certain Giuliani, 
 wishing to retire from business in some years, agreed to 
 take them on a trial trip with him, and then, if he liked 
 them and saw that they could manage the vessel by them- 
 selves, to sell them half of his ship afterwards. 
 
 All the terms of the contract having been settled, it was 
 agreed that the two young men should sail in about a 
 fortnight's time, when the cargo had all been taken on 
 board. 
 
 Before starting, however, these youths, who loved each 
 other tenderly, made up their minds to become kith-and-kin 
 to each other — that is to say, brothers by adoption, or 
 pobratim. 
 
 As St. Nicholas — the patron saint of the opposite town of 
 Bari, on the Italian shores of the Adriatic — is one of the 
 most revered saints of the Slavs and the protector of sailors, 
 his feast, which was celebrated just a week before their 
 departure, was chosen for the day of this august ceremony. 
 
 On the morning of that memorable day, the two young men, 
 dressed, not in their simple sailor-like attire, but in the 
 gorgeous and picturesque Buduan costume — one of the most 
 manly and elegant dresses as yet devised by human fancy — 
 with damaskened silver-gilt pistols and daggers to match, 
 the hafts of which were all studded with round bits of coral, 
 dark chalcedonies and blood-red carnelians. These had been
 
 POBRATIM 41 
 
 the weapons of their great-grandfathers, and they showed 
 by their costliness that they were no mean upstarts, dating 
 only from yesterday, but of a good old stock of warriors. 
 
 Thus decked out, and not in borrowed plumes, they wended 
 their way to the cathedral, where a special Mass was to be 
 said for them. Each of them was accompanied by a kind 
 of sponsor or best man, and followed by all their relations, 
 as well as by a number of friends. 
 
 Having entered the crowded church — for such a ceremony 
 is not often seen — Uros and Milenko went straight to the 
 High Altar, and, bending down on one knee, they crossed 
 themselves with much devotion. Then, taking off all their 
 weapons, they laid them down on their right-hand side, and 
 lighted their huge tapers. The best men, who stood im- 
 mediately behind, and the relations, lit their wax candles, 
 just as if it had been the ritualistic pomp of marriage ; there- 
 upon they all knelt down till the priest had finished chant- 
 ing the liturgy, and, after offering up the Holy Sacrament, 
 Mass came to an end. This part of the service being over, 
 the priest came up to them, saying : 
 
 " Why and wherefore come ye here ? " 
 
 " We wish to become brothers." 
 
 "And why do you wish to become brothers?" 
 
 " Out of love," quoth Uros, who was the elder of the two 
 by a few months. 
 
 " But do you know, my children, what you really ask ; 
 have you considered that this bond is a life-long one, and 
 that, formed here within the House of God, it can never be 
 broken. Are you prepared to swear that, in whatever cir- 
 cumstance of life you may be placed, the friendship that 
 binds you to-day will never be rent asunder ? " 
 
 "We are." 
 
 " Can you take your oath to love and help each other as 
 brothers should, the whole of your lifetime ? " 
 
 "We can." 
 
 " Well, then, swear before God and man to love each 
 other with real brotherly affection ; swear never to be at 
 variance, never to forsake each other." 
 
 The oath was solemnly taken. After this the priest 
 administered them the Communion — though no more mixed up 
 with a drop of their own blood ; he gave them the pax to kiss, 
 whilst the thurible-bearers were swinging their huge silver
 
 42 POBRA TIM 
 
 censers, which sent forth a cloudlet of fragrant smoke. The 
 two friends were almost hid from the view of the gazing 
 crowd, for, the pobratim being rich, neither frankincense nor 
 myrrh had been spared. Then the priest, in his richest 
 stole, placed both his hands above their heads, and uttered 
 a lengthy prayer to God to bless them. 
 
 The ceremony having come to an end, the pobratim rose and 
 kissed each other repeatedly. They were then embraced by 
 their sponsors and relations, and congratulated by their friends. 
 As they reached the church door, they were greeted by the 
 shouts of "ZJui'o.'" from all their friends, who, in sign of joy, 
 fired off their pistols. They replied to their courtesy in the 
 same fashion, and so the din that ensued was deafening. 
 
 Holding hands, they crossed the crowd, that parted to let 
 them pass. Thus they both bent their steps towards Markovic's 
 house, for, as he lived nearer the church than Bellacic did, 
 he was the giver of the first feast in honour of the pobratim. 
 
 Upon entering the house, the young men kissed each other 
 again ; then forthwith Uros kissed Janko Markovic, calling 
 him father, whilst Milenko greeted Uros' parents in the same 
 way. 
 
 Afterwards presents were exchanged by the pobratim, then 
 each member of either family had some gift in store for their 
 newly-acquired kinsman, so that before the day was over they 
 had quite a little store of pipes and gold-embroidered tobacco 
 pouches. 
 
 Dinner being now ready, they all sat down to a copious, if 
 not a very dainty meal ; and the priest, who just before had 
 asked a blessing upon the friends, was the most honoured of 
 all the guests. 
 
 They ate heartily, and many toasts were drunk in honour 
 of the two young men, and those that could made speeches 
 in rhyme to them. 
 
 The feast was interrupted by the Kolo — a young man per- 
 forming sundry evolutions with a decanter of wine upon his 
 head, looking all the while as clumsy as Heine's famous bear, 
 Atta Troll. 
 
 Then they began again to eat and drink, and filled them- 
 selves up in such a way that they could hardly move from 
 the table any more, so that by the time St. Nicholas' Day 
 came to an end, the hosts and almost all the guests were 
 snoring in happy oblivion.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 The fierce equinoctial blasts which that year had lasted 
 for more than a month, were followed by a fortnight of fitful, 
 heavy rain, intermitted by sudden gales and stormy showers. 
 Then after a period of dull, drizzling, foggy weather, ending in 
 a thick squall, the clouds cleared up beautifully, the sun showed 
 itself again, and Spring apparently succeeded to Autumn. 
 
 The wind fell entirely. Not the slightest breeze was blowing 
 to bring down the dry leaves, or to bicker the smooth surface 
 of the waters. For days and days the sea remained as even as 
 a mass of shining melted lead, with the only difference that it 
 was as fathomably liquid and as diaphanously pure as the air 
 itself, of which it even had the vaporous cerulean clearness. 
 Far away on the offing, the waters blended with the watchet 
 airiness of the surrounding atmosphere, so that the line of the 
 horizon could nowhere be seen, the blueish-grey ocean melting 
 into the greyish-blue of the sky. Nearer the shore, the smooth 
 translucent sheet was streaked and spotted with those sheeny 
 stripes and silvery patches, which Shelley terms a " coil of 
 crystalline streams." 
 
 The earth itself had a fleecy look. The shadowy opal greys 
 of the headlands, the liquid amethystine tints of the hills, the 
 light irradiated coasts, all rising out of the luminous waves, 
 looked lovelier even than they had done in summer, at noon- 
 tide, when swathed by a splendent haziness, for now the cold 
 opaque clay tints themselves looked transparent, wrapped up 
 as they were in that vaporous pellucid veil of mists. 
 
 Nature was wearing now her garishly gorgeous autumnal 
 garment, and the foliage of the trees had acquired the richest 
 prismatic dyes, for the reddish russets and the glowing orange 
 yellows predominated over the whitish blues and the faint 
 greens. The vegetation, but for the funereal cypresses, had the 
 sere hectic hue of dying life. 
 
 The seafaring people of Budua had anything but an admi-
 
 44 POBRA TIM 
 
 ration for that calm, soft, misty weather, or for that placid, 
 unruffled sea ; not that they lacked the sense of beauty, but 
 they chafed at being kept at home, when they ought already 
 to have been in distant parts of the Mediterranean, or even 
 returning from the farthermost corners of the Adriatic. 
 
 Thus the departure of the pobratim had already been post- 
 poned for about a fortnight, as every day they waited patiently 
 for a favourable wind to swell their flagging sails ; but the wind 
 never came. The friends, however, did not fret at this delay, 
 and now, having stayed so long, they hoped that the calm 
 weather would continue a little longer, so that they might spend 
 Christmas at home with their families. 
 
 Radonic had sailed off some time since. Milena, after that, 
 had gone to spend some weeks with her parents in Montenegro. 
 On her return, she kept a good deal at home, for after the 
 fright she had had on that eventful night when she had seen 
 Milenko all covered with blood, she had made up her mind to 
 give up flirting, either with Uros or with any other young man, 
 and, for a short time, she kept her resolution. Moreover, she 
 felt that she cared for the young man far more than she liked 
 to confess to herself, and that she thought oftener of him than 
 she ought to have done, and much more than was good for the 
 peace of her mind. Another reason now prompted her to be 
 seen abroad as little as possible. 
 
 The man who, after the quarrel at the inn, had followed 
 Radonic to his house, and told him of his wife's levity in her 
 conduct towards Uros, was a certain Vranic, one of Milena's 
 rejected suitors. He was more than a plain-looking man ; he 
 was mean and puny. Besides this, he had a cast in his eye, 
 which rendered him hateful to all people, and justly so, for 
 does not the wisdom of our ancients say : " Beware of a man 
 branded by the hand of God ? " Still, as if this was not 
 enough, Vranic possessed the gift of second sight, if it can be 
 called a gift. He was, therefore, a most unlucky fellow. The 
 priest had, it appears, made some mistake in christening him, 
 so that nothing ever had gone on well with him. 
 
 Vranic had, therefore, always been not only shunned by all 
 the girls as an uncanny kind of man who always saw ghosts, 
 but even all the men avoided him. He ought to have left 
 Budua and gone to live abroad in a place where he was not 
 known, but it is a hard thing for a man to leave his own 
 country for ever.
 
 POBRATIM 45 
 
 Amongst many defects, Vranic had one quality, if really 
 it can be called a quality. This was the stern tenacity of 
 purpose, the stolid opiniativeness of the peasant, the stub- 
 born firmness of the mule, the ant and the worm, that 
 nothing baffles, nothing turns aside. Once bent upon doing 
 something, it would have been as easy to keep water from 
 running down a hill as make him desist from his obstinacy. 
 He had, in fact, the inert, unreasoning will of the Slovene. 
 
 The day after Radonic's departure, Vranic had come again 
 to make love to Milena. Of course, she would not listen to 
 him, but spurned him from her like a cur. He simply smiled, 
 in the half-shrewd, half-apish way in which peasants grin, 
 and threatened to report everything she did to her husband 
 on his return. He told her he would poison Radonic's ear 
 in such a way that her life would henceforth be anything 
 but a pleasure. Milena answered that, as her conscience 
 was quite clear, she allowed him to act as he pleased. 
 
 In the meanwhile Uros' love was getting the mastery over 
 him. Milena's presence haunted him day and night ; it over- 
 flowed his heart in a way that made him feel as if he were 
 suffering from some slow, languishing fever. Looking upon 
 Milena's face was like gazing at the full moon on a calm 
 summer night ; only that this planet's amber light shed a 
 sense of peace on the surface of the rippleless waters, whilst 
 this woman's beauty made his heart beat faster and his 
 nerves tingle with excitement. Listening to her voice re- 
 minded him of the love - songs he had heard the gtizlari 
 chant on winter evenings — amatory poems which heated 
 the blood like long draughts of strong wine. His love for 
 her had changed his very nature ; instead of caring only for 
 fishing and shooting, unfurling the broad sails and seeing the 
 breeze swell the white canvas, a yearning hitherto unknown 
 now filled his breast. At times he even avoided his friend, 
 and went wandering alone, his steps — almost unwillingly — 
 leading him to choose places where he had met Milena, and 
 which were still haunted by her presence. Many a night 
 he would roam or linger near her house, hoping to catch a 
 glimpse of her ; but, alas ! she seldom came out, and she 
 was never seen either at her window or her door. Her 
 lonely cottage looked deserted, desolate. 
 
 On the night when the brig was expected to weigh anchor, 
 Uros slunk away stealthily, when the crew were fast asleep,
 
 46 POBRA TIM 
 
 and went on shore. The inns were already shut, and not 
 a lig;ht was to be seen in any window. He, therefore, 
 pkicked up all his courage, hastened to reach Milena's lonely 
 house, and there, under her casement, he sang to her the 
 following rasianak, or farewell song : 
 
 Though cold and deaf, farewell, love ; 
 
 We two must part. 
 But can you live alone, love, 
 
 If I depart ? 
 
 From o'er the boundless sea, love, 
 
 And mountains high, 
 From o'er the dark, deep wood, love, 
 
 You'll hear me sigh. 
 
 If you are deaf to me, love. 
 
 Still on the plain 
 You'll see the flowers fade, love. 
 
 Seared by my pain. 
 
 Still you are deaf to me, love, 
 
 Without a tear; 
 I go without a word, love. 
 
 My soul to cheer. 
 
 I send you back those blooms, love, 
 
 Which once you gave ; 
 For they are now to me, love. 
 
 Rank as the grave. 
 
 Amongst those cold, grey buds, love, 
 
 A snake doth lie. 
 As you have not for me, love, 
 
 A single sigh. 
 
 He finished and listened, then he heard a slight noise over- 
 head ; the window was quietly opened, and Milena's face 
 was seen peeping between the cranny as she held the shutters 
 ajar, for her beautiful, lustrous eyes sparivled in the darkness. 
 
 " Uros ! " she whispered, " how can you be so very foolish 
 as to come and sing under my windows ! What will the 
 people say, if they should happen to see you ? " 
 
 " Who can hear me in this lonely spot ? Everybody is 
 asleep, not a mouse is stirring abroad." 
 
 " Someone or other seems always to hang about, spying 
 all I do. For your sake, and for mine, go away, I beg you. 
 After the fright I had upon that dreadful night, I have got 
 to be such a coward."
 
 POBRA TIM 47 
 
 " No ; the truth is, after that night, you never cared for 
 me any more." 
 
 " I must not care for you;" then, with a sigh, and faintly: 
 " nor must you for me." 
 
 " Would it make you very happy if I forgot you— if I loved 
 someone else ? " 
 
 She did not give him any reply. 
 " You don't answer," he said. 
 
 "You'll forget me soon enough, Uros — far from the eyes, 
 far from the heart." 
 
 •' And if I come back loving you more than ever ? " 
 
 " You'll be away for a long time ; when you come back " 
 
 •' Well ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I'll be dead." 
 
 " Don't say such things, Milena, or you'll drive me mad." 
 Then, with cat-like agility, he climbed the low wall, and, 
 with hands clutching at the window-sill, and the tips of his 
 opanke, or sandal-like shoes, resting on some stones jutting 
 out, he stood at the height of her head. His other arm soon 
 found itself resting round her unresisting neck. He lifted 
 up his mouth towards hers, and their pouting lips met in 
 a long, lingering kiss. 
 
 But all at once she shivered from head to foot, and, drawing 
 herself away, she begged Uros to have pity on her and to 
 go away. 
 
 " Milena, it is perhaps the last time we meet ; more than 
 one ship never came back to the port from which it sailed; 
 more than one sailor never saw his birth-place again." 
 
 " But, only think, if some one passing by should see us 
 here." 
 
 " Well, then, let me come in, so nobody'll see me." 
 " Uros, are you mad ? Allow you to come in at this 
 hour of the night ! " 
 
 " What greater harm would there be than in the broad 
 daylight ? " 
 
 " No ; if you really love me, don't ask me such a thing." 
 Uros obeyed, and, after a few minutes, with the tears 
 gushing to his eyes, he bade her good-bye. As he was 
 sliding down, he thought he heard a noise of footsteps on 
 the shingle of the pathway near the house. Uros shuddered 
 and listened. Was it some man lurking there, he asked him- 
 self. If so, who could it be ? Radonic had, perhaps, come
 
 48 POBRATIM 
 
 back to Budua to keep watch over his wife — catch her 
 on the hop, and then revenge himself upon her. The 
 sudden fright now curdled his blood. Still, he was not 
 afraid for himself; he was young and strong, and he was 
 on his guard. Even if it was the incensed husband, the 
 night was too dark for anyone to take a good aim and fire 
 from a distance. If he was afraid, it was for Milena's sake. 
 Radonic had, perhaps, returned ; he had seen him chmb 
 down from his own house at that late hour. Rash as he was, 
 he would surely go and kill his wife, who, even if she was 
 a flirt, was by no means as bad as what he or the world 
 would think her to be. 
 
 " Anyhow," said Uros to himself, " if it is Radonic, he 
 will either rush at me, or fire at me from where he is hiding ; 
 or else he will go towards his own house." His suspense 
 would only last a few seconds. 
 
 It lasted much longer. Many minutes passed, if he could 
 reckon time by the beating of his heart. In the meanwhile 
 he tried to fathom the darkness from whence the slight 
 sound had come. Not being able to see or hear anything, 
 he went off, walking on tip-toe ; but he listened intently as 
 he went. All at once there was again a slight rustling sound. 
 Uros walked on for a while, then, stepping on the grass and 
 crouching between the bushes, slowly and stealthily he came 
 back near the house and waited. Not many minutes had 
 elapsed when he heard the noise of footsteps once more, 
 but he saw nobody. 
 
 Oh I how his heart did beat just then I The sound of 
 steps was distinctly heard upon the shingle, and yet no 
 human being, no living creature, was to be seen. What 
 could this be ? 
 
 " Bog me ovari! — God protect me" — he said to himself, 
 " it is, perhaps, a ghost, a vampire ! " 
 
 Darkness in itself is repellent to our nature ; therefore, to 
 be assaulted at night, by any unseen foe, must daunt the 
 bravest amongst the brave. 
 
 It is, then, not to be wondered that Uros was appalled at 
 the idea of having to become the prey of an invisible, intangible 
 ghost, against which it was impossible to struggle. He waited 
 for a while, motionless, breathless. There was not the slightest 
 noise, nothing was stirring any more ; but in the dusky twilight 
 everything seemed to assume strange and weird shapes — the
 
 POBRA TIM 49 
 
 gnarled branches of the olive trees looked like stunted and 
 distorted hmbs, whilst the bushes seemed to stretch forth 
 long waving tentacles, with which to grasp the passer-by. 
 As he looked about, he saw a light appear at a distance, 
 flit about for a while, extinguish itself, reappear again after 
 some time, then go out as before. Then he heard the 
 barking of a dog ; the sound came nearer, then it lost itself 
 in the stillness of the night, 
 
 Uros, horror-stricken, was about to take to his heels, when 
 again he heard the footsteps on the shingle. He, therefore, 
 stood stock-still and waited, with a heart ready to burst. 
 He could not leave Milena to the danger that threatened 
 her, so he chose to remain and fall into the clutches of a 
 vampire. He listened ; the steps, though muffled, were those 
 of a rather heavy man. The sound continued, slowly, stealthily, 
 distinctly. Uros looked towards the place from whence the 
 noise came, and thereupon he saw a man creep out from 
 within the darkness of the bushes and go up towards Radonic's 
 house. 
 
 Uros, seeing a human figure, felt all his superstitious fears 
 vanish ; he looked well at it to con\ince himself that it was 
 not some deceptive vision, some skin all bloated with blood, as 
 vampires are. No, it was a man. Still, who could it be, he 
 was too short and puny to be Radonic ? 
 
 Who could this man be, going to Milena's in the middle of 
 the night ? 
 
 A bitter feeling of jealousy came over him, a steel hand 
 seemed to grasp his heart. Milena had just been flirting with 
 him, could she not do the same with another man. She had 
 listened to his vows of love, he had been a fool to go off when 
 she begged him to remember that she was another man's wife. 
 At that moment he hated her, and he was vexed with himself. 
 
 There are moments in life when we repent having been too 
 good, for goodness sometimes is but a sign of weakness and 
 inexperience ; it only shows our unfitness for the great struggle 
 of life, where the weak go to the wall. 
 
 During the time that Radonic had been at home he had 
 never felt the bitter pangs of jealousy as much as he did now. 
 It humbled him to think that he had left his place to another 
 more fortunate rival, apparently an older man. 
 
 Then he asked himself how he could have been so foolish as 
 to love a married woman. 
 
 4
 
 50 POBRA TIM 
 
 " After all," said he to himself, " it is but right that I should 
 suffer, why have I lifted up my eyes upon a woman who has 
 sworn to love another man ? "' 
 
 He had sinned, and he was now punished for his crime. 
 
 When flushed with success the voice of conscience had ever 
 been mute, but now, when disappointment was sinking his 
 heart, that voice cried out loudly to him. Conscience is but a 
 coward at best, a sneak in prosperity, a bully in our misfortune. 
 
 There in the darkness of the night, lifting his eyes up to- 
 wards heaven, he called upon the blessed Virgin to come to 
 his help. 
 
 " Oh ! immaculate mother of Christ our Saviour, grant me 
 the favour of seeing that this man is no fortunate rival, that he 
 is not Milcna's lover, and henceforth I shall never lift up my 
 eyes towards her, even if I should have to crush my heart, I 
 shall never harbour in it any other feeling for her except that 
 of a brother or a friend." 
 
 During this time the man had gone up to the cottage door. 
 Almost unthinkingly and with the words of the prayer upon his 
 lips, Uros stood up, went a step onwards, and then he stopped. 
 The man now tapped at the door. A pause followed. The 
 man knocked again a little louder. Thereupon Milena's voice 
 was heard from within. Though Uros was much too far to 
 hear what she had said, he evidently understood that she was 
 asking who was outside ; the young man, treading on the 
 grass as much as he could, stole on tip-toe a little nearer the 
 house. 
 
 He could not catch the answer the man had given, for it was 
 in a low muffled undertone. 
 
 "Who are you," repeated Milena from inside, "and what 
 do you want ? " 
 
 " It is I, Uros," said the man in a muffled tone ; " open your 
 door, my love." 
 
 " Liar," shouted Uros from behind, and with a bound he 
 had jumped upon the man and, gripping him by the nape of the 
 neck and by the collar of his jacerma, he tugged at him and 
 dragged him away from the door. 
 
 As the man struggled to free himself, Uros recognised him 
 to be Vranic — Vranic the ghost-seer, Vranic the spy. 
 
 " How dare you come here in my name, you scoundrel," said 
 the young man, and giving him a mighty shake, that tore the 
 strong cloth of the jacket, he cast him away.
 
 POBRATIM 51 
 
 " And pray what are you doing here at this lime of the 
 night ? " asked Vranic, his hand on the haft of his knife. 
 
 " And what is that to you — are you her husband or her kins- 
 man ? But as you wish to know, I'll tell you; I came to protect 
 her from a dastardly coward like yourself." 
 
 " I doubt whether Radonic will be glad to hear that you go 
 sneaking into his house at the dead of night, just to keep his 
 wife from any harm ; that is really good of you." And Vranic, 
 standing aloof, burst out laughing. Then he added, " Anyhow, 
 he'll be most grateful to you when he knows it." 
 
 " And who'll tell him ? " 
 
 " I shall." 
 
 " If I let you, you spy." 
 
 Thereupon Uros rushed upon Vranic so unexpectedly, that 
 the latter lost his balance, slipped and fell. The younger man 
 held him down with one hand, and with the other he lifted up 
 his dagger. Seeing himself thus overpowered : 
 
 " What, are you going to murder me like that ? " he gasped 
 out, " do you not see that I was joking ? If you'll but let me 
 go I'll swear not to say a word about the matter to anyone." 
 
 " On what will you swear ? " 
 
 " On anything you like, on the holy medals round my neck." 
 
 With a jerk that almost choked the man, Uros broke the 
 string and snatched the amulets from Vranic's neck, and pre- 
 sented them to him, saying: 
 
 " Now, man, swear." 
 
 Vranic took his oath. 
 
 " Now," said Uros, " swear not to harm Milena while I 
 am away, swear not to worry her by your threats, or in 
 any other way soever." 
 
 Vranic having sworn again, was left free to get up and 
 go off. 
 
 When he was at a few paces from Uros he stopped, and 
 with a scowl upon his face he muttered : 
 
 " Those medals were not blessed, so you can use your 
 dagger now, if you like, and I shall use my tongue, we shall 
 see which of us two will suffer most ; anyhow, remember the 
 proverb, ' Where the goat breathes, even the vine withers.' " 
 
 Then, stooping down, he gathered a handful of stones and 
 flung them with all his might at Uros, after which he took 
 to his heels and ran off with all his might. 
 
 The stones went hissing by Uros, but one of them caught 
 
 4—2
 
 52 POBRATIM 
 
 him on his brow, grazing off the skin and covering his eyes 
 with blood. Uros, blinded by the stone, remained standing 
 for a while, and then, seeing that Vranic had rmi off, he went 
 np to Milena's door and tapped lightly. 
 
 " Milena," said he, " have you heard the quarrel I have 
 had with Vranic ? " 
 
 " Yes, did he hurt you ? " 
 
 " Only a mere scratch." 
 
 " Nothing more ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Surely ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " 
 
 Milena would willingly have opened the door to see if 
 Uros was only scratched, but she was in too great a trepi- 
 dation to do so. 
 
 " Well," added she, " if you are not hurt, please go away." 
 
 " But are you not afraid Vranic might come back ? " 
 
 " Well, and if he does ? He'll find the door shut as before. 
 Moreover, I'm by no means afraid of him, he is the greatest 
 coward, or at least the only coward, of the town ; therefore 
 do not stay here on my account, you can do me no good." 
 
 " Then you do not want me ? " said Uros, in a lingering 
 way, and with a sigh. 
 
 " No ; go," quoth she. " If you love me, go." 
 
 Uros turned his back on the cottage and wended his steps 
 homewards. The moon was now rising above the hills in 
 the distance. Milena went to the window and looked at 
 the young man going off. Her heart yearned after him as 
 he went, and she fain would have called him back. 
 
 Poor fellow, he had fought for her, he was wounded, and 
 now she let him go off like that. It was not right. Was his 
 wound but a scratch ? She ought to have seen after it. It 
 was very ungrateful of her not to have looked after it. 
 
 All at once Uros stopped. Her heart began to beat. He 
 turned round and came back on his steps. At first she was 
 delighted, then she was disappointed. She wished he had 
 not turned back. 
 
 He walked back slowly and stealthily, trying to muffle his 
 steps. 
 
 What was he going to do ? 
 
 Milena ran to the door and put her ear close to the 
 key-hole.
 
 FOB RATI M 53 
 
 She heard Uros come up to the very sill and then it 
 seemed to her that he had sat or crouched upon the step. 
 
 Was he hurt ? Was he going to stay there and watch over 
 the house like a faithful dog ? 
 
 She waited a while ; not the slightest sound was heard ; 
 she could hardly keep still. At last, unable to bear it any 
 longer : 
 
 " Uros," said she, " is that vou ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And what are you doing there ? " 
 
 " I was going to watch over you." 
 
 Overcome by this proof of the young man's love, Milena 
 slowly opened the door, and taking Uros by both his hands 
 she made him come in. 
 
 The wind did not rise and the brigantine rode still at 
 anchor in the bay. The days passed, and at last merry 
 Christmas was drawing near. The pobvatiin — though anxious 
 to be oft' — hoped that the calm weather would last for a 
 week longer, that they might pass the badnji-vecer — or the 
 evening of the log — and Christmas Day with their parents. 
 
 Their wishes were granted ; one day passed after the other 
 and the weather was always most beautiful. Not the slightest 
 cloud came either to dim or enhance the limpid blue sky, and 
 though the mornings were now rather fresh, the days were, as 
 yet, delightfully warm and radiant with sunshine. In the 
 gardens the oleanders were all in full bloom, so were also the 
 roses, the geraniums and the China asters ; whilst in the field 
 many a daisy was seen glinting at the modest speedwell, and 
 the Dalmatian convolvulus entwined itself lovingly around the 
 haughty acanthus, which spread out their fretted leaves to the 
 sun, taking up as much space as well they could, while in damp 
 places the tall, feathery grasses grew amidst the sedges, the 
 reeds, and the rushes and all kinds of rank weeds of glowing 
 hues. Not a breath of wind came to ripple the surface of the 
 shining blue waters. 
 
 On the 24th a little cloud was seen far off, the colour of the 
 waters grew by degrees of a dull leaden tint, and the wind 
 began to moan. In the meanwhile the cloudlet that had been 
 the size of a weasel grew to be as big as a camel, then it 
 swelled out into the likeness of some huge megatherium, it 
 rolled out its massy coils and overspread the whole space 
 of the sky. Then the clouds began to lower, and seemed to
 
 54 POBRA TIM 
 
 cover the earth with a ponderous lid. The wind and the cold 
 having increased, the summer all at once passed away into 
 dreary and bleak winter. 
 
 Christmas was to be kept at Milos Bellacic's house, for 
 though the two families had always been on the most friendly 
 terms, they, since the day upon which the two young men had 
 become pobratim, got to be almost one family. Some other 
 friends had been asked to come and make merry with them 
 on that evening. Amongst other guests Zwillievic, Milena's 
 father, who was a cousin of Bellacic's, having come with his 
 wife to spend the Christmas hohdays at Budua, had accepted 
 his kinsman's hospitality. Milena had also been asked to come 
 and pass those days merrily with her parents. 
 
 At nightfall, all the guests being already assembled, the 
 yule-log, the huge bowl of an olive tree, was, with great ado, 
 brought to the house. Bellacic, standing on the threshold with 
 his cap in his hand, said to it : 
 
 " Welcome log, and may God watch over you." 
 
 Then, taking the biicara or wooden bottle, he began to sprinkle 
 it with wine, forming a cross as he did so, then he threw some 
 wheat upon it, calling a blessing upon his house, and upon all 
 his guests, who stood grouped behind him, after which all the 
 guests answered in chorus, " And so be it." Thereupon all the 
 men standing outside the house fired off their guns and pistols 
 to show their joy, shouting : " May Christmas be welcome to 
 you." 
 
 After this Uros brought in his own log and the same cere- 
 mony had once more to be gone through. 
 
 The logs were then festively placed upon the hearth, where 
 they had to burn the whole night, and even till the next 
 morning. 
 
 In the meantime a copious supper was prepared and set 
 upon the table. In the very midst, taking the place of an 
 cpergne, there was a large loaf, all trimmed up with ivy and ever- 
 greens, and in the centre of this loaf there were thrust three 
 wax candles carefully twisted into one, so as to form a taper, 
 which was lit in honour of the Holy Trinity. Christmas Eve 
 being a fast day, the meal consisted of fish cooked in different 
 ways. 
 
 First, there was a pillau with scallops, then cod — which is 
 always looked upon as the staple fare of evening — after which 
 followed pickled tunny, eels, and so forth. The starescina.
 
 FOB RATI M 55 
 
 taking a mouthful of every dish that was brought upon the 
 table, went to throw it upon the burning log, so that it might 
 bring him a prosperous year ; his son then followed his 
 example. 
 
 After all had eaten and were filled, they gathered around 
 the hearth and squatted down upon the straw with which 
 the floor was strewn — for, in honour of Christ, the room had 
 been made to look as much as possible like a manger, or a 
 stable. They again greeted each other with the usual compli- 
 ments, " for many years," and so forth, and black coffee was 
 served in Turkish fashion, that is, in tiny cups, held by a 
 kind of silver, or silvered metal, egg-cup instead of a saucer. 
 Most everyone loosened his girdle, some took off their shoes, 
 and all made themselves comfortable for the night. There- 
 upon Milenko, who was somewhat of a bard and who had 
 studied an epic song for the occasion, one of those heroic 
 and wild junaske, took his guzla, and gave the company the 
 story of " Marko Kraglievic and the Moor of Primorye," as 
 follows : — 
 
 Kraglievic Marko i Crni Arapin. 
 
 An Arab lord had once in Primorye, 
 
 A mighty castle by the spray-swept shore ; 
 Its many lofty halls were bright and gay, 
 
 And Moorish lads stood watching at each door. 
 Albeit its wealth, mirth never echoed there ; 
 
 Its lord was prone to be of pensive mood, 
 And oft his frown would freeze the very air ; 
 
 On secret sorrow he e'er seemed to brood. 
 At times to all his svaii would he say : 
 
 " What do I care for all this wide domain. 
 Or for my guards on steeds in bright array ? 
 
 Much more than dazzling pomp my heart would fain 
 Have some fond tie so that the time might seem 
 
 Less tedious in its flight. I am alone. 
 A mother's heart, a sister's, or, I deem, 
 
 A bride's would be far more than all I own." 
 Thus unto him his liegemen made reply : 
 " O, mighty lord ! they say that Russia's Czar 
 Has for his heir, a daughter meek and shy. 
 
 Of beauty rare, just like the sparkling star 
 That gleams at dawn and shines at eventide. 
 
 Now, master, we do wait for thy behest. 
 Does thy heart crave to have this maid for bride ? 
 
 Say, shall we sally forth unto her quest ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 The master mused a while, then answered : "Aye, 
 
 By Allah ! fetch this Russian for my mate ! 
 Tell her she'll be the dame of Primorye, 
 
 The mistress of my heart and my estate. 
 But stop. — If Russia should not grant his child. 
 
 Then tell him I shall kill his puny knights, 
 And waste his lands. Say that my love is wild. 
 
 Hot as the Lybian sun, deep as the night ! " 
 Now, after riding twenty days and more, 
 
 The svati reached at last their journey's end, 
 Then straightway to the Russian King they bore 
 
 Such letters as their lord himself had penned. 
 The great Czar having read the Moor's demand, 
 
 And made it known to all his lords at Court, 
 Could, for awhile, but hardly understand 
 
 This strange request; he deemed it was in sport. 
 A blackamoor to wed his daughter fair ! 
 
 " I had as lief," said he, " the meanest lad 
 Of my domains as son-in-law and heir. 
 
 Than this grim Moor, who must in sooth be mad." 
 But soon his wrath was all changed into grief, 
 
 On learning to his dread and his dismay. 
 That not a knight would stir to his relief. 
 
 No one would fight the Moor of Primorye ! 
 Howe'er the Queen upon that very night 
 
 Did dream a dream. Within Prilipii town. 
 Beyond the Balkan mounts, she saw a knight, 
 
 Whose mighty deeds had won him great renown. 
 (Kraglievic Marko was the hero's name) ; 
 
 His flashing sword was always seen with awe 
 By faithless Turks, who dreaded his great fame ; 
 
 And in her dream that night the Queen then saw 
 This mighty Serb come forth to save her child. 
 
 Then did the Czarin to her lord relate 
 The vision which her senses had beguiled. 
 
 And both upon it long did meditate. 
 Upon the morrow, then, the Czar did write 
 
 To Marko, asking him to come and slay 
 This haughty Moor, as not a Russian knight 
 
 Would deign to fight the lord of Primorye. 
 As meed he promised him three asses stout, 
 
 Each laden with a sack of coins of gold. 
 As soon as Marko read this note throughout, 
 
 These words alone the messenger he told : 
 " What if this Arab killed me in the strife, 
 
 And from my shoulders he do smite my head. 
 Will golden ducats bring me back to life ? 
 
 What do I care for gold when I am dead ? " 
 The herald to the King this answer bore.
 
 POBRA TIM 57 
 
 Thereon the Queen wrote for her daughter's sake : 
 " Great Marko, I will give thee three bags more, 
 
 Six bags in all, if you but undertake 
 To free my daughter from such heinous fate, 
 
 As that of having to become the bride 
 Of such a man as that vile renegade." 
 
 To Prilipu the messenger did ride, 
 But Marko gave again the same reply. 
 
 The Czar then summoned forth his child to him : 
 " Now 'tis thy turn," said he ; "just write and trj- 
 
 To get the Serb to kill this man whose whim 
 Is to have thee for wife." The maid thus wrote : 
 
 " O Marko, brother mine, do come at once. 
 I beg you for the love that j'ou devote 
 
 To God and to St. John, come for the nonce 
 To free me from the Moor of Primorye. 
 
 Seven sacks of gold I'll give 3-ou for this deed, 
 And, if I can this debt of mine repay, 
 
 A shirt all wrought in gold will be your meed. 
 Moreover, you shall have my father's sword ; 
 
 And as a pledge thereon the King's great seal. 
 Which doth convey to all that Russia's lord 
 
 Doth order and decree that none shall deal 
 Its bearer harm ; no man shall ever slay 
 
 You in his wide domains. Come, then, with speed 
 To free me from the lord of Primorye." 
 
 To Prilipu the herald did proceed 
 AVith all due haste ; he rode by day and night, 
 
 Through streams and meads, through many a bushy dell ; 
 At last at Marko's door he did alight. 
 
 When Marko read the note, he answered: " Well — " 
 Then mused a while, then bade the young page go. 
 
 But said the youth : " What answer shall I give ? " 
 " Just say I answered neither yes nor no." 
 
 The Princess saw that she would ne'er outlive 
 Her dreadful doom, and walking on the strand, 
 
 There, 'midst her sobs, she said : " O thou deep sea. 
 Receive me in thy womb, lest the curst brand 
 
 Of being this man's wife be stamped on me." 
 Just when about to plunge she lifts her eyes, 
 
 And lo ! far off, a knight upon a steed. 
 Armed cap-a-pie, advancing on, she spies. 
 
 " Why weepest thou, O maid ? tell me thy need. 
 And if my sword can be of any use . . ." 
 
 " Thanks, gentle sir. Alas ! one knight alone 
 Can wield his brand for me ; but he eschews 
 
 To fight." 
 
 " A coward, then, is he." 
 
 " 'Tis known
 
 58 POBRA TIM 
 
 That he is brave." 
 
 " His name ? " 
 
 " He did enrich 
 
 The soil with Turkish blood at Cossovo. 
 You sure have heard of Marko Kraglievic." 
 
 Thereon he kissed her hand and answered low : 
 " Well, I am he ; and I come for your sake. 
 
 Go, tell the Czar to give thee as a bride 
 Unto the Moor; then merry shall we make 
 
 In some mehan, and there I shall abide 
 The coming of the lord of Primorye." 
 
 The Princess straightway told the Czar, and he 
 At once gave orders that they should obey 
 
 All that the Serb might bid, whate'er it be. 
 That night with all his men the Arab came — 
 
 Five hundred liegemen, all on prancing steeds ; 
 The Czar did welcome them as it became 
 
 Men high in rank, and of exalted deeds. 
 Then, after that, they all went to the inn. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Moor, as they were on their way, 
 " How all are scared, and shut themselves within 
 
 Their homes ; all fear the men of Primorye." 
 But, as they reached the door of the mehan. 
 
 The Arab, on his horse, would cross the gate. 
 When, on the very sill, he saw a man 
 
 Upon a steed. This sight seemed to amate 
 The Arab lord. But still he said : " Stand off ! 
 
 And let me pass." 
 
 " For you, this is no place, 
 Miscreant heathen dog ! " 
 
 At such a scoff 
 Each angry liegeman lifted up his mace. 
 
 Thereon 'twixt them and him ensued a fight, 
 Where Marko dealt such blows that all around 
 
 The din was heard, like thunder in the night. 
 He hacked and hewed them down, until a mound 
 
 Of corpses lay amid a pool of blood. 
 For trickling from each fearful gash it streamed. 
 
 And wet the grass, and turned the earth in mud 
 Of gore ; whilst all this time each falchion gleamed, 
 
 For Marko's sword was ruthless in the fray. 
 And when it fell, there all was cleaved in twain ; 
 
 No coat of mail such strokes as his could stay, 
 Nor either did he stop to ascertain 
 
 If all the blood that trickled down each limb 
 Was but that of the foe and not his own. 
 
 And thus he fought, until the day grew dim. 
 And thus he fought, and thus he stood alone 
 
 Against them all ; till one b)' one they fell,
 
 POBRA TIM 59 
 
 As doth the corn before the reaper's scythe, 
 
 Whilst their owh curses were their only knell ! 
 The Serb, howe'er, was still both strong and lithe. 
 
 When all the swarthy Arabs round him lay. 
 " Now 'tis thy time to die, miscreant knight ! " 
 
 He called unto the Moor of Primorye. 
 With golden daggers they began to fight ; 
 
 They thrust and parried both with might and main ; 
 But soon the Arab sank to writhe in pain. 
 
 Then Marko forthwith over him did bend 
 To stab him through the heart. Then off he took 
 
 His head, on which he threw a light cymar 
 (For 'twas, indeed, a sight that few could brook) : 
 
 Thus covered up, he took it to the Czar. 
 Then Marko got the Princess for his wife — 
 
 Besides the gold that was to be his meed, 
 And from that day most happy was his life. 
 
 Known far and wide for many a knightl)' deed. 
 
 The merry evening came to an end ; in the meanwhile the 
 weather had undergone another transformation. The cold 
 having set in, the thin sleet had all at once changed into snow. 
 The tiny patches of ice and the little droplets of rain had 
 swelled out into large fleecy flakes, which kept fluttering about 
 hither and thither, helter-skelter, before thej' came down to the 
 ground ; they seemed, indeed, to be chasing one another all 
 the time, with the grace of spring butterflies. Even when the 
 flakes did fall it was not always for long, for the wind, creeping 
 slily along the earth, often lifted them up and drove them far 
 away, whirling them into eddies, till at last they were allowed 
 to settle down in heaps, blocking up doors and windows ; or 
 else, flying away, they ensconced themselves in every nook and 
 corner, in every chink and cranny. 
 
 That evening, when the good Christians went to church to 
 hear the oft-repeated tidings of great joy, uttered by the vladika, 
 or priest, in the sacramental words : Mir Bogig, Christos se rode. 
 or "The peace of God be with you, Christ is born " ; and when, 
 after midnight, they returned home, while huge logs were 
 blazing on every hearth, they hardly knew again either the 
 town or its neighbourhood, all wrapped up in a mantle of 
 dazzling whiteness ; the sight was a rather unusual one, for the 
 inhabitants of Budua had seen snow but very seldom. 
 
 The whole Christmas Day was spent very pleasantly in going 
 about from house to house, wishing everyone joy and happiness, 
 or receiving friends at home and drinking bumpers to their
 
 6o POBRA TIM 
 
 health. It was, indeed, a merry, forgiving time, when the 
 hearts of men were full of kindness and good-will, and peace 
 reigned upon earth. 
 
 There were, indeed, some exceptions to the general rule of 
 benevolence, for, now and then, some man, even upon that 
 hallowed daj', bore within his breast but a clay-cold heart, in 
 which grudge, envy and malice still rankled, and the Christmas 
 greetings, wheezed through thin lips, had but a chilling and 
 hollow sound. 
 
 The very first person who came to Bellacic's house early on 
 Christmas morning was Vranic, the spy. It was not out of love 
 that he came. He had been sneaking about the house, casting 
 long, prying glances from beneath the hood of his kabanica, or 
 great-coat, trying to find out whether Milena were there, for he 
 knew that she had not passed the night in her own house. 
 
 All at once, whilst he was sneaking about, he was met by 
 several young men, bent on their Christmas rounds of visits ; 
 they took him along with them, and, though quite against him- 
 self, he was the first to put his foot in Bellacic's house upon 
 that day. 
 
 According to the Slav custom, he was asked, after the usual 
 greetings, to tap the yule log with his stick. He at once com- 
 plied, with as much good grace as he could muster, uttering the 
 well-known phrase : 
 
 " May you have as many horses, cows, and sheep as the 
 badnjak has given you sparks." 
 
 Knowing that while he was saying these words every member 
 of the family, and every guest gathered together around him, 
 would hang upon his looks, trying to read in his face whether 
 the forthcoming year would be a prosperous one, for the ex- 
 pression of the features, as well as the way in which these 
 words are uttered, are reckoned to be sure omens, Vranic, 
 therefore, tried to put on a pleasant look and a good-natured 
 appearance, but this was so alien to his nature that he was by 
 no means sure of success. 
 
 Uros and Milena had, however, stood aloof ; they had under- 
 stood that the prediction must be unfavourable, and, though 
 they did not look up, they heard that the voice, which was 
 meant to be soft and oily, was bitter, hard and grating. 
 
 A gloom had come over the house just then ; it seemed as if 
 that man of ill-omen had stepped in to damp everyone's joy. 
 
 Uros remained stock-still, and though his fingers instinctively
 
 POBRA TIM 6 1 
 
 grasped the handle of his knife, still he was too much of a Slav 
 to harm a guest in his own house. As for Milenko, not having 
 any reasons for being so forbearing, he was about to thrust the 
 fiend out of his adopted parents' house, when Vranic, drawing 
 back from the hearth, caught his foot on the fag end of a log, 
 and, not to fall, stepped over it. This was the remainder of 
 that log which Uros had himself put upon the iire, and, accord- 
 ing to the traditional custom, it had been taken away from the 
 hearth before it had been quite consumed, for it was to be kept, 
 as the fire on New Year's Eve was to be kindled with it. Vranic 
 hardly noticed what he had done, but everyone present looked 
 stealthily at one another, and quietly crossed themselves. 
 Vranic, they knew, had come with evil thoughts in his head, 
 but now he had only brought harm upon himself, for it is well 
 known that whoever steps over a badnjak is doomed to die 
 within the year. 
 
 The seer went off soon after this, and then, when the other 
 well-wishers came, the gloom that he had left behind him was 
 dispelled, and the remainder of the Christmas Daj- was spent 
 in mirth and jollity.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 On the last day of the year the pohratim were sailing on 
 the waters of the Adriatic not far from the island of Lissa, now 
 famed in history for its naval wars. Soon the sun went down 
 behind a huge mass of grey clouds, and night set in when the 
 vessel was about to sail amidst that maze of inlets, straits, 
 channels and friths, which characterise all that part of the 
 Dalmatian coast. But, though the night was dark and wild, 
 their schooner was strong and stout, and accustomed to 
 weather such heavy seas. 
 
 A head-wind arose, which first began to shiver amidst the 
 rigging like a human being sick of a fever ; then it changed 
 into a slight wailing sound, so that it seemed at times the voice 
 of a suffering child tossing about in its cot unable to find rest. 
 The wind increased, and the sound changed into a howl like 
 the rage of untamed beasts; it was a horrible concert, where 
 serpents hissed, wild cats mewed and lions roared in and out 
 of time and tune; but not without a strange, weird, uncouth 
 harmony. It was the voice of the storm. Great Adamastor, 
 the genius of the foul weather, baffled at not being able to snap 
 all the ropes asunder and break down the straining masts, was 
 yeUing with impotent rage. He was, withal, a cunning old man 
 and knew more than one trick, for, after holding his breath for 
 a while, he would whisper no louder than a mother does when 
 her babe is asleep, and then again, he would begin to snicker 
 slily in a low, snorting way, until, all at once, he broke loose 
 into loud fits of fiendish, hoarse merriment. 
 
 Added to this head-wind, a heavy sea rolled its huge waves 
 against the prow of the ship and dashed the spray of its 
 breakers up its very sails ; then the strong rain would come 
 down in showers at every gust of wind. The elements seemed, 
 indeed, bent upon overwhelming the poor craft groaning at this 
 ill-treatment.
 
 POBRATIM 63 
 
 Eleven o'clock having just struck, Uros went below and 
 Milenko got ready to take up his watch. 
 
 Poor Uros! he was not only weary and wet to the skin — for 
 his huge kabanica, or overcoat, had been of little avail against 
 the pelting rain — but, worse than that, for the first time in his 
 life he felt home-sick and love-sick. He remembered the 
 pleasant Christmas Eve, the last night but one which he had 
 passed at home. Whilst the wind howled and the waves rolled 
 high he recalled to mind the many incidents of that evening, 
 which had been for him the happiest of his life, and there, in 
 the darkness of the night, Milena's bright and laughing eyes 
 were always twinkling before him. Her sweet looks, which he 
 had drunk down like intoxicating wine, had maddened his brain. 
 
 Hitherto Uros had been passionately fond of the sea, and 
 his great ambition was to be one day the master of a ship. 
 Now that his dream seemed about to be realised even 
 beyond his wildest ambition — for the brig was really a fine 
 ship — his heart was far behind on shore, and the sea had lost 
 its charm. That night especially he wished he could have 
 been back by his own fireside watching the remainder of the 
 yule-logs as they burnt away into cinders. 
 
 When Uros came down, the captain brought out a bottle of 
 some rare old genuine cognac, which on some former voyage 
 he himself had got at Bordeaux. Punch was made, Milenko 
 was called down and toasts were drunk to the health of the 
 absent ones, songs were sung about the pleasantness of a life 
 upon the wide, wide sea ; but the voice of the waves seemed to 
 jeer them, and then the captain fell a-thinking that he was 
 growing of an age when it was far more agreeable to remain 
 amidst his little brood at home. As for poor Uros, he thought 
 of the woman who lived in a lonely cottage, and he wondered 
 whether harm might not befal her, now that he was no more 
 there to watch over her. He thought that, after all, it was 
 useless to go roaming about the world when he might remain 
 at home tilling his father's fields. Milenko alone was of a 
 cheerful mood ; perhaps it was because he thought less of 
 himself and more of those around him. 
 
 Milenko came and went up and down like a squirrel, 
 keeping his watch and trying to cheer his friend. Still, 
 each time he went up and looked about, he found that the 
 wind was stronger and the waves rolled higher. Meanwhile 
 the captain, roused to a sense of dut}-, tried to enliven the
 
 64 POBRATIM 
 
 passing hours by telling old tales, comical adventures, and 
 strange sea legends. 
 
 Soon the storm increased apace, and Milenko had to remain 
 on deck ; but Uros, being tired and sleepy, was about to betake 
 himself to rest. Midnight had just struck, and the hands of 
 the clock were on twelve, a last cup was drained, and the 
 three seamen having thus seen the old year out and the new 
 year in, separated and each one went his own way. The clock 
 withal was rather fast, and it was only some moments after 
 they had separated from one another that the old year 
 breathed its last. 
 
 Before going to rest, Uros, who had slightly bruised his fore- 
 head just where Vranic had cut him with the stone, went to his 
 chest and took out of it a small round tin looking-glass and 
 opened it. He wished to see what kind of a scratch it had 
 left, and if the scar were healing. He had scarcely cast his 
 eyes upon it when, to his great surprise, lo, and behold ! far 
 from seeing his own face in the glass, Vranic's likeness was 
 there, staring vipon him with his usual leer ! 
 
 Uros was startled at this sight ; then, for a while he stood 
 as if transfixed, gloating on the image within the glass, 
 unable to turn away his eyes from it. Then, appalled as he 
 was, he almost dropped the looking-glass he was holding. 
 
 All at once remembering that it was midnight — the moment 
 when the old year passes into oblivion and the new one 
 rises from chaos — his hand fell, and he stood for a while, 
 pale, shuddering, and staring upon vacancy. But — recalled 
 to himself — he endeavoured to retrace the long string of 
 thoughts that had flitted through his brain, since he had 
 left the captain and Milenko up to the moment that he 
 had looked upon the glass, and Vranic was not amongst 
 them. His brain had been rather muddled by sleepiness and 
 brandy, and he had hardly been thinking about anything. 
 
 Having lifted up the glass to the height of his face, he for 
 a moment held his head averted, for he had really not the 
 courage to look upon it. 
 
 After a while he shrugged his shoulders, muttering to 
 himself: " I have always been thinking of Milena, and of 
 the last days I passed at home, so that now this man's face — 
 such as I had seen it on Christmas morning — has been im- 
 pressively recalled to my mind. It must be this and nothing 
 more."
 
 POBRA TIM 65 
 
 Still, the moment when he tried again to look upon the 
 glass, a vague terror came over him, and all his courage 
 passed away; it was just as if he were looking upon some un- 
 hallowed thing, as if he were indulging in witchcraft. But 
 curiosity prevailed once more, and as he did so, a trepida- 
 tion came all over his limbs. This time he was surely not 
 mistaken ; it was no vision of his overheated fancy, seen 
 with his mind's eye ; sleepiness and the effect of the 
 brandy had quite passed away, and still the glass — instead 
 of reflecting his own features — was the living portrait of the 
 man he hated. There he was, with his low forehead, his 
 livid complexion, his pale greyish-green eyes, his high cheek- 
 bones and his flat nose. 
 
 He was almost impelled to dash down the glass and 
 break it into pieces, but still he durst not do it ; a super- 
 stitious fear stopped him ; it was, as we all know, so very 
 unlucky to break a looking-glass by accident, but to break 
 it of his own free will must be far worse. 
 
 He now kept his eyes riveted upon the tiny mirror, and 
 then he saw Vranic's face slightly fade and then vanish 
 away; then the glass for a few seconds grew dim as if a 
 damp breath had passed upon it ; then the dimness dis- 
 appeared little by little, the glass again grew clear and 
 reflected his own pale face, with his eyes wildly opened, 
 glistening with a wild, feverish look. Now, he was not 
 mistaken ; Vranic was not to see another year ! 
 
 Uros had often heard it said that, if a young unmarried 
 man looks by chance in a looking-glass at the stroke of 
 twelve, just when the old year is dying out, he will perhaps 
 see, either the woman he is to marry in the course of the 
 year. Death, or a man of his acquaintance doomed to die 
 within the year. He had never tried it, because it is a 
 thing that has to be done by chance, and even then the 
 mirror does not always foretell the future. Now, the thing 
 happened so naturally, in such an unforeseen, unpremeditated 
 way, that there was no possibility of a doubt. Vranic, then, 
 was doomed to die. 
 
 A week before, his death had been predicted the moment 
 when he stumbled and slipped over the stump of the yule- 
 log — aye, it was his own log — now again his enemy's death 
 was foretold to him. 
 
 As he stood there with his glass in his hand, a thought 
 
 5
 
 66 POBRA TIM 
 
 struck him, and in answer to this, he lifted his eyes upwards 
 and begged his patron saint to keep his hands clean, and not 
 to make him the instrument of his enemy's death. 
 
 " He is a villain," muttered he to himself, " and he fully 
 deserves a thousand deaths; but let him not die by my 
 hand. If he dies of a violent death, let me not be his 
 executioner." 
 
 Uros stood there for some time as if bewildered and very 
 much like a man who had seen a ghost, afraid to look round 
 lest he should see Vranic's face gloating upon him ; then 
 shuddering, he ran upstairs to tell his adoptive brother all 
 that had happened, and the strange vision he had seen. 
 
 When Uros went up on deck, he found that the wind 
 had greatly increased, and that from a cap-full, as it had 
 been in the beginning, it had grown into a hurricane. The 
 sky was even darker than before ; the waves, swollen into 
 huge breakers, dashed against the prow of the ship, making 
 her stagger and reel as if she had been stunned by those 
 mighty blows. 
 
 The captain had now taken command of the ship, for all 
 that part of the Adriatic up to the Quarnero, with its 
 archipelago of islands, its numerous straits, its friths and 
 rock -bound inlets, v/here the mountains of the mainland — 
 sloping down to the water's edge — end in long ledges and 
 chasms all interspersed with sharp ridges, rocks and 
 sunken reefs, through which the ships have often to wind 
 carefully in and out, is like a perilous maze. The naviga- 
 tion of these parts, difficult enough in the day-time by fair 
 weather, is more than dangerous on a dark and stormy 
 night. 
 
 The ship, according to all calculation, had passed the 
 Punta della Planca, and was not very far from the port of 
 Sebenico. It was useless to try and take shelter there, 
 for the town is most difficult of access, especially during 
 contrary winds. 
 
 All that night the whole crew were on deck obeying the 
 captain's orders, for it was as much as they could do to 
 manage the ship, at war with all the elements ; besides, as 
 she rode forecastle in, she had shipped several seas, so 
 that, deeply-laden as she was, she wallowed heavily about, 
 and looked every moment as if she were ready to founder. 
 The storrn had now risen to the highest pitch, and the
 
 POBRA TIM 67 
 
 captain, who, as it has been said, was an elderly man, as 
 well as an experienced sailor, acknowledged that he scarcely 
 remembered a more fearful gale in the whole of his lifetime. 
 All waited eagerly for the first streaks of dawn ; for a 
 tempest, though frightful in broad daylight, is always more 
 appalling in the dead of the night. They waited a long 
 time, for it seemed as if darkness had set for ever over 
 this world. 
 
 At last a faint grey, glimmering light appeared in the 
 east ; then, by degrees, towards daybreak, the waters over- 
 head, and the waters underneath, had a gloomy, greyish 
 hue. Light spread itself far and wide, but the storm did 
 not abate. 
 
 Milenko, with his spy-glass in his hand, was searching 
 through the veil of mist that surrounded the ship, for some 
 island in the offing, when, all at once, he thought he could 
 perceive a dark speck not very far off. This object, 
 apparently cradled by the waters, was so dimly seen that 
 he could not even guess what it was ; but after keeping 
 his eyes steadily upon it, he saw, or rather, he thought he 
 saw, the hull or wreck of a ship, or a buoy. No, surely it 
 could not be a buoy floating there in the midst of the 
 waters. Was it not, perhaps, some foam -covered rock 
 against which the waves were dashing ? His eyes were 
 rooted upon it for some time, and then he was certain 
 that it was not a rock, for it moved, nay, it seemed to 
 float about. He pondered for a while. Could it not be, 
 he thought, the head of one of those huge sea-snakes, 
 upon which ships, having sometimes cast their anchors, are 
 dragged down into the fathomless abysses of the deep, 
 there to become the prey of this horrible monster ? It was 
 really too far off for him to understand what it was. 
 
 He waited for some time, then he strained his eyes, and 
 he saw that it could be nothing but a boat. He called 
 Uros to him, but his friend's sight being less keen than his 
 own, he could make nothing of it. The captain, having 
 come to them, could not distinguish the floating object at 
 all. As they steered onwards, they came nearer to it, and 
 then they found out that it was indeed the hull of a caique 
 or galley-boat, which, having lost its masts and rudder, was 
 tossed about at the mercy of the breakers, that always 
 seemed ready to swallow it up. The crew on board were 
 
 5—2
 
 68 POBRA TIM 
 
 making signs of distress, but it was a rather difficult task 
 to lend a helping hand to that crazy ship. It was im- 
 possible, with that heavy sea, for the brig to go alongside 
 of her, or to lie near enough for her crew to manage to get 
 on board. Nay, it was very dangerous for the brig to 
 attempt going anywhere near the caique, for the conse- 
 quences might have been disastrous if the wreck were 
 thrown against her, as the stronger one of the two would 
 thus have dashed the weaker vessel to pieces. 
 
 In this predicament Milenko volunteered to go in a little 
 boat, if any two men would go with him. At first all 
 refused, but when Uros said that he was ready to share 
 his friend's fate, another sailor came forth to lend a helping 
 hand in rescuing those lives in fearful jeopardy. 
 
 The pohratim having skilfully managed to get near enough 
 to the caique, so as to be understood, they called out to the 
 captain to throw them a rope overboard. This was done, 
 but the hawser, without a buoy, could hardlj^ be got at ; 
 it was, therefore, pulled back, a broken spar was tied at its 
 end, and then it was again cast overboard. 
 
 After a full half-hour's hard work, Milenko and his mates 
 managed to get to the floating hawser and to haul it up ; 
 then they rowed lustily back to the ship with it. The caique 
 was then tugged close to the brig's stern, which steered to- 
 wards the land as well as she could. 
 
 The poor bark, shorn of her masts, was in a wretched state, 
 and one of her men having gone down in the hold to see 
 how much water there was in her, found that she had sprung a 
 leak and that she was filling fast, notwithstanding all the exer- 
 tions of the men at the pump. 
 
 Though the storm had somewhat abated, still the caique was 
 now sinking, so that it was beyond all possibility to reach 
 the shore in time to save her. The two friends again got 
 into the boat, and went once more beside the wreck. This 
 time they managed to get near enough to save the crew 
 and the few passengers they had. When all were on 
 board, then this little boat, heavily laden with human lives, 
 was rowed back to the brig. After this, the rope which 
 bound the caique was cut off, and she was left to drift away 
 at the mercy of the waves, and, little by little, sink out of 
 sight. 
 
 The first person that Milenko had got into the little boat,
 
 POBRATIM 69 
 
 and who he now helped on board the brig, was a young 
 girl of about sixteen, but who, like the women of her 
 country, looked rather older than she was. After her came 
 her father and her mother, who were passengers on board 
 of the caique ; they had come from Scio, and were bound 
 for Nona, a small town near Zara. The young girl had, 
 throughout the storm, shown an extraordinary courage ; 
 nay, she had been a helpmate rather than an encum- 
 brance. But when she saw herself safe on board the Spera 
 in Dio (Hope in God)— for this was the brig's name — then 
 her strength failed her all at once, and she sank into a 
 deep swoon. Milenko, who had helped her on board, and 
 who was standing by her, caught her up in his arms, carried 
 her downstairs and laid her upon his bed. 
 
 Milenko had hitherto never cared for any woman ; but 
 now, as he carried this lifeless body, and he saw this pale, 
 wan, childlike face leaning on his shoulder, he felt a strange 
 unknown flutter somewhere about his heart. Then the sense 
 of his own manhood came over him ; he knew himself strong, 
 and he was glad to be able to shelter this frail being within 
 his brawny arms. 
 
 Having rescued this girl from the jaws of death, she seemed 
 to be his own, and his bosom heaved with a feeling quite 
 new to him. He would have liked to have gone through 
 life with this weak creature clinging to him for strength, just 
 as a mother would fain have her babe ever nestling on her 
 bosom. Now, having to relinquish her, he was glad to lay 
 her upon his own bed. for thus she still seemed to belong to 
 him. 
 
 Her mother was at once by her side, her father and 
 the captain soon followed, and all the care their rough 
 hospitality could afford was lavished upon her. As the 
 fainting-fit had been brought on through long fasting, as 
 well as by a strain of the nerves, a spoonful of the captain's 
 rare cognac had the desired effect of recalling her to life. 
 
 Coming to herself, she was astonished at seeing so many 
 sunburnt, weather-beaten, unknown faces around her; she 
 looked at them all, from one to the other, but Milenko's 
 deep blue eyes, wistfully gloating upon her own, attracted her 
 attention. She had seen him in the boat when he came to 
 their rescue, he had helped her on board ; and now, after 
 that fainting-fit, which seemed to have stopped the march of
 
 70 POBRA TIM 
 
 time for a while, she fancied she had known him long ago. 
 She looked first at him, then at her mother; then again at 
 him. After this, feeling as if she was quite safe as long as 
 her mother and that unknown young man^who still was no 
 stranger— stood watching over her, her heavy eyehds drooped, 
 and she fell into a light slumber. 
 
 The captain having persuaded the mother to take some 
 rest, all went to attend to their duties; still, Milenko softly 
 crept down every now and then to see if the women wanted 
 anything, and to have a sly look at the young girl sleeping in 
 his bed. As he stood there gazing upon her, he was conscious 
 that his senses had grown more mellow — that life henceforth 
 had an aim. This was the dawn of real love in a strong man's 
 breast. Whilst he was looking at her, the young girl woke 
 from her slumbers ; she opened her eyes, and her glances fell 
 again upon him. 
 
 "Where am I ?" she said, half-frightened. Then, recognising 
 the young man, she added : " Yes, I know, you saved my Hfe 
 when I was drowning." 
 
 The mother, hearing her daughter speak, yawned, stretched 
 out her arms and woke. 
 
 The storm had now abated. The dark clouds were quickly 
 flitting, and the sun, which had risen upon that first day of the 
 year, was now shining in all its splendour on the broad expanse 
 of the blue waters and upon the huge crested waves ; and the 
 sight was as exhilarating as it was delightful. 
 
 The poor wrecked family having gathered together on deck, 
 breakfast was got ready, and all sat down to the frugal meal 
 which the ship's provisions afforded. 
 
 When the breakfast was over, the father of the young girl — 
 who had been questioned several times as to the place from 
 where he was coming, to the port whither he was bound, his 
 occupation, and so forth — related to his guests the story of his 
 adventures, which can be abridged as follows : 
 
 " My name is Giulianic. Our family, though Slav and 
 Orthodox, is said to have been of Italian origin, and that the 
 name, years ago, was Giuliani. Still, I cannot swear as to the 
 truth of this assertion. My father in his first youth had gone 
 to the Levant, and had settled at Chios. He was a copper- 
 smith ; and, as far as I can remember, he was very prosperous. 
 He had a large and well-furnished shop, and employed a good 
 many workmen.
 
 POBRATIM 71 
 
 " I was the eldest of the family ; after me there came a girl, 
 who, happily for herself, died when she was yet quite a baby, 
 and before trouble befel us ; for had she been spared, she 
 doubtless would have ended her life in some harem, if not in a 
 worse way, losing thus both soul and body. After her came 
 two boys ; so that between myself and my youngest brother 
 there was a difference of about ten years, if not more. I was, 
 therefore, the only child of our family who knew the blessing 
 of a happy boyhood, for my early years, spent either in my 
 father's shop or in our country-house, were passed in bliss ; 
 but alas ! that time is so far off that its remembrance is only 
 like a dream. 
 
 "When I was about ten or twelve years — I cannot say 
 exactly how old I was, as all the registers have been destroyed 
 — a terrible revolution took place. It was, I remember, an 
 awful time, when Christian blood ran in streams through the 
 streets of towns and villages, when houses were burnt down, 
 and the whole island remained a mass of smouldering ruins. 
 
 " My father was, if I am not mistaken, the first victim of that 
 bloody fray ; like all men of pluck, and indeed like most men 
 of no pluck at all, he was butchered by the Turks. My 
 mother " 
 
 There was a pause. A tear glistened in the corner of the 
 old man's eye, then it rolled down his wrinkled cheek and 
 disappeared in the long, bristling white moustache ; his voice 
 faltered. Though more than half a century had passed since 
 that dreadful day, still he could hardly speak about it. After 
 a moment he added, drily : 
 
 " My mother fell into the hands of those dogs. I was 
 separated from my brothers. The youngest, as I was told, 
 was taken by those fiends. He was a bright, handsome boy;' 
 they made a Turk of him. My other brother disappeared ; for 
 days I sought him everywhere, but I could not find him. 
 
 " Before I go on with the story of my life, I must tell you 
 that all the men in the Giulianic family have, since immemorial 
 times, a bright red stain, like a small drop of blood, on the 
 nape of the neck, just about where the collar-bone is bound to 
 the skull. Its peculiarity is that its colour increases and de- 
 creases with the lunar phases. Besides this, my father in 
 those troubled times, foreseeing that the day might come when 
 we should be snatched from him, caused a little Greek Cross 
 to be tattooed upon us."
 
 72 POBRATIM 
 
 Here, suiting the action to the words, he bared his left breast 
 and showed us the holy sign just near the place where the 
 heart is seen to throb. 
 
 " Thus, to resume the story of my life, when I was hardly 
 twelve I found myself an orphan, alone and penniless. The 
 night of that dreadful day I went to cry by the smouldering 
 ruins of our house, looking if I could at least find the mangled 
 remains of that father whom I loved so dearly. When morning 
 came, I knew that I was not only turned adrift upon this wide 
 world, but that I had to flee, whither I knew not. I lurked 
 about in all kinds of hiding-places, and when I crawled out I 
 always seemed to hear the steps and the voices of those blood- 
 thirsty murderers. The falling leaf, the sudden flight of a 
 locust, the chirrup of an insect filled me with terror, and 
 indeed more than once, hidden within a bush or crouching 
 behind a stone, I saw the tall zeibeks, those fierce-looking 
 mountaineers, the scourge of the country far around, in search 
 of prey. For days I managed to live, I really do not know 
 how, but principally on oranges, I think. One day, being on 
 the strand and seeing a vessel riding at anchor at some dis- 
 tance, I swam up to it. The captain, who was a Dalmatian, 
 took pity on me, and brought me to Zara, whither his ship was 
 bound. From that time I managed to drag on through life; 
 still, I should not have been unhappy had I been able to forget. 
 
 "After several years of hard struggle, I at last went to Mostar ; 
 there fate, tired of persecuting me, began to be more favour- 
 able. I was prosperous in all my undertakings; I married ; then 
 my restlessness began to wear away, I thought I had settled 
 down for life. Had I only been able to find out something 
 about my lost brothers, I do not think anything more would 
 have been wanting to my happiness. 
 
 "Years passed, aye, a good many 3'ears since those terrible 
 days which had blighted my childhood, for my eldest child, who 
 died soon afterwards, was then about the age I had been when 
 I was bereft of kith and kin. It happened that one day — stop, 
 it was on Easter Monday — I was having a picnic with some 
 friends at a farm belonging to my wife's father. We were 
 sauntering in the fields, enjoying the beauty of the country, 
 which at that time was in all its bloom, when looking down 
 from a height upon the road beneath, we saw a cloud of dust. 
 We stopped to look, and we perceived at a few yards from us, 
 two or three panting men evidently running for their lives.
 
 POBRA TIM 73 
 
 " They were all armed, not only with daggers and pistols, but 
 also with long muskets. At twenty paces behind them came 
 half-a-dozen zaptiehs, or guards. 
 
 " The highwaymen, for such they seemed to us, evidently 
 tired out, were losing ground at every step, and the Turks were 
 about to overtake them. All at once the robbers reached a 
 corner of the road, just under the hill on which we were 
 standing ; there the foremost man amongst them stopped, and 
 after bidding the others to be off, he put his musket to his 
 shoulder. When the zaptiehs came nearer, he called to them 
 to turn back if they cared for their lives. There was a moment 
 of indecision amongst the guards ; each one looked upon his 
 neighbour, wondering what he would do, when the one who 
 seemed to be their officer took out his pistol and pointed it at 
 the highwayman, calling to him to give up. For all reply, the 
 robber took a deliberate aim at the Turk. Both men fired at 
 once. The guards, astonished, stood back for a trice. The 
 Turk fell, the highwayman remained unhurt ; thereupon he 
 laid by his gun and took out a revolver. The guards came up 
 and fired off their weapons ; the robber fell, apparently shot 
 through by many balls. 
 
 "The zaptiehs stopped for a moment to look at their com- 
 panion ; they undid his clothes. Life was already extinct ; the 
 highwayman's bullet had struck him above the left breast, 
 and, taking a downward course, it had pierced the heart. 
 Death must have been instantaneous. By the signs of grief 
 given to him, the man must have been admired and beloved 
 by his companions ; but their sorrow seemed all at once to 
 melt into hatred and a thirst for revenge, so that they all rose 
 and ran after the two fugitives, evidently hoping to overtake 
 them. 
 
 " I can hardly describe the feelings that arose in my breast at 
 that sight ; it was the first time in my life that I had beheld 
 the corpse of a Turk, not only without any feeling of exultation, 
 but even with a sense of deep pity. 
 
 " ' He was a brave man,' said I to my friends ; ' therefore he 
 must have been a good man.' 
 
 " As soon as the zaptiehs were out of sight, we ran down to 
 see the two men, and ascertain if life were quite extinct in them. 
 
 " I went up to the Turkish guard. I lifted up his lifeless head, 
 and, as I did so, my heart was filled with love and sorrow. He 
 was a stalwart, handsome man, in the flower of his years.
 
 74 POBRATIM 
 
 " ' Is he quite dead ? ' I asked myself; ' is he not, perhaps, 
 only wounded ? ' 
 
 " I opened his vest to look at the wound, and as I laid his 
 chest bare, there, to my astonishment, grief and dismay, below 
 the left breast, pricked in tiny blue dots, was the sign of the 
 holy Cross — the Greek Cross, like the one which had been 
 tattooed on my own flesh. 
 
 " I felt faint as I beheld it ; my eyes grew dim, my hands fell 
 lifeless. Was this man one of my long-lost brothers ? 
 
 " My strength returned ; with feverish hands I sought the 
 mark on the nape of the neck. It was full-moon ; therefore 
 the stain was not only visible, but as red as the blood which 
 flowed from his wounds. 
 
 " A feeling of faintness came over me again ; I knew that I 
 was deadly pale. I uttered a cry as I pressed the lifeless head 
 to my heart. 
 
 " This man, no doubt, was my youngest brother, whom those 
 hell-hounds had snatched away from our mother's breast upon 
 that dreadful day, and — cursed be their race for ever — they had 
 made a Turkish guard of him. 
 
 " His head was lying upon my lap ; I bowed upon it and 
 covered it with kisses. 
 
 " My wife and all my friends, seeing me act in such a strange 
 way, unable to understand my overwhelming anguish, thought 
 that I had been all at once struck with madness. 
 
 " ' What is the matter ? ' said my wife, looking at me with 
 awe-struck eyes. 
 
 " I could hardly speak. All I could do was to point with my 
 finger at the sign of the Cross on the zaptieh's breast. 
 
 " ' Can it be possible ? Is it your brother ? ' 
 
 " I mournfully nodded assent. Then, after a few moments, I 
 added that I had also found the family sign on the nape of this 
 man's neck. 
 
 " In the meantime help was given to the highwayman, who, 
 notwithstanding his wounds, was not quite dead, though he 
 had fallen into a death-Uke swoon. My father-in-law was 
 vainly endeavouring to bring him back to life, whilst I was 
 lavishing my sorrow and caresses upon the man I had so 
 longed to see. 
 
 " ' Let us take him away from here,' said I, trying to lift him 
 up ; 'he shall not be touched by those dogs. Christian burial 
 is to be given him ; he must lie in consecrated ground.'
 
 POBRA TIM 75 
 
 " ' But,' said my father-in-law 
 
 " ' There are no " huts." They have had his body in his life- 
 time ; they shall not have it after his death. Besides, his soul 
 will have no rest, thinking that its earthly shell lies festering 
 unhallowed. No; even if I am to lose my head, they shall not 
 put a finger upon him.' 
 
 " Instead of giving me an answer, my father-in-law uttered a 
 kind of stifled cry of astonishment. My wife, who was by his 
 side, shrieked out, looked wildly at me, and then lifted both her 
 hands to her head, with horror and amazement. 
 
 " What had happened ? 
 
 " I looked round. The highwayman, the man who had shot 
 my brother through the heart, was coming back to life ; he was 
 panting for breath, I looked at him. He opened his eyes. A 
 shudder came over me. There was a strange likeness between 
 the murderer and the murdered man. Perhaps it was because 
 the one was dying and the other was dead. 
 
 " My father-in-law, my wife and my friends looked at the 
 robber, then at me ; awe, dread, sorrow was seen in all their eyes. 
 
 " I looked again at the highwayman. He had moved a little ; 
 his jacerma was loosened, his shirt was torn open, his breast 
 was all bare. 
 
 " Horror ! There, under the left breast, I saw the sign of 
 the Greek Cross. 
 
 " For a moment I remained stunned, hardly knowing whether 
 I was in my senses or if I was mad. 
 
 " A feeling of overpowering fear came upon me ; it seemed 
 as if I were in the midst of a mighty whirlwind. For the 
 first time in my life I beheld the sign of the holy Cross with 
 horror and disma}'. 
 
 *' I lifted my hands up towards heaven in earnest supplication. 
 
 " A religious man prays, perhaps, two or three times a day ; 
 still, those are lip-prayers. Few men pray from the innermost 
 depths of their hearts more than ten times during their life, 
 and that, indeed, is much. At that moment my very soul 
 seemed to be upheaved towards heaven with the words that 
 came from my mouth. I entreated the All-wise Creator of 
 heaven and earth that this heydiike might be no kith and kin 
 to me, that his blood-stained hands might not be polluted with 
 a brother's murder. 
 
 " During these few instants, my friends had gently lifted the 
 dying man from the ground, and then they had sought for
 
 76 POBRA TIM 
 
 the family sign on the highwayman's neck. Like my brother's 
 and mine, that stain was there, of a blood-red hue. 
 
 " I left the body where life was extinct to tend the one where 
 a spark of life was yet lingering. Slowly and carefully we had 
 the bodies transported to my father-in-law's house. 
 
 " The Turkish guards on their pursuit of the robbers did not, 
 on their return, come back the same way. On the morrow a 
 search was made for their officer's body and for that of the 
 highwayman, but, not finding them, they came to the con- 
 clusion that they had been devoured by wild beasts. 
 
 "With great difficulty, and with much bribing (for, as 
 you yourselves know, even our own priests are fond of 
 backseesh) my dead brother was laid low in our churchyard, 
 and Masses were said on his earthly remains. The wounded 
 man lingered on for some days, between life and death, and 
 during all that time I was always by his bedside. He was 
 delirious, and by his ravings I understood that he hated the 
 Turks as much as I did, for he was always fighting against 
 them. We called a skilful surgeon of the Austrian army, who, 
 though he gave us but little hope, managed to snatch him from 
 the jaws of death. 
 
 " His convalescence was very slow, but health kept creeping 
 back. When he was quite out of danger I questioned him 
 about his youth, his early manhood, and the circumstances 
 that urged him to take to the daring life of a kkfte. There- 
 upon he related all the vicissitudes of his good and bad 
 fortune, which I shall resume as follows : 
 
 " ' I was born at Chios ; therefore, though I am of Slav origin 
 and I am called Giulianic, I am known throughout all Turkey 
 as the Chiot. You yourself must have heard of me. I re- 
 member but little of my family. My life begins with a terrible 
 date — that of the massacre of the Christians in my native 
 island. Upon that day I lost my father, my mother and two 
 of my brothers. Left alone, I was saved by a rich Greek land- 
 owner. He had friends amongst the Turks, and was, therefore, 
 spared when almost all our fellow-countrymen were butchered. 
 This gentleman, who had several girls and no boy, treated me 
 like his own son ; and when I reached early manhood, I was 
 engaged to my adopted father's eldest daughter. Those were 
 the happiest days of my life, and I should have been far 
 happier still, had my soul not been parched by an almost 
 irresistible desire for vengeance.
 
 POBRATIM 77 
 
 " 'The day of my wedding had already been fixed, when an 
 imprudent person happened to point out to me the man who 
 had done us a grievous wrong — the man who had torn our 
 baby brother from my mother's breast, the man whom I hated 
 even more and worse than those who had killed my father. 
 Well, as you can well understand, I slew that man. Put your- 
 self in my place, and tell me if you would not have done the 
 same ? 
 
 " ' After that deed it was useless to think of marrying. I fled 
 from Chios ; I went to Smyi-na. There I put myself at the 
 head of a gang of robbers. 
 
 " ' My life from that day was that of many heydukes ; that is to 
 say, we got by sheer strength what most people get by craft — • 
 our daily bread and very few of the superfluities of life. One 
 thing I can say : it is that neither I nor any of my men ever 
 spilt a single drop of Christian blood. It is true that I was the 
 bane of the Turks, and I never spared them any more than 
 they had spared us. I was beloved by the poor, with whom I 
 often shared my'bread ; treated with consideration by the rich, 
 who preferred having me as their friend rather than as their 
 enemy ; regularly absolved by the Church, whose feasts and fasts 
 I always kept. I was only dreaded by the Turks, who set a very 
 great price upon my head. Thus I got to be in some years a 
 rich and powerful man. I left Asia Minor and passed into 
 Europe, and then, feeling that I was growing old, I was about 
 to retire from my trade, when — when you saved my life.' 
 " ' And now,' I asked him, 'what are you going to do ? ' 
 " ' What 1 That, indeed, is more than I know.' 
 " He remained musing for some time, and then he added : 
 " 'When a man is without any ties, when he has drunk deep 
 the free mountain air, when the woods have been his dwelling- 
 place and the starry heaven his roof, when he has lived the 
 lawless life of a heyduke, can he think of cooping himself up 
 within the narrow walls of a house and live the life of other 
 men ? ' 
 
 " He stopped for a while, as if lost in his thoughts, and then 
 he added : 
 
 " ' The girl I loved is married ; my brothers whom I hoped 
 to meet again, and for whom I had bought the ground our 
 family once owned at Chios, are for ever lost to me — doubtless, 
 they perished upon that dreadful day — therefore, why should I 
 live to drag on a life which henceforth will be wearisome to me ? '
 
 78 POBRA TIM 
 
 " ' Well, then, what will you do ? ' 
 
 "'There is, perhaps, more work at Chios for me; I might 
 
 find out the men who murdered my father ' 
 
 '" No, no ; there is enough of blood upon your hands.' 
 " I thought you were a Slav ; as such you must know that 
 the men of our nation never forgive.' 
 
 " ' Listen ; if you should happen to meet one of your brothers, 
 if, like you, he were well off, would you not look upon his home 
 as your own, his children — whom you might love without 
 knowing — as your children ? ' 
 
 " ' I should love and cherish him, indeed; I should give him 
 the lands I bought for him at Chios. But, alas I what is the 
 use of speaking about such a thing ? It is only a dream, so 
 listen : no man, hitherto, has loved me for my own sake, so 
 as to risk his own life for me, as you have done, though, 
 indeed, I have met with great kindness during the whole 
 of my lifetime, and have had a great many friends. Well, 
 then, will you be my brother ? ' 
 
 " ' If I consented, would you remain with me, share my 
 heart and my home ? ' 
 " ' For ever ? ' 
 " ' For our whole life.' 
 " ' No, do not ask me that.' 
 
 " ' But should you find your brother after these many years, 
 how would you know him ? ' 
 
 " ' We have each a Cross tattooed on our left breast, as 
 
 you, perhaps, have seen ' 
 
 . " ' Besides this, a vanishing sign on the nape of the neck,' 
 said I, interrupting him. 
 
 " ' How do you know ? Have you ever met ? — or perhaps 
 
 you ' 
 
 " For all answer I opened my vest and showed him the 
 sign of the Greek Cross. His delight upon knowing me to 
 be his brother knew no bounds. He threw his arms round 
 my neck, kissed me, and, for the first time in his hfe, he 
 cried like a child. 
 
 " Time passed. He recovered his strength, but with it his 
 restlessness, and his craving for revenge. We soon removed 
 from Mostar to Ragusa, on account of his safety, and then 
 I hoped that the change of scenery would quiet him. Alas ! 
 this larger town was but a more spacious prison. From 
 Ragusa we went to Zara, and from there to Nona, for
 
 POBRATIM 79 
 
 Ragusa itself was too near Turkey. The change quieted 
 him for a short time ; but his roving disposition soon 
 returned, and then he talked of going to Chios. One day, 
 seeing that he was about to put his words into execution, 
 and feeling that I could not keep him with me any longer, 
 I told him who the Turkish zaptieh, against whom he had 
 fired, really was, and what blood was the last he had spilt. 
 
 "The blow was a terrible one; for days he seemed to be 
 stunned by it. Little by little, however, it changed the 
 current of his thoughts. He shortly afterwards gave up to 
 the Church his ill-gotten wealth, except the Chios estate, of 
 which he had made me a gift. Then he became a caloyer, 
 or Greek monk, and once a year he went on a pilgrimage 
 to Mostar, to pray upon my brother's tomb. From sinner 
 he turned saint ; but he pined like a wild bird in a cage. 
 He lingered for some time and then he died at Mostar, 
 where he was buried by the side of the zaptieh whom he 
 had killed. 
 
 " We had now been to Chios to look after our vineyards 
 and our orange groves ; but I must say that this island, 
 where I was born, is no home for me. I have lived away 
 from it the whole of my lifetime, and the remembrances 
 which it brings back to my mind are anything but pleasant. 
 We were on our way to Nona, and had almost reached 
 the goal of our voyage when that dreadful storm overtook 
 us, and had it not been for your kindness and bravery we 
 should all have been lost." 
 
 Evening had set in when Giulianic finished the story of his 
 life, just when the walls of Zara were in sight ; but as it 
 was too late to land, we spent New Year's night on board 
 the Spera in Dio.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 DUCK SHOOTING AT NONA 
 
 The weather was clear and bright on the second day of 
 the year. The sea was not only calm, but of the most beauti- 
 ful turquoise blue, not the slightest cloud was to be seen in 
 the sky, and the sun's rays were as sparkling and as warm 
 as if it had been a glowing day in the latter part of April 
 instead of early January. Nature looked refreshed and 
 coquettishly radiant; her beauty was enhanced by the storm 
 of the day before. 
 
 The red -tiled roofs of the higher houses, such as convents 
 and public buildings, the domes and spires of churches, 
 peeped slily over the town walls of Zara, and the brig, 
 the Spera in Dio, which that morning lay at anchor by 
 the wharf opposite the principal gate, the Porta San Griso- 
 gono, or Porta del Mare, as it is also called. 
 
 On the pier, along the wharf, on the strand, and within 
 the narrow street, a motley crowd is to be seen ; every- 
 one is gaily decked out in festive apparel; this sight is 
 one that would have rejoiced a painter, for few towns 
 present such a variety of dresses as Zara. There were 
 fair Morlacchi in white woollen clothes, their trousers fitting 
 them like tights, with their reddish hair plaited into a 
 little pig-tail ; tall and swarthy, long-moustachioed pandours, 
 handsome warlike men, that any stranger might mistake 
 for Turks, their coats laced and waistcoats covered with 
 silver buttons, bugles and large coins, glittering in the sun- 
 shine, that make them look, at a distance, as if dressed in 
 armour ; then there were peasants, whose cottages are built 
 on the neighbouring reefs, clad in tight blue trousers, 
 trimmed in red, red waistcoats laced in yellow, and brown 
 jackets embroidered in various colours ; country girls in 
 green dresses, red stockings and yellow shoes. These men 
 and women all wear shirts and chemises prettily stitched
 
 FOB R AT I M 81 
 
 and worked in all possible colours of silks and cottons. 
 Some of these embroideries of flowers and arabesques are 
 of the richest dyes, and the cherry-red is mingled with 
 ultramarine blue and leek-green ; they are sometimes inter- 
 woven with shells or tinsel ; their stockings and leggings 
 are bits of gorgeous tapestry, whilst the women's aprons 
 are like Eastern carpets. As for the jewellery, it varies from 
 rows of arangoes to massive gold beads studded with pearls 
 and other precious stones, similar to those which the 
 Murano manufactories have artistically imitated. 
 
 Amongst these peasants are to be seen tall, stately white 
 friars, portly grey friars, and stout and snuffy-brown friars ; 
 priests in rusty black, priests in fine broadcloth, with violet 
 stockings and shoes with silver buckles, priests of high and 
 priests of low degree. Then Austrian officers in white 
 jackets, Croat soldiers in tight trousers, Hungarians in laced 
 tunics. Lastly, a few civilians, who are very much out 
 of place in their ungainly, antiquated clothes. 
 
 On the morrow, it was found that the Spera in Dio 
 had been much damaged by the late storm, and that it 
 was impossible for her to sail without being thoroughly 
 repaired. The little ship-yard of Zara was too busy just 
 then to undertake the work, so Giulianic persuaded the 
 captain to proceed onwards as far as Nona, where he could 
 get shipwrights to work for him. Therefore, two days 
 after their arrival at Zara, they set sail for Nona, together 
 with their shipwrecked guests. The captain and his two 
 mates had now become intimate friends with Giulianic and 
 his family, who did their utmost to try and entertain the 
 3'oung men. 
 
 Nona, however, offers but few amusements, nay, hardly 
 any, excepting hunting; still, Giulianic being a great sports- 
 man, a shooting party was arranged on the brackish lake 
 of Nona, which at that time of the year abounds in coots, 
 wild ducks, and other migratory birds. 
 
 Milenko, though fond of this sport, vainly tried to stay 
 on board, thinking that an hour in Ivanika Giulianic's com- 
 pany was better than a whole day's shooting on the lake ; 
 but all the paltry excuses he gave for staying behind were 
 speedily overcome, so he had to yield to Uros and the 
 captain, and go with them. 
 
 The lake of Nona, which is just outside the old battle- 
 
 6
 
 82 POBRATIM 
 
 mented walls of the town, is about a mile in length; its 
 waters are always rather salty, on account of two canals 
 which at high tide communicate with the sea. 
 
 The little party, composed of the captain, his two mates, 
 Giulianic and some other friends of his, started for the 
 lake about an hour before sunrise; and towards dawn they 
 all got into the canoes that were there waiting for them, 
 as every hunter had a little boat and an oarsman at his 
 disposal. 
 
 They left the shores on different sides, and noiselessly glided 
 towards the place where the coots had gathered for the night, 
 surrounding them on every side, so as to cut away from them 
 every means of escape. 
 
 When they had reached the goal, the signal for beginning 
 the attack was given, a musket being fired from off the shore. 
 That loud noise, midst the stillness of early dawn, startled the 
 poor birds from their peaceful slumbers ; they at once foolishly 
 rise, fly and flutter about in all directions, but without soaring 
 to any great height. The slaughter now begins. Soon the 
 birds get over their first fright, and the hunters not to scare 
 them away, leave them a few moments' respite ; the coots then 
 seem loath to abandon such a rich pasture and turn back to 
 their sedges. Therefore they see the boats appear on every 
 side and hedge them within a narrow circle. They are once 
 more on the wing, ready to fly away. Greed again prevails 
 over fear ; the birds gather together, but do not make their 
 escape. Pressed closer by the hunters they at last rise all in 
 a flock. It is too late ; death reaches them on every side. All 
 at once, amidst the smoke and the noise, they make a bold 
 attempt to cross the enemy's line, but only do so in the greatest 
 confusion, flying hither and thither, helter-skelter, the one 
 butting against the other, and thus they all kept falling a prey 
 to the keen-eyed, quick-handed sportsmen. 
 
 At first the shores of the lake are but dimly seen through the 
 thick veil of mist arising from the smooth surface of the ripple- 
 less waters, as from a huge brewing-pan, and everything is of a 
 cold greyish hue, fleecy on the shore. But now the sun has 
 appeared like a burnished disc of copper amidst a golden halo ; 
 soon all the mist vanishes beneath his warm rays. The mellow 
 morning light falls upon the numberless feathered carcasses 
 that dye the waters of the stagnant mere. 
 
 The pulse of every sportsman flutters with excitement ; de-
 
 POBRA TIM 83 
 
 spair has given courage to the birds, which rise much higher than 
 before, and are making heroic efforts to break through the 
 lines. Soon the flurry that had prevailed amongst the birds, 
 falls to the lot of the sportsmen ; they give orders and counter 
 orders to the oarsmen, and the circle of boats has become 
 an entangled maze. 
 
 The lake now resounds, not so much with firing as with 
 shouts of merriment and peals of laughter, sometimes because 
 one of the boats has butted against the other, and one of the 
 hunters has lost his balance and got a ducking. The morning 
 being now far advanced, the sportsmen gather together for 
 breakfast, leaving time to the birds to get over their bewildered 
 state and settle quietly again in a flock round about their 
 resting-place. 
 
 In an hour's time the shooting begins again, but the head 
 is not so light, the sight so keen, nor the hand so quick as 
 before breakfast ; nay, it happened at times that the captain 
 saw two coots instead of one, and fired just between the two ; 
 besides, the birds were also in a more disbanded state, so that 
 the quantity of game killed was not what it had been in the 
 early part of the morning. Mirth, however, did not flag ; the 
 mist, moreover, having quite vanished, the beauty of the green 
 shores was seen in all its splendour. 
 
 Many of the youthful inhabitants of Nona had come to see 
 the sport, picking up some wounded bird bleeding to death in 
 the fields ; whilst many a countryman passing thereby, wearily 
 trudging towards his home, his long-barrelled gun slung across 
 his shoulder, shot down more than one stray coot that had 
 taken refuge in a neighbouring field, hoping thereby to have 
 escaped from the general slaughter. 
 
 At last, late in the afternoon, our sportsmen, heavily laden, 
 followed Giulianic to his house, to finish there the day which 
 they had so well begun. 
 
 Moreover, the men having risen so very early and being tired 
 out, fell to dozing. Uros had gone to the ship to see how the 
 repairs were getting on, and Milenko was thus left alone with 
 Ivanika, or Ivanitza, as she was usually called. This was the 
 opportunity he had eagerly wished for, to confess his love to 
 her ; nay, for two days he had rehearsed this scene over 
 and over in his mind, and he had not only thought of all he 
 would say to her, but even what she would answer. 
 
 Although he was said to be gifted with a vivid imagination, 
 
 6—2
 
 84 POBRATIM 
 
 now that he was alone with her he could hardly find a word to 
 say. It was, indeed, so much easier to woo in fancy than in 
 reality. 
 
 How happy he would have been, walking in the garden 
 with this beautiful girl, if he could only have got rid of his 
 overpowering shyness. How many things he could have told 
 her if he had only known how to begin ; but every mono- 
 syllable he had uttered was said with trepidation, and in a 
 hoarse and husky tone. Still, with every passing moment, he felt 
 he was losing a precious opportunity he might never have again. 
 
 He did not know, however, that, if his lips were dumb, 
 his eyes, beaming with love, spoke a passionate speech that 
 words themselves were powerless to express. Nor was he 
 aware that — though with maidenly coyness she turned her 
 head away — she still read in his burning glances the love 
 she longed to hear from his lips. 
 
 After a few commonplace phrases they walked on in silence, 
 and then the same thoughts filled their hearts with almost 
 unutterable anguish. In a few days the brig would be re- 
 paired, the sails unfurled, the anchor weighed ; then the broad 
 sea would separate them for ever. 
 
 The sun was just sinking beyond the waves, and the shiver- 
 ing waters looked like translucent gold ; a mass of soft, misty 
 clouds was glowing with saffron, orange and crimson hues, 
 whilst the sky above was of a warm, roseate flush. Little by 
 little all the tints faded, became duller, more delicate; the 
 saffron changed into a pale-greyish lemon green, the crimson 
 softened into pink. The sun's last rays having disappeared, 
 the opaline clouds looked like wreaths of smoke or pearly- 
 grey mists. 
 
 Milenko's heart felt all the changes that Nature underwent ; 
 his glowing love, though not less intent, was more subdued, 
 and though, in his yearning, he longed to clasp this maiden 
 in his arms, and to tell her that his life would be sadder 
 than dusk itself without her love, still he felt too much and 
 had not the courage to speak. Sometimes in the fulness of 
 the heart the mouth remains mute. 
 
 Now the bell of a distant church began to ring slowly — the 
 evening song, the dirge of the dying day. Ivanitza crossed 
 herself devoutly ; Milenko took off his cap, and likewise made 
 the sign of the Cross. Both of them stopped ; both breathed 
 a short prayer, and then resumed their walk in silence.
 
 POBRA TIM 85 
 
 After a few steps he tried to master his emotion and utter 
 that short sentence : " Ivanitza, I love you." 
 
 Then something seemed to grip his throat and choke him ; 
 it was not possible for him to bring those words out. Besides, 
 he thought they would sound so unmeaning and vapid, so far 
 from expressing the hunger of his heart ; so he said nothing. 
 
 Meanwhile the bell kept doling out its chimes slowly, one 
 by one, and as he asked himself whether it were possible to 
 live without this girl, whom he now loved so dearly, the 
 harmony of the bell chimed in with his thoughts, and said to 
 him : " Ay, nay ; ay, nay." 
 
 All at once, feeling that this girl must think him a fool if 
 he kept silent, that he must say something, no matter what 
 it was, and happening to see a lonely gull flying away towards 
 the sea, he said, in a faltering tone : 
 
 " Ivanika, do you like coots ? " 
 
 It was the only thing that came into his mind. She looked 
 up at him with a roguish twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 " Do you mean cooked coots or live coots ? " 
 
 Milenko looked for a while rather puzzled, as if bewildered 
 by the question. Then, taking the tips of the girl's fingers: 
 " I was not thinking of them, either alive or cooked." 
 
 Ivanika quietly drew her hand away. 
 
 " What were you thinking of, then ? " she said. 
 
 " May I tell you ? " 
 
 " Well, if you want any answer to your question," added she, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Please don't make fun of me. If you only knew " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 He grasped her hand, and held it tight in his. 
 
 " Well, how deeply I love you." 
 
 He said this in a tragic tone, and heaved a sigh of relief 
 when it was out at last. 
 
 The young girl tried to wrench away her hand, but he held 
 it fast. She turned her head aside, so that he could not see 
 the uncontrollable ray of happiness that gleamed within the 
 depths of her eyes. Her heart fluttered, a thrill of joy passed 
 through her whole frame ; but she did her best to subdue her 
 emotion, which might seem bold and unmaidenly, so that she 
 schooled herself to say demurely, nay almost coldly : 
 
 " How can you possibly love me, when you know so little 
 of me ? "
 
 86 POBRATIM 
 
 " But must you know a person for ages before j'ou love him, 
 Ivanitza ? " 
 
 " No, I don't mean that ; still " 
 
 " Though I have never been fond of any girl till now, and 
 therefore did not know what love was, still, the moment I saw 
 you I felt as if my heart had stopped beating. You may think 
 it strange, but still it is true. When I saw you with my spy- 
 glass standing bravely on the deck of your crazy boat, whilst 
 the huge billows and breakers were dashing against you, ever 
 ready to wash you away, then my heart seemed to take wings 
 and fly towards you. How I suffered at that moment. Every 
 time your boat was about to sink, I gasped, feeling as if I 
 myself was drowning ; but had the caique foundered, I should 
 have jumped in the waves and swum to your rescue." 
 
 Ivanitza's heart throbbed with joy, pride, exultation at the 
 thought of having the love of such a brave man. 
 
 " You see, I had hardly seen you, and still I should have 
 risked my life a thousand times to help you. It was for you, 
 and you alone, that I got into the boat to come to you, though 
 the captain and Uros at first thought it sheer madness ; and if 
 my friend and the other sailor had not accompanied me — 
 well, I should have come alone." 
 
 " And got drowned ? " 
 
 " Life would not have been worth living without you." 
 
 The young girl looked at him with admiring ej^es, and 
 nature, for a moment, almost got the mastery over her shy- 
 ness and the stern claustral way in which, like all Levantine 
 girls, she had been brought up ; for her impulse was to throw 
 herself in his arms and leave him to strain her against his 
 manly chest. Besides, at that moment she remembered what 
 a delightful sensation she had had when, awaking from her 
 swoon, she had felt herself carried like a baby in his strong 
 arms. Still, she managed to master herself, and only said : 
 
 " So, had it not been for you, we should all have been 
 drowned." 
 
 " Oh, I don't say that ! Seeing your danger, at the last 
 moment someone else might, perhaps, have volunteered to come 
 to your rescue, Uros and the captain are both very brave ; 
 only the captain has a family of his own, and Uros — — " 
 
 " What ! is he married ? " 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Milenko, laughing; "he is not tnarried, 
 but "
 
 POBRATIM 67 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 "Well, you see, he is in love; but please do not mention 
 a word about it to him or anyone else." 
 
 " Why, is it a secret ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is a very great secret — that is to say, not a very 
 great secret either, but it is a matter never to be spoken of." 
 
 "No? Why?" 
 
 " I can't tell you ; indeed, I can't." 
 
 " How you tantalise me ! " 
 
 " I'll tell you, perhaps, some other time." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " Well, perhaps, when " 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 " When we are married." 
 
 The young girl burst out laughing. It was a clear, silvery, 
 spontaneous, merry laugh ; but still, for a moment, it jarred 
 upon Milenko's nerves. He looked rather downcast, for he 
 was far from thinking the matter to be a joke. 
 
 " Why do you laugh ? " said he, ruefully. 
 
 " Because, probably, I shall never know your friend's 
 secret." 
 
 The poor fellow's brown complexion grew livid, the muscles 
 of his heart contracted with a spasm, he gasped for breath; 
 the pang he felt was so strong that he could hardly speak; 
 still, he managed to falter : 
 
 " Why, are you, perhaps, already engaged to be married ? " 
 
 " I ? " said she, with another laugh. " No." 
 
 " Nor in love with anyone ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then, don't you think " 
 
 He stopped again. 
 
 " Think what ? " 
 
 "Well, that you might love me a little some day? " 
 
 She gave him no answer. 
 
 " What, you don't think you could ? " he asked, anxiously. 
 
 " But I didn't say that I couldn't, only " 
 
 " Only what ? " 
 
 " A girl cannot always choose for herself." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Suppose my father chooses someone else for me ? " 
 
 " But surely he will not." 
 
 " Suppose he has already promised me — — "
 
 88 POBRA TIM 
 
 " Why go and suppose such dreadful things ? Besides, he 
 ought to remember that I risked my hfe to save yours; 
 that " 
 
 Milenko stopped for a moment, and then he added : 
 
 " Well, I don't like boasting ; still, if it had not been for me 
 — well, I suppose your caique would have foundered. No, tell 
 me that you love me, or at least that you might get to love me. 
 Let me ask your father " 
 
 " No, no; not yet." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Well, we hardly know each other. Who knows, perhaps, 
 the next port you go to " 
 
 Here she heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 " Well, what ? " asked the youth, ingenuously. 
 
 "You might see some girl that you might like better than 
 myself, and then you will regret that you have engaged your- 
 self to a girl whom you think you are obliged to marry." 
 
 " How can you think me so fickle ? " 
 
 " You are so young." 
 
 " So is Uros young, and still " 
 
 " Still ? " she asked, smilingly, with an inquisitive look. 
 
 " He is in love." 
 
 " With ? " 
 
 "A woman," said Milenko, gloomily. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you, only please don't mention it— with a 
 married woman. Are you not sorry for him?" 
 
 "No, not at all ; a young man ought not to fall in love 
 with a married woman — it's a sin, a crime." 
 
 "That's what I told him myself." 
 
 After a short pause, Milenko, having now got over his 
 shyness : 
 
 "Well, Ivanitza, tell me, will you not give me a little 
 hope ; will you not try to love me just a httle ? " 
 
 " Would you be satisfied with only just a little ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, then— I am afraid " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I shall have to love j-ou a good deal." 
 
 He caught hold of her reluctant hand and covered it with 
 kisses. 
 " If you think that your father might object to me because
 
 POBRA TIM 89 
 
 I am a seaman, tell him that my father is well off, and that 
 I am his only son. Both Uros and I have gone to sea by 
 choice, and to see a little of the world ; still, we are not to 
 be sailors all our lives." 
 
 Afterwards he began to ask her whether she would not like 
 to come and sail with him in summer, when he would be 
 master of the brig ; then again he ended by begging her to 
 allow him to speak to her father. 
 
 " No, not now. It is better for you to go away and see if 
 you do not forget me. Besides, neither your father nor your 
 mother know anything about me, and it may happen that they 
 have other views about you." 
 
 " Their only aim is my happiness." 
 
 " Still, they might think that you were wheedled " 
 
 " How could they think so ill of you ? " 
 
 " You forget that they do not know me. Anyhow, it is more 
 dutiful that you should speak to them before you speak to my 
 father." 
 
 " Well, perhaps you are right. Only, you see, I love you so; 
 I should be so frightened to lose you." 
 
 " It is not likely that anybody will think of me for some 
 years yet." 
 
 " Well, then, promise me not to marry anyone else. In a 
 year's time, then, I shall come and speak to your father. Will 
 you promise ? " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " Will you give me a pledge ? " 
 
 She gave him her hand, but he gently pulled her towards 
 him, clasped her in his arms, and kissed her rosy lips. Then 
 they both went into the house.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BULLIN-MOST 
 
 " I SUPPOSE you have been to Knin and Dernis ? " said the 
 captain by chance after dinner to his host, speaking about the 
 trade with the interior, whilst puffing away at the long stem of 
 his cherry-wood pipe. 
 
 " Of course. Haven't you ? " 
 
 "Oh, no I we sailors are always acquainted with the coasts 
 of countries, nothing more. What kind of a place is this Knin ? " 
 
 " Much of a muchness, like other places. The country, how- 
 ever, is fine and picturesque. There is, besides, the Bullin- 
 Most." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " The name of a bridge at the entrance of the town, and 
 almost at the foot of the fortress which tops the crags. It is 
 called the Bullin-Most, or the Bridge of the Turkish Woman. 
 Formerly it used to be called the Bridge of the Two Torrents." 
 
 " Well, and what is there remarkable about it ? " 
 
 " Don't you know the tale of ' Hussein and Ayesha' ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It is the subject of one of Kacic's finest poems. Would 
 you like to hear it ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Well, then, about two hundred years ago, more or less, 
 Kuna Hassan was the governor of Knin and of the neighbour- 
 ing province. This Aga was said to be a man of great wisdom 
 and courage ; but his many qualities were marred by his 
 severity towards the Christians, whom he hated, and sub- 
 jected to all kinds of vexations and cruel treatment. 
 
 " This Aga had a numerous family, being blessed with many 
 children by his several wives ; but Ayesha, the only daughter 
 of his favourite wife, was the child in whom he had put all the 
 fondness of his heart. She was, it is true, a girl of an extra-
 
 POBRATIM 91 
 
 ordinary beauty. Her skin, they say, was as white as the 
 snowy peaks of the Dinara, the mountain over against the fort 
 of Knin ; her eyes were black, but they sparkled softly, like the 
 star which shines at twilight ; her curly hair had the colour 
 of the harvest moon's mellow light. 
 
 " All the vati of her father's palace were in love with her, only 
 hearing her beauty extolled by the eunuchs of the harem, and 
 seeing her glorious eyes sparkle through her veils, or the tips 
 of her tapering fingers, as she held her fer edge. 
 
 " The principal lords of Kuna Hassan Aga's Court were, first, 
 Ibrahim Velagic, the Dizdar of Stermizza ; then Mujo Jelascovic, 
 the governor of Biscupia ; lastly old Sare the Bitlju Pasha, or 
 lieutenant of the troops. The old Sare had a son named 
 Hussein, who was the standard-bearer ; he was the most 
 beautiful young man of the land, nay, it was difficult to find 
 his like. He was, indeed, as handsome as Ayesha was comely. 
 The one was like a lily, the other like a pomegranate flower. 
 
 " At that time, as I have said before, the Christians were 
 groaning under the Turkish yoke, and several attempts had 
 already been made to shake it off ; nay, many of the struggles 
 which had taken place between the Turks and the men of the 
 Kotar had been most successful, as they had for their chief, 
 Jancovic Stoyan, or Stephen, known in history as ' the 
 clearer of Turkish heads.' These continual skirmishes had 
 weakened our oppressors in such a way, and spread so much 
 fear amongst them, that Kuna Hassan never felt sure when- 
 ever he left his castle walls. Finding himself reduced to this 
 extremity, he determined to muster all the troops he could get 
 together and make war upon the Christians. 
 
 " And now," said Giulianic, " I think I can give you some of 
 Kacic's verses on this subject;" therefore, taking a guitar, he 
 sang as follows : 
 
 " A letter wrote Hassan Aga 
 From Knin itself, the white-walled town ; 
 He sent it to the bordering Turks, 
 To Mujo and to Velagic. 
 
 " And in this letter Kuna spake : 
 ' Oh ! brave men of my border-lands, 
 Now muster all your borderers, 
 And hie to Knin, the white-walled town. 
 
 " ' For we shall raid upon Kotar, 
 
 And there rich plunder shall we get
 
 9Z POBRA TIM 
 
 Both gold and young Molachian maids, 
 Shall be the prize of all the brave. 
 
 " ' Kotar will be an easy prey 
 
 For you, the warriors of the Cross ! 
 Besides, the Sirdars are away. 
 And Stoyan is in Venice now. 
 
 " ' Milikovic has fallen sick, 
 Mocivana has lost his horse, 
 Mircetic has sprained his hand. 
 And Klana to a feast is gone.' 
 
 " The Bulju Pasha heard all this. 
 And wisely answered to Kuna : 
 ' Forbear, Kuna Aga ; forbear 
 To make a raid upon Kotar ! ' " 
 
 Giulianic stopped to take breath. " The poem is long," 
 said he, " and I am old ; I shall relate the story in my own 
 words : — Well, Kuna Hassan Aga would not be dissuaded, 
 especially as the Dizdars were for it. The expedition took 
 place. Jelascovic and Velagic — called the snakes of the 
 empire, on account of their strength and craft — came to Kuna's 
 castle, bringing each man three hundred men with him. The 
 Aga mustered as many men himself, and with this little array 
 they set off for the Kotar. At first they were successful ; they 
 fell upon the open country, plundering and sacking, carrying 
 away young boys and girls as slaves, finding nowhere the 
 slightest opposition. It was not a war, but a military march ; 
 thus they went on until they reached the lovely meadows at 
 the foot of the hills of Otre, a most pleasant country, watered 
 by many rivulets. 
 
 " There they pitched their tents, and began to prepare their 
 meal and make merry. All at once as the sun went down, a 
 slight mist began to rise from the waters and from the marshes 
 of Ostrovizza, not very far off from there. As the day declined, 
 the fog grew denser, and when' night came on Jancovic Stoyan, 
 who had returned from Venice, together with the other Sirdars, 
 fell upon them, threw them upon the marshes, and not only 
 obhged them to give back all their plunder, but killed more 
 than six hundred of their men. It was only with great difficulty 
 that the Aga and the Dizdars got back to Knin ; they were all 
 in a sorry plight, regretting deeply not to have followed Sare's 
 advice. 
 
 " Shortly after this, Kuna Hassan, having recovered from the
 
 POBRA TIM 93 
 
 wounds he had received, gathered again all his chief warriors 
 together. Then he made them a long speech, saying that it 
 was time that the Christian hornets should be done away 
 with, and their nests destroyed, for, if left alive, they would 
 daily become more troublesome ; then he made them many 
 promises, so as to induce them to fight, but without much 
 success. At last he offered the hand of his handsome daughter, 
 who, as I have said, was indeed as beautiful as a heavenly 
 houri, and a bride fit for the Sultan, or the Prophet himself, to 
 the bold warrior who would bring him the head of Jancovic 
 Stoyan, or those of three hundred Christians. The prize he 
 requested was a great one, but the reward he offered was such 
 as to inflame the hearts of the greatest cowards. 
 
 " However, amongst the warriors that Kuna Hassan had 
 gathered together that day, neither old Sare nor his son, the 
 handsome standard-bearer, had been requested to attend, 
 doubtless, because the Aga had thought the Bulju Pasha too 
 old, and his son too young and too rash, for such an under- 
 taking. Perhaps he also felt a grudge against the Bulju Pasha 
 for having dissuaded him from the first attack, which had met 
 with such a bad success. 
 
 " When poor Hussein heard of the slight he and his father 
 had met with, he was very much grieved, for, though he was 
 the Aga's standard-bearer, he had been treated as a mere boy. 
 Moreover, he was madly in love with the beautiful Ayesha, 
 who returned his affection. In fact, whenever she had an 
 opportunity, she sent him a message by one of the eunuchs, 
 and every time he used to pass under her window she was at 
 the lattice, and she often dropped a flower, or even her hand- 
 kerchief, if no one was looking on. 
 
 " Hussein would have risked his life to try and obtain her ; 
 nay, he would even have gone to Zara and fight Stoyan, if he 
 could get her father's consent to wed her. 
 
 " As for the Sirdars, they were only too glad that Hussein was 
 not amongst the warriors called forth to strive for Ayesha's 
 hand, nor would they now allow any new pretender to come 
 forth and take part in their raids with them. 
 
 " During the many skirmishes that took place round about 
 Knin, Hussein had been left to take care of the castle, and then 
 he had succeeded in bribing the head eunuch to allow him to 
 talk with Ayesha. 
 
 "This keeper, knowing how fond his mistress was of the
 
 94 POBRA TIM 
 
 handsome standard-bearer, had consented to allow the lovers 
 to meet, while he watched over their safety. 
 
 "At first, when all the Mussulman warriors met with so 
 many losses, the lovers were happy, for they thought it 
 would be years before any of them could ask for their 
 reward ; but afterwards, when it was known that Velagic's 
 heap of heads was daily increasing, their gladness of heart 
 changed into the deepest sorrow. Both saw that there was 
 very little chance of their ever being able to marry, and 
 Ayesha, rather than give up the man she loved so deeply 
 and become the wife of the old Dizdar, whom she detested, 
 proposed to her lover that they should run away together. 
 
 "They waited till the very last moment, thinking that Velagic 
 might be killed, or some other unforeseen circumstance might 
 take place ; but they had no Kismet, for the Dizdar seemed 
 to have a charmed life ; he had already got together about 
 two hundred and ninety heads. How he had got them, 
 nobody could understand, for he had never received the 
 slightest wound in any of his many fights. 
 
 "The last time the lovers met, they agreed that the day 
 upon which Velagic brought the ten last heads they would 
 make their escape. Hussein, upon that night, was to be on 
 the rocks at the foot of the castle, somewhere near the place 
 occupied by the harem ; then, at midnight, when all the town 
 had sunk into rest, and all the lights were extinguished, Ayesha 
 would put a taper by her window to guide him if everything 
 was ready for their flight. After the muezzin had called the 
 faithful to prayers, she would open the lattice and throw- 
 out a rope-ladder, by means of which he would climb up 
 into the castle. There he was to be received by the eunuch 
 that had hitherto befriended him — be led to her chamber- 
 door. From there they would pass by an underground 
 passage, the keys of which she had. This passage had an 
 outlet, somewhere beyond the town, near the bridge, where, 
 indeed, there is a kind of den or hole. There Hussein was 
 to have swift horses ready, so that they might at once escape 
 to Zara or Sebenico, and if that was not far enough, they 
 could there freight a ship and go off to Venice. 
 
 " Hussein, overjo5'ed, promised that he would take the 
 necessary steps, so that nothing might hinder their flight. 
 
 " Poor lovers ! they little knew how all their designs were 
 to be thwarted !
 
 POBRATIM 95 
 
 " At about four miles from Knin, and not far from the 
 highway leading to Grab, rises a huge beetling rock about 
 thirty feet in height ; it seems to slant so much over the 
 road that all the passers-by shudder lest it should fall and 
 crush them. The name of this rock is the Uzdah-kamen, 
 or the Stone of the Sighs — perhaps, because the wind which 
 always blows there seems to be moaning, or, as there is a 
 kind of natural cistern, spring, or well of water, which is said 
 to be fathomless, more than one luckless wanderer, going to 
 drink of that icy-cold water, happened to slip into it, utter a 
 moan and a sigh, and then all was over with him. 
 
 " Near this fountain there is a deep cavern, which is the 
 dwelling-place of a witch, well known in Turkish and Arabian 
 mythology, as well as Chaldean lore. Her name, which is 
 hardly ever uttered, and never without a shudder of awe, 
 is Nedure ; but she is usually spoken of as The Witch. This 
 Nedure — for we may well call her by her name without 
 fear — used to take the form of a lovely young female, and 
 come and sit by the spring at the entrance of her cave. There 
 she would sit, combing her long hair, which was of the deepest 
 hue of the night. Then, displaying all the bewitching beauty 
 of sixteen summers, she would press all the handsome youths 
 who passed thereby to come and rest in her den. 
 
 " Like a wily spider, she daily caught some silly man to 
 linger and gaze upon her large, languishing black eyes with 
 long silken lashes, like natural kJwl, or to look on the dark 
 moles on her alabaster skin. If he did so, he was lost, 
 and nothing more was heard of him, but his sighs wafted by 
 the wind. 
 
 " Now, it happened one day that as Hussein was going to 
 Grab on horseback, he passed by the rock of Uzdah-kamen, 
 and, lo and behold ! Nedure was sitting by the fountain 
 waiting for him. As soon as she saw him she beckoned to 
 him to go up to her ; but he, far from obeying, spurred his 
 horse and turned away from the woman. 
 
 " ' Hussein,' said she, ' you are warm and weary ; come 
 and have a draught of this delicious water and rest a while 
 in my moss-grown cavern.' 
 
 " ' Thank you, I am neither warm nor weary ; so I require 
 neither water nor rest.' 
 
 " ' Hussein, why do you turn away your head, and will 
 not even deign to cast a glance upon me ? '
 
 96 POBRA TIM 
 
 " ' Because I have heard of your enticements and blandish- 
 ments, and do not wish to fall a prey to such charms.' 
 
 " ' I am afraid people have slandered me to you,' quoth 
 she ; ' but believe them not. I am your friend — as I am, 
 indeed, that of all lovers. I know how your heart yearns 
 for Kuna Hassan Aga's daughter, and I should like to be 
 kind to you, and help you in getting her for your bride.' 
 
 " ' Thank you, indeed,' replied the standard-bearer, who 
 knew the wiles of the witch ; ' you are very good, but I hope 
 to obtain Ayesha by the strength of my love, and not by 
 your wicked art.' 
 
 " ' Look how ungracious you are. I wish to befriend j'ou, 
 whilst you only answer me by taunts.' 
 
 '" Thank you, but your friendship would cost me too dear.' 
 
 " ' No ; my help is only paid by love. You see, I do not 
 ask much.' 
 
 " ' Still, I should have to remain your debtor. My heart 
 is full of love for Ayesha, and it can harbour none for 
 creatures such as you.' 
 
 " ' Well, then,' said she, in her sweetest voice, which was 
 as soft as the morning breeze amongst the orange-groves, 
 ' if you hate me in this way, why do you not look upon 
 me ? Do you think my charms can have any temptation 
 for you ? ' 
 
 " ' We should try to resist temptation, and then it will flee 
 from us.' 
 
 " Thereupon he spurred his horse and rode away. 
 
 " From that day, Nedure's heart, which had until then 
 burned with lust, was filled with the bitterest hatred for the 
 young man, who had not yielded to her request. 
 
 "Therefore she only thought to bring about his death, and 
 was ever plotting by which way she could harm him, for the 
 Most High would not allow her to do any harm to the faith- 
 ful, so she strove to find someone who would take up her 
 vengeance for her, and now she was about to reach her aim. 
 
 " When Hussein and Ayesha had planned together every- 
 thing for their escape, Nedure, the witch, who by her art could 
 read the future, and who, besides, could change herself into the 
 likeness of a bird, a rat, or even into that of any of the 
 smaller insects, managed somehow or other to overhear all 
 that conversation of the lovers, and then she at once sent 
 for Velagic and informed him of what was to take place.
 
 POBRA TIM 97 
 
 "'Velagic,' said she, 'you are old, and it is true you think 
 yourself a world-wise man, but do you really believe that 
 Ayesha, who is as beautiful as the rising moon, for whose 
 charms all men lose their wits, can fall in love with an old 
 man like you ? ' 
 
 " ' I do not ask her to fall in love with me. Now, by your 
 help, I shall have got together the number of heads which the 
 Aga requires as the prize for his daughter, and then she will 
 be mine.' 
 
 " ' Do not be too sure of that. Whilst you are numbering 
 your heads, Hussein, the handsome standard-bearer, has found 
 his way to Ayesha's heart.' 
 
 "Velagic winced at hearing this; but soon he shrugged his 
 shoulders, and added : 
 
 " ' What does it matter if that young coxcomb is in love with 
 her, or even she with him. In a day or two I shall claim her 
 as my bride. Once she is in my stronghold of Sternizza, woe 
 to the flies that come buzzing around my honey.' 
 
 "'Velagic, Velagic,' said the witch, 'there is many a slip 
 'twixt the cup and the lip ; to-morrow you may find the cage 
 empty and the bird flown.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean, Nedure ? ' 
 
 " ' I mean what I say.' 
 
 " ' Explain yourself, I beg you.' 
 
 " The witch thereupon told the Dizdar all that was to 
 take place, and then advised him what he had to do. 
 
 " That day passed away and night came on ; it was even 
 a very dark one, because, not only was there no moon, but 
 the sky was overspread with a thick mass of clouds, and 
 heaven seemed to be lowering on the earth. 
 
 " The hours passed slowly for three persons at Knin that 
 night. Two of them repeated their prayers devoutly, and 
 tried to fix their thoughts towards the holy Kaaba ; one 
 alone, whose heart was full of murderous designs, could 
 not pray at all. 
 
 " Velagic had been a wicked man ; he had forfeited the 
 happiness of his future life, but never as yet had he rendered 
 himself guilty of shedding the blood of a Mussulman, nay, 
 of murdering the son of one of his greatest friends. The 
 guilt he was about to commit was beyond redemption ; 
 he knew that the Compassionate would spurn him away 
 in his wrath, and that he would be doomed to eternal fire ; 
 
 7
 
 g8 POBRATIM 
 
 but what could he do now ? it was too late to retreat. He 
 was in the witch's power, nay, an instrument in her hands. 
 "He tried to pray, but every time he attempted to utter 
 Allah's sacred name, it seemed as if the three hundred 
 heads now gathered upon his tower were all blinking and 
 grinning at him. 
 
 "Midnight came; all the preparations were made, every 
 necessary precaution against surprise was taken, the horses 
 were ready for the fugitives at the opening of the cave 
 beyond the bridge. 
 
 " Hussein, at the foot of the tower, saw the beacon light 
 at Ayesha's window, and slowly and stealthily he scrambled 
 on to the rocks beneath it, awaiting, with a beating heart, for 
 the given signal. 
 
 " All at once, in the midst of the darkness, he heard the 
 adan—ih& chant of the muezzin— caWmg the faithful to the 
 prayers of the Ramazan. 
 
 " ' God is most great,' uttered Hussein faintly, and then 
 lifting his eyes as the sound of the muezzin's voice had 
 died away in the distance, he saw the lattice of Ayesha's 
 window open, and he heard the ladder of ropes slowly 
 being let down. 
 
 " He had time to say one rekah, or prayer, before the 
 
 ladder reached the ground, and then he seized the ropes 
 
 and began to go up. The ascent was a long one, for the 
 
 tower was very high. He had not gone up many steps, 
 
 when he heard a noise somewhere above his head. He 
 
 shuddered and listened. It was nothing but an owl that 
 
 had its nest in some hole in the wall ; doubtless it had 
 
 been frightened by the ladder, and now it flew away with 
 
 a loud screech, grazing Hussein with its wings as it passed. 
 
 " Hussein, though brave, felt his limbs quake with fear ; 
 
 was it not an evil omen ? Would not something happen 
 
 now that he was about to reach the goal of his happiness! 
 
 " Was it not possible that the eunuch had betrayed him? 
 
 No, that could not be; this man had always been so fond of 
 
 Ayesha. A thousand dismal thoughts crowded through his 
 
 brain ; the way up in the midst of the darkness seemed 
 
 everlasting. He looked towards the lighted window; he was 
 
 only half-way up. 
 
 "Just then he thought he heard something creak. Was 
 it the rope breaking beneath his weight ? Frightened, he
 
 POBRA TIM 99 
 
 hastened to climb up ; if there was any danger it would 
 soon be over. 
 
 " He muttered a few verses of the Koran ; he looked up 
 again ; now he could see Ayesha's face at the open window ; 
 she stretched forth her arms towards him. How beautiful 
 she was ! There, in the darkness, it seemed as if all the 
 constellations had hidden themselves before her radiant beauty. 
 
 "He. stopped one moment to take breath and to look at 
 her, when again he heard the ropes creak, and at the same 
 moment the ladder snapped under the young man's weight. 
 He lifted up his arms towards her, but alas ! she was beyond 
 his grasp. The next instant he fell with a heavy thud upon 
 the rocks, and from those into the yawning precipice over 
 which the castle was built. 
 
 " Ayesha uttered a loud cry, which was repeated several 
 times by the surrounding echoes, and then she swooned 
 away in the eunuch's arms. 
 
 " Velagic, who, apparently, had been hidden close by, saw 
 Hussein fall into the chasm, and heard Ayesha's cry ; then 
 he mounted his horse and galloped away. 
 
 " When Ayesha, with the help of the eunuch, got over her 
 faintness, she went to the window and looked down, but she 
 could only see the darkness of the chasm below. She listened ; 
 she heard nothing but the wind, the rustling of the leaves, 
 and now and then the screech of some night-bird. She 
 pulled up the ladder ; she saw that it had been cut in several 
 places, at one of which it snapped. She understood that 
 some foul treachery had been committed, but she could not 
 make out who had discovered their secret and had dealt 
 her this cruel wrong. She could not suspect the eunuch, 
 who was there by her side, her friend to the last. 
 
 " She passed a night of most terrible anguish and anxiety, 
 waiting impatiently, and still dreading the morrow. She tried 
 to hope that Hussein might not have fallen down the chasm, 
 that he might have been caught by some of the trees or 
 bushes that grew on the rocks, and thus saved from death ; 
 but it was, at best, only a faint kind of forlorn hope. 
 
 " Not a cry, not a groan escaped from her lips, as she stood 
 cold and tearless, at her window, almost stupefied by the in- 
 tensity of her grief. Thus she remained motionless and dumb 
 for hours, until the first rays of dawn lighted the tops of the 
 Veli-Berdo, the mountain over the fortress. 
 
 7—2
 
 lOo POBRATIM 
 
 "Her eyes pierced the faint glimmering of the dawn, and, 
 looking down into the chasm, at the place where the two 
 torrents meet, there she saw three lovely maidens of super- 
 human beauty, tending the remains of her lover. By their 
 garments, of the colour and splendour of emeralds, by their 
 faces shining like burnished silver, she knew that they were 
 celestial houris, and that her lover was already amongst the 
 blessed. 
 
 " When she saw this sight, she wanted to dash herself down 
 into the chasm and rejoin her happy lover, hoping that Allah 
 would be merciful and allow her to meet Hussein in the abode 
 of the blessed ; but then one of the houris beckoned to her to 
 stop, and in a twinkling she was by her side, whispering words 
 of comfort in her ear. 
 
 " Her attendants, whom she had dismissed in the early 
 evening, came back to her early in the morning, and they 
 were surprised to see she had fainted by the window. 
 
 " When she recovered from her swoon, every recollection of 
 that terrible night seemed to have passed away ; far from 
 being bereaved and forlorn, she was a happy maiden, about 
 to be united to her lover in eternal bliss. 
 
 " Later on in the day her father summoned her to his 
 presence, to tell her that the Dizdar of Stermizza had 
 brought the three hundred Christian heads demanded as 
 the price for her hand, and that she was to get ready to 
 receive him as the man who was to be her husband. 
 
 " Ayesha crossed her hands on her breast and bowed ; then 
 she uttered, in a soft, slow voice, that sounded as an echo of a 
 distant sound : 
 
 " ' My lord, it shall be as Kismet has ordained.' 
 " As Kuna Hassan knew nothing of all that had happened, 
 he thought that his daughter meant that she was ready to 
 obey the decrees of the Fates, that had chosen Velagic for her 
 husband ; so he answered : 
 
 " ' Though he would not have been the man I should have 
 chosen for thee, still, by his bravery, he has won thee for his 
 bride ; so prepare yourself to go with him this very evening. 
 But, daughter of my heart,' added he, taking her hand, ' before 
 parting with your father, have you no request to make ? ' 
 " ' Yes, father.' 
 
 " ' Well, let me hear it, my child, and if it is in my power to 
 grant it, you may be sure that your wish will be gratified.'
 
 POBRATIM loi 
 
 " ' My request, though strange indeed, is a very simple one ; 
 it is that my betrothal should take place this evening, on the 
 Poto-devi-Most, just when the sun gilds with its rays the snowy 
 peaks of the Veli-Berdo. This, and nothing more.' 
 
 The father looked at his child, astonished. 
 
 " ' It is, indeed, a strange request, and were it not for the 
 earnest way in which it is made, I should think that it was 
 merely a joke. Anyhow, it shall be as you wish ; only, may I 
 know why you do not wish to be married in the usual way ? ' 
 
 " ' I have had a vision at day-break, and the powers above 
 have decreed that it shall be so ; but I cannot speak about it 
 till this evening, at the appointed place.' 
 
 " The Aga, wishing the ceremony to be performed with the 
 utmost splendour, sent word at once to the Dizdar of Stermizza 
 to be on the Bridge of the Two Torrents at the appointed time. 
 Similar messages were likewise sent to the other Dizdar s and 
 Sirdars, and to all the gentry of Knin and of the neighbouring 
 towns. 
 
 "The sun was sinking down below the horizon when Ibrahim 
 Velagic, followed by Mujo Jelascovic, by the old Biiljic Pasha, 
 who was as yet ignorant of his son's fate, by the other Mussul- 
 man warriors, as well as by a number of svati — all came to the 
 bridge, attired in magnificent clothes of silk and satin, laced in 
 gold, with their finest weapons glittering with precious stones. 
 Then came Kuna Hassan Aga, with all his train and a number 
 of slaves, some carrying a palanquin, the others the bridal 
 gifts. 
 
 " When the two parties had met at the bridge, all wondering 
 what would take place next, Ayesha ordered the slaves to put 
 her down. 
 
 " Velagic at once dismounted from his horse, and came for- 
 ward to help her to alight, offering her his hand. 
 
 " She simply waved him off, and standing up : ' How dare 
 you come to me I Look at your hand ; it is stained with blood ; 
 and not with Christian, but with Moslem blood.' 
 
 " The eyes of the bystanders were all turned upon the Dizdar 
 of Stermizza, who got all at once of a livid hue ; still, he lifted 
 up his hand and said : 
 
 " ' Ayesha, my hands have often been stained with the blood 
 of our enemies, never with that of our brethren.' 
 
 •' ' Man,' said the young girl, 'in the name of the Living God, 
 thou liest ! '
 
 I02 POBRATIM 
 
 " There was a murmur and a stir amongst the crowd, as 
 when the shght wind which precedes the storm rustles 
 amongst the leaves of the trees. 
 
 "Then Ayesha, turning towards Sare : 'Father,' said she 
 to him, ' your hand.' 
 
 " The Biilju Pasha rushed forward and helped her to alight. 
 
 "As soon as she was on the ground she threw off her veil 
 and her feredge, and stood there in her glittering bridal dress, 
 the costly jewels of which seemed to shine less than her 
 beautiful face. 
 
 " All the men were astounded at such an act of boldness 
 from so modest a maiden ; but her dazzling beauty seemed to 
 fill them with that awe which is felt at some supernatural sight. 
 They all thought they were looking upon a houri, or some 
 heavenly vision, rather than upon a human being; so that when 
 she opened her lips again to speak, a perfect silence reigned 
 everywhere. 
 
 " ' Sare,' said she, ' where is your son ? ' 
 
 " ' My child ? ' replied the old man; ' I have not seen him the 
 whole of this long day.' 
 
 " ' Ibrahim Velagic, Dizdar of Stermizza, where is Hussein, 
 the standard-bearer ? ' 
 
 " ' How am I to know ? Am I his keeper ? ' 
 
 " ' Sare,' continued the young girl, ' when, after the fight of 
 Ostrovizza, my father had promised me as the bride of the 
 warrior who would bring him the head of the brave Christian 
 knight Jancovic Stoyan, or those of three hundred of our foes, 
 Hussein, your son, by the machinations of Ibrahim Velagic and 
 his friends, was excluded from amongst the warriors who could 
 obtain my hand by fighting for our faith and our country. 
 Sare, I loved your son ; yes, father, I say it aloud and unblush- 
 ingly, for Hussein was as good as he was handsome, and as 
 brave as he was good. I loved him with all my heart, and he 
 loved me, because the Fates had decreed that we should be 
 man and wife, if we lived. Our faith, therefore, was plighted. 
 We waited, hoping that some happy incident would happen to 
 free me from my impending fate. At last I knew that Ibrahim 
 Velagic had got together the number of heads demanded by 
 my father for my dower, and that to-day he was coming to 
 claim me as his bride. Rather than be the wife of that im- 
 postor, felon and murderer, I should have thrown myself in 
 j-onder chasm.
 
 POBRATIM 103 
 
 " ' You are astonished at such language ; but, father, how is 
 it that all the warriors aspiring to my hand cannot put together 
 a hundred heads, whilst Velagic alone has three hundred ? 
 
 " ' Well, then, know that those heads are by no means the 
 heads of our enemies; they are rather those of the unhappy 
 beings who of late have been seduced by Nedure, the witch, 
 into her den, and who after their rash act never saw dayUght 
 again. Look at those ghastly heads, and perhaps many of you 
 will find there people that you have known.' 
 
 " At these words, stirred to rage at the light of truth which 
 gleamed from Ayesha's eyes, there was such a yelling and 
 hissing, that it seemed as if all the men there had been changed 
 into snakes. They would have thrown themselves on the Dizdav 
 and torn him to pieces there and then, had Ayesha not 
 stopped them. 
 
 " ' Forbear,' said she, ' and hear me out ; wait at least for 
 the proofs I shall give you of his guilt.' 
 
 " ' Ayesha! ' cried out old Sare, overcome by anguish, ' and 
 my son — where is my son ? Is my beautiful boy's head amongst 
 the three hundred ? ' 
 
 " ' No ; brave Hussein withstood long ago the enticement of 
 the witch, and she has been since then his bitterest enemy.' 
 
 Sare heaved a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 "'Hussein was to deliver me from that heinous wretch. 
 Last night we were to flee together. I had the houris to help 
 me, but alas ! Ibrahim Velagic had the powers of darkness. It 
 was night, and he won. Hussein yesternight was under my 
 windows, as we had agreed upon. I opened my lattice and 
 lowered him a ladder of ropes, upon which he was climbing 
 joyfully; a moment more he would have reached the window- 
 sill. All at once, an owl .screeched, the ropes gave way, and 
 Hussein, my brave Hussein, was dashed down those rocks and 
 into the dreadful chasm. Sare, my poor Sare, you have no 
 son. Still, be of good cheer ; this morning, when the first rays 
 of the sun were gilding the tops of the Veli-Berdo, I saw the 
 celestial maidens tending him. His mangled body is in the 
 chasm, but his soul is in the blessed abode of peace.' 
 
 " ' Ayesha,' interrupted the Aga, ' is all this true ? ' 
 
 " The girl beckoned to a slave to approach, and then she 
 took a parcel from his hands. 
 
 " ' This,' said she, opening it, ' is what remains of the ladder ; 
 and you will find Hussein's body in the chasm, smihng in the
 
 I04 POBRATIM 
 
 happy sleep of death. The houris, who have been praying 
 over him the whole day, have covered him with garlands of 
 flowers. Go and dig his grave in the burying-ground, and dig 
 another one by his side.' 
 
 " ' But,' said Kuna Hassan, ' how did the accident happen ? ' 
 
 " ' Nedure hated Hussein, but she could not harm him, so 
 she apprised Velagic of what was to happen ; nay, she did more, 
 she transformed him into the likeness of a rat, and changing 
 herself into an owl, she deposited the Dizdar on the sill of my 
 room, there he came and gnawed at the ropes of the ladder.' 
 
 " ' This is false,' said the Dizdar. ' Whoever can believe 
 such a story ? Why, the girl is mad ! ' 
 
 " ' Guards,' said the Aga, with his hand on the haft of 
 his dagger, ' seize Velagic, and mind that you do not let 
 him escape ! ' 
 
 " ' Away ! ' replied the Dizdar. ' A man of my rank can only 
 be judged by the Sultan.' 
 
 " ' Stop ! ' cried Ayesha ; then, lifting her beautiful arm, 
 naked up to the shoulder, and whiter than the strings of 
 pearls entwined around it, and pointing towards the highway : 
 
 " ' Do you see there a cloud of dust on the road ? Do 
 you see those men coming here ? Do you know who they 
 are ? You cannot distinguish them, but I can.' 
 
 " ' Who are they, Ayesha ? ' cried all the bystanders. 
 
 " ' The foremost man amongst them, that tall and handsome 
 youth, that looks like Prince George of Cappadocia, is no 
 less a hero. It is Stoyan Jancovic, the man whose back 
 you never saw ; the others are but a few of his followers.' 
 
 " Then, turning to Velagic : ' Now, craven, utter your last 
 prayer, if you can and if you dare, then prepare to fight ; 
 your hour has come.' 
 
 " Hearing these words, the Dizdar grew ashy pale ; then 
 he began to quake with fear. Such an overpowering dread 
 filled his soul that he seemed to have been smitten with a 
 strong fit of the ague. Still, trying to hide his anxiety : 
 
 " ' Yes, we shall fight ; Allah be thanked, brothers, that 
 this infidel dog is within our reach. Yes, friends, we shall 
 see the power of the Crescent over the Cross.' 
 
 " ' No ; you shall fight alone,' said Ayesha, authoritatively ; 
 'and it is useless to contaminate the name of the All-powerful. 
 As you are already doomed to perdition, call to your aid 
 Sheytan and Nedure.'
 
 POBRATIM 105 
 
 " Ayesha had hardly uttered these words when Stoyan, 
 having made a sign to his companions to keep back, rode 
 boldly up to where the chiefs were standing, and, when a 
 few steps from Ayesha, he curbed his foaming steed, that, 
 unable to brook control, began at once to paw the ground. 
 
 " ' Maiden,' said he, bowing, ' I am here at thy behest. 
 I have this night had a strange dream. A Vila appeared 
 to me in my sleep, first in the likeness of a nightingale and 
 then in the shape of a dainty, glittering little snake. She 
 told me that for your sake I had to accomplish, this very 
 day, two mighty deeds of justice. The one was to rid this 
 neighbourhood of the evil doings of Nedure, the powerful 
 witch. This is already done.' 
 
 " Thereupon, loosening a silken scarf attached to his saddle, 
 he threw the sorceress's head at the Dizdar's feet. 
 
 " ' Now,' said he, turning to Velagic, ' you who have been 
 her accomplice — you who brag to have killed three hundred 
 Christians, who, while skulking away like a cur, dare to 
 say that you have been looking everywhere for me, to slay 
 me — here I am.' 
 
 " Appalled at the sight of the witch's hideous head, terrified 
 by the hero's words, shaking like an aspen leaf, full of dread 
 and consternation, Velagic looked up at his companions for 
 help ; but on their faces he saw nothing but angry scowls, 
 looks of scorn and hatred. 
 
 " 'Fight,' cried the Aga, ' or a worse death awaits thee, the 
 ignominious death of a murderer and a sorcerer I Fight, 
 coward, fight ! for if thou fallest not by that brave man's 
 hand, thou shalt this very day be impaled as a wizard.' 
 
 " The Dizdar, seeing that there was no escape, plucked up 
 his courage in his own defence, called the powers of darkness 
 to his help, and unexpectedly rushed upon Stoyan, hoping 
 to catch him off his guard, and to despatch him with a 
 treacherous blow of his scimitar. 
 
 " ' Fair play ! fair play ! ' shouted the chiefs. 
 
 " ' The laws of chivalry, gentlemen, are not expected to 
 be known by a vile recreant like Ibrahim Velagic,' quoth 
 Stoyan, whose keen eye forthwith saw the stroke, and whose 
 deft hand not only parried it, but dealt his adversary such 
 a mighty blow that it cut off the Dizdar's head and sent it 
 rolling on the ground by the side of Nedure's. 
 
 " ' And now, beautiful maiden, the task you have enjoined
 
 io6 POBRA TIM 
 
 me is done ; would to God thou hadst called upon me 
 before.' 
 
 " ' I thank thee, gentle knight,' said Ayesha, who all the 
 time had been standing on the parapet of the old stone 
 bridge. ' Thou hast avenged my lover's death ; may Heaven 
 reward thee for thy deed.' 
 
 "^ Allah, bisinillah ! ' cried out the chiefs. 
 
 " Thereupon Stoyan, bowing courteously, wheeled round 
 his horse and, galloping away, was soon out of sight. 
 
 " ' And now,' said Ayesha, ' I had sworn to Hussein, that 
 flower of youth and beauty, to be his for ever. Now I shall 
 keep my vow. May the Most Merciful unite me to my lover. 
 God of my fathers, God of Mohamed, receive me amongst 
 the blessed.' 
 
 " Thereupon, lifting a small dagger which she held in her 
 hand, she plunged it into her heart, and before her father 
 had time to rush up to her, she had fallen into the torrent 
 underneath, dyeing its waters of a crimson hue, just as 
 the last rays of the sinking sun seemed to tinge in blood the 
 lofty tops of the Veli-Berdo. 
 
 " From that day the Bridge of the Two Torrents has ever 
 been called the Bullin-Most, or the Bridge of the Turkish 
 Maiden, and every evening, when the day is fine, the sun 
 sheds a blood-red light on the highest peaks of the Dinara, 
 and the wind that, at gloaming, blows down the dell and 
 through the arches of the bridge, seems to waft back an 
 echo of the last moan of the Aga's beautiful daughter."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SEXAGESIMA 
 
 The . days that followed the departure of the pobratiui 
 were sad ones indeed. The Zwillievics had gone back to 
 Montenegro ; then Milena, not having any excuse to remain 
 longer a guest of the Bellacics, was obliged to go back 
 with a sinking heart to her lonely, out-of-the-way cottage ; 
 a dreary house which had never been a home to her. 
 
 When the Christmas snow had melted away, a sudden 
 strong gale of wind dried up the sods, so that the grass 
 everywhere was withered and scorched ; the very rocks 
 themselves looked lean, pinched-up, bare and sharp. All 
 nature had put on a wizened, wolfish, wintry appearance. 
 The weather was not only cold, it was bleak and gloomy. 
 
 After a fortnight of a dull, overcast sky, it began to drizzle ; 
 everything smelt of mildew ; the mouldy turf oozed with 
 moisture, the rotting trees dripped with dampness. The 
 world was decaying. If at times a ray of sunlight pierced 
 the grey clouds, its pale yellow, languid light brought with 
 it neither warmth nor comfort. Evidently the sun was 
 pining away, dying; our bereaved planet was moaning for 
 the loss of his life-giving light. 
 
 During all this time the dull sirocco never ceased to blow, 
 either in a low, unending wail, or in louder and more fitful 
 blasts. Usually, as soon as one gust had passed away, 
 a stronger one came rolling down the mountain side, in- 
 creasing in sound as it drew nearer ; then passing, it died 
 away in the distance. 
 
 These booming blasts made every mother think of her 
 sailor boy, tossed far away on the raging mountain waves ; 
 wives lighted candles to St. Nicholas, for the safety of their 
 husbands; whilst the girls thought of their lovers by day, 
 and at night they dreamt continually of flowers, babies, stag- 
 nant waters, white grapes, lice and other such omens o 
 ill-luck.
 
 io8 POBRATIM 
 
 For poor, forlorn Milena, those days were like the murky 
 morning hours that follow a night of revelry. She was 
 dull, down-hearted, dispirited ; nor had she, indeed, any- 
 thing to cheer her up. In her utter solitude, she spun from 
 the moment she got up to the moment she went to bed; 
 interrupting herself only to eat a crust of bread and some 
 olives, or else to mope listlessly. At times, however, her 
 loneliness, and the utter stillness of her house, oppressed 
 her in such a way that it almost drove her to distraction. 
 
 She mused continually over all the events of her hfe 
 during the last months, after her merry girlhood had come 
 to an end by that hateful and hasty marriage of hers ; she 
 recalled to mind that time of misery with her old miserly 
 mother-in-law, who even counted the grains of parched 
 Indian-corn she ate. Still, soon after this old dame's 
 death, came that fated St. John's Eve. It was the first 
 ray of sunlight in the gloom of her married life. It was 
 also the first time she had seen Uros. 
 
 She had not fallen in love with him that evening ; she 
 had only liked him because he was good-looking and his 
 ways were so winning. Everybody was fond of him, he was 
 so winsome. 
 
 Little by little, after that, his presence began to haunt 
 her, his face was always before her eyes. When she woke 
 in the morning, his name was on her lips. Still, that was 
 not love ; she even fancied she only liked to teaze him be- 
 cause she was a married woman, a matron, whilst he was 
 but a boy ; moreover, he was so shy. 
 
 When Radonic came home, she woke to the stern reality 
 of life ; she at last found out that she hated her husband 
 and loved Uros, who, though a boy, was, withal, older than 
 herself. That was the time when Radonic's rage being roused 
 by Vranic, he had almost killed Milenko. Then, lastly, shud- 
 dering and appalled, she remembered that night when Uros 
 came to sing his farewell song. 
 
 She stopped spinning now ; the corners of her pretty, childish 
 mouth were drawn down ; she hid her face between her hands, 
 whilst the tears trickled slowly through her fingers. 
 
 Why had she been so foolishly weak ? Now the thought 
 of that night drove her mad. Could she but blot away the 
 past months and begin life anew ! 
 
 Alas ! what was done could never be undone. She rocked
 
 POBRATIM 109 
 
 herself on her stool in a brown study. What was she to 
 do ? What was to become of her ? 
 
 Radonic would return in a few months ; then he would 
 kill her. That, at least, would put a stop to her misery. 
 But the thought of having to live for months in mortal dread 
 was worse than death itself. The maddest thoughts came 
 to her mind. She would leave Budua, dress up as a boy, 
 go off to Cattaro, embark for some distant town. And then ? 
 
 Far away the people spoke a gibberish she could not under- 
 stand, and they were heathens, who even ate meat on fast- 
 days. These thoughts, in her loneliness, were almost driving 
 her to distraction, when, unexpectedly, her husband came 
 back home. His ship, in a tempest, had been dashed against 
 a reef, off the shores of Ustica, the westernmost of the 
 yEolian Islands. Not only the vessel, but also the cargo, 
 and even two sailors, were lost. 
 
 On seeing her husband appear before her, Milena felt all 
 her blood freeze within her veins. She had disliked Radonic 
 from the very first moment she had cast her eyes upon 
 him ; since her marriage her antipathy had increased with 
 his ill-treatment, so that now she positively loathed him. 
 
 Still, when the first moment of almost insurmountable dread 
 was over, she heaved a deep sigh of relief. His return was 
 a godsend to her. Had he not just come in time to save 
 her from ignominy ? She even mastered herself so far as 
 to make Radonic believe that she was glad to see him, that 
 she was longing for his return, and for a while he believed it. 
 Still, when his mouth was pressed on hers, as he clasped 
 her fondly in his arms, the kiss he gave her now was even 
 worse than the first one she had received from him on her 
 wedding-day. It seemed as if he had seared her lips with 
 burning, cauterising steel. After a day or two, she could 
 not keep up this degrading comedy any longer ; her whole 
 being revolted against it in such a way that Radonic him- 
 self could not help noticing how obnoxious his presence 
 was to her. 
 
 She was, however, glad about one thing. Her husband, 
 having lost his large vessel and all his costly cargo, for he had 
 of late been trading on his own account, would not be able to 
 settle down in Budua, as he had intended doing ; then, being 
 now quite poor, people would not be envying her any more. 
 What good had her husband's riches done to her ? None at all.
 
 no POBRATIM 
 
 Even in that she was doomed to disappointment. The 
 widow of one of the sailors who had got drowned at Ustica 
 came to beg for a pittance. She had several little children at 
 home clamouring for bread. Milena gave her some flour and 
 some oil, and promised to speak to her husband. 
 
 " But," said she, " we, too, are very poor now." 
 
 "Poor!" replied the woman. "Why, you are richer now 
 than you ever were." 
 
 " How, if we've lost our ship with all its cargo ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it was insured." 
 
 " Insured ? What's that ? " 
 
 " You mustn't ask me, for I'm only a poor ignorant woman. 
 Only they say that when a ship is insured, you get far more 
 money for it than it was ever really worth." 
 
 "And who is to give you money for a few planks rotting 
 at the bottom of the sea, or some stray spars washed ashore ? " 
 asked Milena, incredulously. 
 
 " Who ? Ahl that's more than I can tell. Anyhow, I know 
 it's true, for all that." 
 
 Milena, astonished, stared at the poor woman. She asked 
 herself whether grief had not muddled the widow's brain. No, 
 she did not look insane. 
 
 " Who told you such foolish things, my poor Stosija ? " said 
 she, enquiringly, after a while ; " for you know very well that 
 you are speaking nonsense." 
 
 " It is no nonsense, for the pop himself told me." 
 
 Milena's bewilderment increased. 
 
 " Moreover, the priest added that insurances are one of the 
 many sacrilegious inventions which lead men to perdition." 
 Then, lowering her voice to a whisper : " They have a pact 
 with Satan." 
 
 Milena drew back appalled. 
 
 " When a ship is insured the owners care very little what 
 becomes of the precious lives they have on board. The 
 captains themselves get hardened. They do not light any 
 more tapers to St. Nicholas to send them prosperous gales ; 
 the priests offer no more prayers for their safety ; and, as for 
 silver ex-votos, why, no one thinks of them any more. The pop 
 is so angry that he says, if he had his own way, he'd excom- 
 municate every captain, even every sailor, embarking on an 
 insured ship." 
 
 " Mercy on us! " quoth Milena, crossing herself repeatedly.
 
 POBRATIM III 
 
 " In fact, since all these new-fangled, heathenish inventions, 
 you hear of nothing but fires on land and shipwrecks at sea. 
 People once went to bed as soon as it was dark ; at eight 
 o'clock every fire and every light was put out. Now, people 
 will soon be turning night into day, as they do in Francezka 
 and Vnetci (Venice), flying thus in the very face of God Him- 
 self. Now all the rotten ships are sent to sea, where they 
 founder at the very first storm. It isn't true, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Aye, it must be true," sighed Milena, " if the pop says so." 
 
 " Once fires and shipwrecks were sent as punishments to the 
 wicked, or as trials to the good ; now, with the insurances, God 
 Himself has been deprived of His scourge. The wicked prosper, 
 the rich grow richer, and as for the poor — even the Virgin 
 Mary and all the saints turn a deaf ear to them." 
 
 Milena shook her head despondingly. 
 
 "For instance," continued Stosija, "would the miser's 
 heart ever have been touched, had his barns been insured." 
 
 " What miser ? " asked Milena. 
 
 " Is it possible that you don't know the story of ' Old Nor 
 and the Miser' ?" 
 
 " Oh 1 it's a story," added Milena, disappointed. 
 
 " Yes, it's a story, but it's true for all that, for it happened 
 at Grohovo, and my grandfather, who was alive at that time, 
 knew both the miser and the idiot. Well, the miser — who 
 had as much money as his trees had leaves, and that is 
 more than he could count — was one day brewing rakee, 
 when an old man, who lived on the public charity, or in 
 doing odd jobs that could be entrusted to him, stopped at 
 his door. 
 
 "'I smell yakee,' said Old Nor" (ninny), " who, by-the-bye, 
 was not quite such an idiot as he was believed to be. 
 
 " ' Oh, you do ! ' quoth the miser, sneeringly. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Nor, his eyes twinkling and his mouth 
 watering. 
 
 " ' And I suppose you'd like to taste some ? ' 
 
 " ' That I should ; will you give me a sip ? ' 
 
 " ' Why not ? ' 
 
 " Thereupon the miser dipped a small ladle in a kettle 
 of boiling water and offered it to Old Nor. 
 
 " The idiot drank down the hot water without wincing. 
 
 " ' It's good, isn't it ? ' asked the rich man. 
 
 "'Delicious!' and the old man smacked his lips.
 
 112 FOB R ATI M 
 
 " ' It warms the pit of your stomach nicely ? ' 
 
 " ' It even burns it.' 
 
 " ' It's rare stuff, I can tell you; will you have some more? 
 
 "'It's of your own brewing, one can see; I'll have some 
 more.' 
 
 " The miser once more dipped the ladle in the hot water 
 and offered it again to the beggar, who quaffed the contents 
 unflinchingly. 
 
 " ' You see, bad tongues say I'm a miser, but it's all 
 slander ; for when I like a fellow, I'd give him the shirt off 
 my back, and I like you. Old Nor. Will you have another 
 ladleful ? ' 
 
 " ' Willingly,' and the ninny's eyes flashed. 
 
 "Thereupon he again swallowed up the scalding water, 
 but not a muscle of his face twitched. 
 
 " ' Are you not afraid it'll go to your head, old man ? ' 
 asked the miser, mischievously. 
 
 " ' Old Nor's head isn't muddled with so little,' added he, 
 scowling. 
 
 " ' Then try another cup ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' replied the ninny, shaking his head, ' for to-day 
 I've had enough. As soon as the Cesar' (emperor) 'sends me 
 the money he owes me, and I marry the Virgin Mary — for 
 that was his craze — I'll give you something that'll warm 
 the pit of your stomach, too.' 
 
 " Then he turned round and went off without any thanks 
 or wishing the blessing of God on the miser's dwelling, as 
 he was wont to do. 
 
 " The miser's house was all surrounded by sheds, store- 
 houses and stables ; barns groaning under the weight of 
 corn, hay and straw ; his sacks were heaped with flour and 
 wheat ; his cellars overflowed with wine and oil ; in his 
 dairies you could have bathed in milk, for he neither lacked 
 cows, nor sheep, nor goats. Well, not long after the beggar 
 had been scalded with hot water, a fire broke out in his 
 granaries at night, and all the wealth that was stored therein 
 was wasted by fire. 
 
 " The miser grieved and lamented, but he soon had masons 
 and bricklayers come from all around, and in a short time 
 they built him finer stables, sheds and stores than the old 
 ones ; and after the harvest was gathered, and the after- 
 math was garnered, and all the outer buildings were filled.
 
 POBRATIM 113 
 
 with the grace of God, a terrible fire broke out one morning, 
 and before the men could bring any help, for the flames 
 rose fiercely on every side like living springs that have 
 burst their flood-gates, so that the water poured down upon 
 it only scattered the fire far around, and the fine new build- 
 ings came crumbling down with a crash, just like houses 
 built upon sand. Then the miser had new masons and 
 bricklayers, and also architects and engineers. Soon they 
 built him stately store-houses of stone and beautiful barns 
 of bricks, higher, vaster and stronger than the former ones. 
 These granaries were like palaces, and a wonder in the 
 land. When the fruits of the field were gathered and the 
 heart of the miser was rejoiced at the sight of so much 
 wealth, then, in the middle of the day, as he was seated at 
 table eating cakes overflowing with honey, and quaffing down 
 bumpers of wine, then the fire broke out in his barns, and, 
 behold, his buildings looked like a dreadful dragon spouting 
 and spurting sparks of fire, and vomiting out volumes of 
 smoke and flames. It was, indeed, a terrible sight. 
 
 " The rich man saw at last that the hand of God was 
 weighing upon him, and he felt himself chastened. He 
 cast about for some time, not knowing what to do. So he 
 took a fat calf and two lambs and a kid, and killed them ; 
 and he cooked them ; and he baked bread ; and he invited 
 all his acquaintances, rich and poor, to a feast, where he 
 spared neither wine nor slivovitz ; and he did not scald their 
 throats with hot water, but with his own strong rakee. Then, 
 when they had all eaten and were merry, he said to them : 
 
 "'The Lord, in His mercy, has scourged me — for whom 
 the Lord loveth He chasteneth — He has given me a warning 
 and a foretaste of what might be awaiting me hereafter. 
 Therefore, I am humbled, and I submit ; but if God has 
 chosen any one among you to chastise me, kindly tell me, 
 and I swear, on my soul, on the Cross of our Saviour, Who 
 died for our sins, not only never to harm him, but to for- 
 give him freely.' 
 
 " Thereupon Old Nor rose and said : 
 
 " ' Gospod, it is I who have burnt down your barns. 
 One day I passed by your door and begged you for a 
 draught of the liquor you were brewing ; then you offered 
 me scalding water, and when I gulped it down you laughed 
 at me because you thought me witless. Three times did I 
 
 8
 
 114 POBRATIM 
 
 drink down the fiery water you offered me; three times did I 
 consume with fire all the barns that surround your house. 
 Still, I only made you see, but not taste, fire, for I might 
 have burned you down in your house, like a rat in his hole, 
 and then the pit of your stomach would have been warm in- 
 deed ; but I did not do so, because I am Old Nor, and the little 
 children jibe and the big children jeer at me, and all laugh 
 and make mouths at me.' 
 
 " The rich man bowed down his head, rebuked. Then 
 he stretched out his arms and clasped the beggar to his 
 breast, saying : 
 
 " ' Brother, you are, after all, a better and a wiser man 
 than I am, for if I was wicked to you, it was only out of 
 sheer wantonness.' 
 
 " Then he plied him, not with warm water, but with sparkling 
 wine and strong slivovitz, and sent him home jolly drunk. 
 From that time he mended his ways, gave pence to the 
 poor, presents to the pop, candles and incense to the Church. 
 Therefore, he was beloved by all who knew him, his barns 
 groaned again with the gifts of God, his flocks and his herds 
 increased by His blessings. 
 
 " Now, tell me. If the insurance company had paid him 
 for the damage every time his barns had been burnt, would 
 he have been happy with his ill-gotten wealth ? No ; his 
 heart might have been hardened, and Satan at last have 
 got possession of his soul." 
 
 That evening Milena referred to her husband all that Stosija 
 had said to her. Radonic scowled at his wife, and then he 
 grunted : 
 
 " The pop — like all priests, in fact — is a drivelling old idiot ; 
 so he had better mind his own business, that is, mumble 
 his meaningless prayers, and not meddle with what he 
 doesn't understand." 
 
 " What ! is there anything a pop doesn't understand ? " asked 
 Milena, astonished. 
 
 Radonic laughed. 
 
 " Oh ! he'll soon see something that'll make his jaw fall 
 and his eyes start from their sockets." 
 
 " And what's that ? " 
 
 " A thing which you yourself won't believe in — a ship without 
 masts." 
 
 ♦' And what are its sails tied to ? "
 
 POBRATIM 115 
 
 "It needs no sails ; it has only a big chimney, a black 
 funnel, that sends forth clouds of smoke, flames and sparks ; 
 then, two tremendous wheels that go about splashing and 
 churning the water into a mass of beautiful spray, with a 
 thundering noise ; then, every now and then, it utters a shrill 
 cry that is heard miles away." 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " gasped Milena ; " but it must be like Svet 
 Gjorgje's dragon ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " sneered Radonic, " St. George's dragon was but a 
 toy to it." 
 
 " And where have you seen this monster ? " 
 
 " It isn't a monster at all ; it's a steamer. I saw one on my 
 last voyage. It came from the other side of the world, from 
 that country where the sun at midday looks just like a 
 burnished copper plate." 
 
 "Of course," added Milena, nodding, "if it's on the other 
 side of the earth, they can only see the sun after it's set. But 
 where is that place of darkness ? Is it Kitay ? " 
 
 "Oh, no! it's Englezka." 
 
 " But to return to what the pop said. Then it's true that 
 you'll get more money for your ship even than what it was 
 worth ? " 
 
 " Whether I get more or whether I get less, I'm not going to 
 keep all the beggars of the town with the money the insurance 
 company will give me. If sailors don't want their wives to go 
 begging and their brats to starve, they can insure their lives, 
 or not get married. As for Stosija, you can tell her to go to the 
 pop, and not come bothering here ; though I doubt whether a 
 priest will even say a prayer for you without the sight of your 
 money. Anyhow, to-morrow I start for Cattaro, where I hope 
 to settle the insurance business." 
 
 On the morrow Radonic went off, and Milena heaved a deep 
 sigh of relief; for, although the utter loneliness in which she 
 lived was at times unbearable to her, still it was better than 
 her husband's unkindness. 
 
 Alas ! no sooner had Radonic started than Vranic came with 
 his odious solicitations, for nothing would discourage that man. 
 In her innocence she could rely on her strength, so she had 
 spurned him from her. She had till then never been afraid of 
 any man. Was she not a Montenegrin ? She had, in many 
 a skirmish, not only loaded her father's guns, but also fired at 
 the Turks herself; nor had she ever missed her man. Still, 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 POBRATIM 
 
 since that fateful night all her courage was gone. Was Vranic 
 not a seer, a man who could peer into his fellow creatures as if 
 they were crystal ? Did he not know that she had sinned ? 
 He had told her that all her struggles were unavailing ; she 
 was like the swallow when the snake fascinates it. She, there- 
 fore, had been cowed down to such a degree that she almost 
 felt herself falling into his clutches. 
 
 Not knowing what to do, she had gone to Mara, and had 
 confessed part of her troubles to her ; she had asked her for 
 help against Vranic. Although Uros' mother did not dabble 
 in witchcraft, still she was a woman with great experience. So 
 she thought for a while, and then she gave Milena a tiny bit of 
 red stuff, and told her to wear it under her left arm -pit ; it was 
 the most powerful spell she knew of, and people could not 
 harm her as long as she wore it. She followed Mara's advice ; 
 but Vranic was a seer, and such simples were powerless 
 against him. 
 
 Radonic came back from Cattaro, and, by his humour, things 
 must have gone on well for him ; still, strange to say, he 
 brought no money back with him. He only said he had put 
 his money in a bank, so that he might get interest for it, till 
 such times when he should buy another ship. 
 
 " And what is a bank ? " asked Milena, astonished. 
 
 Radonic shrugged his shoulders, and answered peevishly, 
 that she was too stupid to understand such things. " Montene- 
 grins," he added, " have no banks, nor any money to put in 
 banks ; they only know how to fight against the Turks." 
 
 For a few days Milena asked all her acquaintances what a 
 bank was, and at last she was informed that it was like in- 
 surances, one of those modern inventions made to enrich the 
 rich. Putting money in a bank was like sinking a deep well. 
 After that you were not only supplied for your lifetime, but 
 your children and the children of your children were then 
 provided for ; for who can drink the water of a well and dry 
 it up ? 
 
 For Milena, all these things were wonders which she could 
 not understand. She only sighed, and thought that Stosija 
 was right when she had said to her that this world was for 
 the wealthy ; the poor were nowhere, not even in church. 
 
 Although Radonic had come back, still Vranic, far from 
 desisting from his suit, became always more pressing ; for he 
 seemed quite sure that she would never speak to her husband
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 117 
 
 against him. Once more she went to Mara and asked her for 
 advice. 
 
 " Why not mention the subject to your husband ? " asked her 
 friend. 
 
 " First, I dare not ; then, it would be quite useless. He would 
 not believe me; Vranic has him entirely under his power. In 
 fact, I am quite sure if Radonic is unbearable, it is the seer 
 who sets him on to bait me." 
 
 " But to what purpose ? " 
 
 " Because he thinks that, sooner or later, I'll be driven to 
 despair, and find myself at his mercy. Though I'm no seer 
 myself, still I see through him." 
 
 Withal Uros' mother was a woman of great experience, 
 still, she could not help her friend ; she only comforted her 
 in a motherly way, and her heart yearned for her. 
 
 As Milena, weary and dejected, was slowly trudging home- 
 wards, she saw, not far from her house, a small animal 
 leisurely crossing a field. Was it a cat ? She stood stock- 
 still for a moment and stared. Surely, it was neither a hare, 
 nor a rabbit, nor a dog. It was a big, dark-coloured cat ! 
 How her heart began to beat at that sight ! 
 
 At that moment she forgot that it was almost dusk, that 
 the days were still short, that the light was vanishing fast. 
 She forgot that it would be very disagreeable meeting Vranic 
 — always lurking thereabout — that her husband would soon 
 be coming home. In fact, forgetting everything and every- 
 body, she began running after the cat, which scampered off 
 the moment it saw her. Still, the quicker the cat ran, the 
 quicker Milena went after it. 
 
 Of course, she knew quite well, as you and I would have 
 known, that the cat was no cat at all, for real pussies are 
 quiet, home-loving pets, taking, at most, a stroll on the 
 pantiles, but never go roaming about the fields as dogs are 
 sometimes apt to do. 
 
 That cat, of course, was a witch — not a simple baornitza, 
 but a real sorceress, able to do whatever she chose to put 
 her hand to. 
 
 The nimble cat ran with the speed of a stone hurled from 
 a sling, and Milena, panting, breathless, stumbling every now 
 and then, ran after it with all her might. Several times the 
 fleet-footed animal disappeared ; still, she was not dis- 
 heartened, but ran on and came in sight of it after some
 
 ii8 POBRATIM 
 
 time. At last, she saw the cat run straight towards a distant 
 cottage. Milena slackened her speed, then she stopped to 
 look round. 
 
 The cottage was built on a low muddy beach. She re- 
 membered having been in that lonely spot once before with 
 Uros ; she had seen the strand all covered with bloated bluish 
 medusas, melting away in the sun. 
 
 With a beating heart and quivering limbs Milena stopped 
 on the threshold of the hut, and looked about her for the 
 cat. The door was ajar ; perhaps it had gone in. For a 
 moment she hesitated whether she should turn on her heels 
 and run off or enter. 
 
 A powerful witch like that could, all at once, assume the 
 most horrible shape, and frighten her out of her wits ! 
 
 As she stood there, undecided as to what she was to do, 
 the door opened, as if by a sudden blast of wind, and 
 there was no time to retreat. Milena then, to her surprise, 
 saw an old woman standing in the middle of the hut. She 
 was quietly breaking sticks and putting them on a smouldering 
 fire. As for the cat, it was, of course, nowhere to be seen. 
 
 The old woman, almost bent double by age, turned, and 
 seeing Milena, smiled. Her face did not express the slightest 
 fear or ill-humour, nay, she seemed as if she had been ex- 
 pecting her. 
 
 " Good evening, domlada,'" said the old woman, with a most 
 winning voice, " have you lost your way, or is there anything 
 you want of me ? " 
 
 Milena hesitated; had she been spoken to in a rough, dis- 
 agreeable manner, she would, doubtless, have been daunted 
 by the thought that she was putting her soul in jeopardy by 
 having recourse to the witch ; but the woman's voice was 
 so soft and soothing, her words so encouraging, her ways 
 so motherly, that, getting over her nervousness, she went 
 in at once, and, almost without knowing it, she found herself 
 induced to relate all her troubles to this utter stranger. 
 
 " First, if you want me to help you," said the old woman, 
 " you must try and help yourself." 
 
 " And how so ? " 
 
 " By thinking as little as possible of a handsome youth 
 who is now at sea." 
 
 Milena blushed. 
 
 " Then you must bear your husband's ill-humour, even
 
 POBRATIM 119 
 
 his blows, patiently, and, little by little, get him to under- 
 stand what kind of a man Vranic is. Radonic is in love 
 with you ; therefore, ' the sack cannot remain without the 
 twine.' You must not fear Vranic ; ' the place of the uninvited 
 guest is, you know, behind the door.' Moreover, to protect 
 you against him, I'll give you a most powerful charm." 
 
 Saying this, she went to a large wooden chest and got out 
 of it a little bag, which she handed to Milena. 
 
 "In it," whispered the old woman, mysteriously, "there 
 is some hair of a wolf that has tasted human flesh, the claw 
 of a rabid old cat, a tiny bit of a murdered man's skull, a few 
 leaflets of rue gathered on St. John's Night under a gibbet, 
 and some other things. It is a potent spell ; still, efficient as 
 it is, you must help it in its work." 
 
 Milena promised the old woman to be guided entirely by 
 her advice. 
 
 " Remember never to give way to Vranic in the least, for, 
 even with my charm, if you listen to him you might become 
 his prey. You must not do like the dove did." 
 
 " And what did the dove do ? " 
 
 " What ! don't you know ? Well, sit down there, and I'll 
 tell you." 
 
 " But I'm afraid I'll be troubling you." 
 
 "Not at all; besides, I'll prepare my soup while I chat." 
 
 " Still, I'm afraid my husband might get home and not 
 find me ; then " 
 
 " Then you'll keep him a little longer at the inn." 
 
 Saying these words, the witch threw some vegetables in 
 the pot simmering on the hob, and on the fire something like 
 a pinch of salt, for at once the wood began to splutter and 
 crackle ; after that, she went to the door and looked out. 
 
 " See how it pours ! " said she. " Radonic will have to 
 wait till the rain is over." 
 
 Milena shuddered and crossed herself; she was more than 
 ever convinced that the old woman was a mighty sorceress 
 who had command over the wind and the rain. 
 
 "Well," began the stari-mati, "once a beautiful white dove 
 had built her nest in a large tree; she laid several eggs, 
 hatched them, and had as many lovely dovelets. One day, 
 a sly old fox, passing underneath, began leering at the dove 
 from the corner of his eye, as old men ogle pretty girls at 
 windows. The dove got uneasy. Thereupon, the fox ordered
 
 I20 POBRATIM 
 
 the bird to throw down one of her young ones. ' If you don't, 
 I swear by my whiskers to climb up the tree and gobble you 
 down, you , and all your young ones.' 
 
 " The poor dove was in sore trouble, and, quaking with 
 fear, seeing the fox lay its front paws on the trunk of the 
 tree, she, flurried as she was, caught one of her little ones 
 by its neck and threw it down. The fox made but a mouthful 
 of it, grumbling withal that it was such a meagre morsel. 
 
 " ' Mind and fatten those that are left, for I'll call again 
 to-morrow, and if the others are only skin and bones, as the 
 little scarecrow you've thrown me down is, you'll have, at 
 least, to give me two.' 
 
 " The fox went off. The poor dove remained in her nest, 
 mourning over her lost little one, and shuddering as she 
 thought of the morrow. Just then another bird happened 
 to perch above the branch where the dove had her nest. 
 
 " ' I say, dove,' said the other bird, ' what's up, that you 
 are cooing in such a dreary, disconsolate way ? ' 
 
 " The dove thereupon related all that had happened. 
 
 " ' Oh, you simpleton ! oh, you fool ! ' quoth the other bird, 
 ' how could you have been so silly as to believe the sly old 
 fox ? You ought to have known that foxes cannot climb 
 trees ; therefore, when he comes to-morrow, ordering you 
 to throw him down a couple of your little ones, just you tell 
 him to come up himself and get them.' 
 
 " The day after, when the fox came for his meal, the dove 
 simply answered : 
 
 " ' Don't you wish you may get it ! ' 
 
 " And the dove laughed in her sleeve to see the fox look so 
 sheepish. 
 
 " ' Who told you that ? ' said Reynard ; ' you never thought 
 of it yourself, you are too stupid.' 
 
 " ' No,' quoth the dove, ' I did not. The bird that has built 
 her nest by the sedges near the river told it me.' 
 
 " ' So,' said the fox ; and he turned round and went off 
 to the bird that had built her nest by the river sedges, without 
 even saying ta-ta to the dove. He soon found her out. 
 
 " ' I say, bird, what made )'ou build your nest in such a breezy 
 spot ? ' said the fox, with a twinkling eye. 
 
 " ' Oh I I don't mind the wind,' said the bird. ' For instance, 
 when it blows from the north-east, I put my head under my lelt 
 wing, like this.'
 
 POBRATIM 121 
 
 " Thereupon, the bird put its head under its left wing, and 
 peeped at the fox with its right eye. 
 
 " ' And when it blows from the south-west ? ' asked the fox. 
 
 " ' Then I do the contrary.' 
 
 " And the bird put its head under its right wing, and peeped 
 at the fox with its left eye. 
 
 " ' And when it blows from every side of the compass at once ? ' 
 
 " ' It never does,' said the bird, laughing. 
 
 " ' Yes it does ; in a hurricane.' 
 
 " ' Then I cover my head with both my wings, like this.' 
 
 " No sooner had the poor bird buried her head under both 
 her wings, than the sly old fox jumped at her, and ate her up. 
 
 " But," said the witch, finishing her story, " if you are like the 
 dove, I'm not like the bird of the sedges ; and Vranic would find 
 me rather tough to eat me up. And now, hurry home, my dear ; 
 if ever you want me again, you know where to find me." 
 
 The rain had ceased, and Milena, thanking the old woman 
 for her kindness, went off. She had been back but a few 
 minutes when Radonic returned home, ever so much the 
 worse for drink. Not finding any supper ready, he at first 
 began to grumble ; then, little by little, thinking himself very 
 ill-used, he got into a tremendous rage. Having reached 
 this paroxysm of wrath, he set to smash all the crockery 
 that he could lay his hands on, whilst Milena, terrified, 
 went and shut herself up in the next room, and peeped 
 at him through the keyhole. 
 
 When he had broken a sufficient number of plates and 
 dishes, he felt vexed at having vented his rage in such a 
 foolish way, then to pity himself at having such a worthless 
 wife, who left him without supper, and growing sentimental, 
 he began to groan and hiccough and curse, till he at last 
 rolled off the stool on which he had been rocking himself, 
 and went to sleep on the floor. 
 
 On the morrow the husband was moody, the wife sad ; 
 neither of them spoke or looked at the other. The whole 
 of that day, Milena — in her loneliness — revolved within her 
 mind what she would do to get rid of Vranic's importunities, 
 and, above all, how she could prevent him from harming 
 Uros, as he had threatened to do. 
 
 The day passed away slowly; in the evening Radonic 
 came home more drunk than he had ever been, therefore 
 maliciously angry and spiteful.
 
 122 POBRA TIM 
 
 The front room of the house, like that of ahiiost all other 
 cottages, was a large but dark and dismal -looking chamber, 
 pierced with several small windows, all thickly grated ; the 
 ceiling was raftered, and pieces of smoked mutton, wreaths 
 of onions, bundles of herbs, and other provisions dangled 
 down from hooks, or nails, driven in nearly ever)' beam. 
 As in all country-houses, the hearth was built in the verj- 
 midst of this room, and the smoke, curling upwards, found 
 an outlet from a hole in the roof. That evening, as it was 
 pouring and blowing, the gusts of wind and rain prevented 
 the smoke from finding its way out. 
 
 Milena was seated on a three-legged stool at a corner of 
 the hearth, by a quaint, somewhat prehistoric, kind of 
 earthenware one -wick oil -lamp, which gave rather less 
 light than our night - lamps usually do, though it flickered 
 and sputtered and smoked far more. She was sewing a 
 very tiny bit of a rag, but she took much pride in it, for 
 every now and then she looked at it with the fond eyes of 
 a girl sewing her doll's first bodice. Hearing her husband's 
 step on the shingle just outside, she started to her feet, 
 thrust the rag away, looking as if she had almost been 
 caught doing something very guilty. After that she began 
 mixing the soup boiling in the pot with great alacrity. 
 
 Radonic was not a handsome man at the best of times, 
 but now, besotted bj' drink, shuffling and reeling, he was 
 positively loathsome. He stopped for a moment on the sill 
 to look at his wife, grinning at her in a half-savage, half- 
 idiotic way. 
 
 Milena shuddered when she saw him, and turned her 
 eyes awaj-. He evidently noticed the look of horror she 
 cast on him, for holding himself to the door-post with one 
 hand, he shook the other at her, in his increasing anger. 
 
 "What have you been doing all the day? — gadding about, 
 or sitting on the door -step to beckon to the youths who 
 pass by ? " he said, in a thick, throaty voice, interrupted 
 every now and then with a drunken hiccough. Then he 
 let go the door-post and shuffled in. 
 
 " A fine creature, a very fine creature, a slut, a good-for- 
 nothing slut, not worth the salt she eats ! You hear, madam ? 
 3'ou hear darling? it's to you I'm speaking." 
 
 Milena stood pale, awe-stricken, twisting the fringe of her 
 apron round her fingers, looking at him with amazement. It
 
 POBRATIM 123 
 
 was certainly not the first time in her life that she had seen a 
 drunken man ; still, she had never known anyone so fiendish 
 when tipsy. 
 
 " A nice kind of woman for a fellow to marry," he went on, 
 " a thing that stands twisting her fingers from morning to night, 
 but who cannot find time to prepare a little supper for a hungry 
 man, in the evening." Then, with a grunt : " What have you 
 been doing the whole of the live-long day ? " 
 
 Milena did not answer. 
 
 " I say, will you speak ? by the Virgin, will you speak ? or 
 I'll slap that stupid sallow face of yours till I make it red with 
 }-our blood." 
 
 Milena did try to answer, but the words stuck in her throat 
 and would not come out. Radonic thought she was defying him. 
 
 " Ah, you'll not answer ! You were fooling about the town, 
 or sitting at the window eating pumpkin seeds, waiting for the 
 dogs that pass to admire those meaningless eyes of 3'ours. 
 They are dark, it's true, but I'll make them ten times darker." 
 
 Thereupon he made a rush at her, but, swift-footed as she 
 was, she ran on the opposite side of the room. She glanced at 
 the door, but he had shut and bolted it, therefore — being afraid 
 that he might be upon her before she managed to open it — she 
 only kept running round the hearth, waiting till chance afforded 
 her some better way of escape. 
 
 He ran after her for some time, but, drunk and asthmatic as 
 he was, he stopped at last, irritated by his non-success. Vexed 
 at seeing a faint smile on her lips, he took up a plate, that had 
 been spared from the day before, and shied it at her. She was 
 too quick for him, for she deftly moved aside, and the plate was 
 smashed against an oaken press. 
 
 He gnashed his teeth with rage and showed her his fists ; 
 then he bent down, picked up a log, and flourished it wildly 
 about. She at once made for the door. He flung the piece of 
 wood at her with all his might. She once more stooped to 
 avoid it, but, in her eagerness to get out, she was this time 
 rather flurried ; moreover, the missile hurled at her was, this 
 time, much bigger than the former one, so that the log just 
 caught her at the back of her head. She uttered a shrill cry, 
 and fell on the ground in a death-like swoon. 
 
 Radonic, seeing Milena fall, thought he had killed her. He 
 felt at that moment such a terrible fright that it seemed to him 
 as if a thunderbolt had come down upon him.
 
 124 POBRATIM 
 
 He grew deathly pale, his jaw fell, he began to tremble 
 from head to foot, just as when he had a fit of the ague. 
 His teeth chattered, his knees were broken, his joints re- 
 laxed. He had never in his whole life felt such a fright. 
 In a moment his drunkenness seemed to vanish, and he 
 was again in his senses. 
 
 " Milena," said he, in a faint, quivering, moaning tone. 
 " Milena, my love ! " 
 
 She did not answer, she did not move ; to all appearance 
 she was dead. 
 
 The muscles of his throat were twitching in such a way that 
 he almost fancied someone had stabbed him through the neck. 
 
 Was she now worth her salt to him ? he asked himself 
 bitterly; aye, he would give all his money to bring her back 
 to life if he only could. 
 
 He wanted to go up to her, but his feet seemed rooted 
 to the spot where he stood ; with widely opened eyes he 
 stared at the figure lying motionless on the floor. Was the 
 blood trickling from her head ? A moment afterwards he was 
 kneeling down by her side, lifting her up tenderly ; for, brute 
 as he was, he loved her. 
 
 She was not dead, for her heart was beating still. Her head 
 was bleeding ; but the cut was very slight, hardly skin deep. 
 He began to bathe her face with water, and tried to recall her 
 to her senses. Still her fainting-fit, owing, perhaps, to the 
 state of her health, lasted for some time; and those moments 
 of torture seemed for him everlasting. 
 
 At last Milena opened her eyes ; and seeing her husband's 
 face bent close upon hers, she shuddered, and tried to free 
 herself from his arms. 
 
 " Ljuba,'" said Radonic, " forgive me. I was a brute ; but I 
 didn't mean to harm you." 
 
 " It's a pity you didn't kill me ; then there would have been 
 an end to this wretched life of mine." 
 
 " Do you hate me so very much ? " 
 
 " Have I any reason to love you ? " 
 
 "Forgive me, my love. I've been drinking to-night; and 
 when the wine gets to my head, then I know I'm nasty." 
 
 " No, you hate me, and I know why." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Vranic sets you against me; and when your anger is roused, 
 and your brain muddled, you come and want to kill me."
 
 POBRATIM 125 
 
 Radonic did not reply. 
 
 " But rather than torture me as you do, kill me at once, to 
 please your friend." 
 
 Milena stopped for an instant ; then she began again, in a 
 lower tone : 
 
 " And that man is doubtless there, behind that door, listening 
 to all that has happened." 
 
 Radonic ground his teeth, clenched his fists, snorted like a 
 high-mettled horse, started up, and would have rushed to the 
 door had Milena not prevented him. 
 
 " No," said she, " do not be so rash. Abide your time ; 
 catch him on the hip." 
 
 " Why does he hate you ? " 
 
 " Can't you guess ? Did he not want to marry me ? " 
 
 Radonic groaned. 
 
 " Oh ! it would not be a difficult matter to turn Vranic into 
 a friend ; but I prefer being beaten by you than touched by 
 that fiend." 
 
 Radonic started like a mad bull ; and, not knowing what to 
 do, he gave the table such a mighty thump that he nearly 
 shivered it. 
 
 " Listen ! Yesterday, when you had rolled on the floor, and 
 were sleeping away your drunken rage " 
 
 " Then ? " 
 
 " I went to sit on the doorstep " 
 
 " Well, go on." 
 
 " A moment afterwards Vranic was standing in front of me." 
 
 The husband's eyes flashed with rage. 
 
 " Knowing that you would not wake, he begged me to let 
 him come in. He saw me wretched and forlorn ; he would 
 comfort me." 
 
 " You lie ! " He hissed these words out through his set 
 teeth, and caught hold of her neck to throttle her. Then, 
 all at once, he turned his mad rage against himself, and 
 thumped his head with all his strength, exclaiming : 
 
 " Fool, fool, fool that I am ! " Then, after a short silence, 
 and with a sullen look : " And you, what did you do ? " 
 
 " I got up, came in, and slammed the door in his face." 
 
 Radonic caught his wife in his arms, and kissed her. 
 
 " Tell me one thing more. Where were you yesterday 
 evening ? " 
 
 She smiled.
 
 126 POBRATIM 
 
 " Where do you think I was ? Well, I'll tell you, because 
 you'll never guess. I was at the witch's, who lives down there 
 by the sea shore." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " Because I'm tired of this life. I went to ask her for a 
 charm against your bosom friend." 
 
 " And what can a foolish old woman do for you ? " said the 
 husband, trying to put on a sceptical look. 
 
 " I have not been all over the world as you have ; still, I 
 know that our blood also is red." 
 
 " And what did the baornitza tell you ? " 
 
 "That a flowing beard is but a vain ornament when the 
 head is light." 
 
 Radonic shrugged his shoulders and tried not to wince. 
 
 " Besides, she gave me this charm ; " and showing him her 
 amulet, she begged him to wear it for a few days. " It will 
 not do you any harm; wear it for my sake, even if you don't 
 believe in it," she pleaded softly. 
 
 Radonic yielded, and allowed Milena to fasten the*little bag 
 round his neck, looking deep into her beautiful eyes uplifted 
 towards his. She blushed, feeling the fire of his glances. 
 
 " And now," added she, with a sigh of reUef, " he'll break his 
 viper's fangs against that bone, if our proverbs are true." 
 
 Radonic tried to keep up his character of an esprit-fort, and 
 said : " Humbug ! " but there was a catch in his voice as he 
 uttered this word. 
 
 " Now, I feel sure that as long as you have this talisman 
 you'll not open your mouth or reveal a single word of what I've 
 told you." 
 
 " Whom do you take me for ? " 
 
 " Yes, but at times our very eyes deceive us ; moreover, 
 Vranic is a man to whom everybody is like glass. He reads 
 your innermost thoughts." 
 
 " He is sharp ; nothing more, I tell you." 
 
 " Anyhow, that is a powerful charm, and if you'll only dis- 
 simulate " 
 
 " Oh ! I can be a match for him if I like." 
 
 "You must promise me one thing more." 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " No knives; no bloodshed." 
 
 Radonic did not answer for a moment, but cast on Milena an 
 angry look, his hand seeking the handle of his knife.
 
 FOB RATI M 127 
 
 " Will you promise ? " 
 
 " Are you so fond of him that you are frightened I'll kill 
 him ? " 
 
 " I hate him." 
 
 " Then " 
 
 "• Still, it is no reason to murder him." 
 
 Radonic seemed lost in his own thoughts. 
 
 " Moreover, he is weak and puny, whilst you are made of 
 iron." She laid her hand on his shoulder. " No knives, then ; 
 it's understood ? " 
 
 " I promise to use no knife." 
 
 The morrow was a beautiful day; winter seemed already 
 to be waking from its short sleep. The sun was shining 
 brightly, and as the breeze was fresh and bracing, his cheerful 
 warmth was pleasant, especially for people who have to depend 
 upon his rays for their only heat. Spring seemed already to be 
 at hand, and, in fact, the first violets and primroses might have 
 been seen glinting in sunny spots. 
 
 Milena 'was returning from market, and her eyes were 
 wandering far on the wide expanse of gUttering blue waters, 
 but her thoughts, Uke fleet halcyons, dived far away into the 
 hazy distance, unfathomable to the sight itself, and she hummed 
 to herself the following song : 
 
 " A crystal rill I fain would be, 
 
 And down the deep dell then I'd go; 
 
 Close to his cottage I would flow. 
 Thus every morn my love I'd see, 
 Oft to his lips I might be pressed, 
 And nestle close unto his breast." 
 
 Then she sighed and tried not to think, for hers, indeed, was 
 forlorn hope. 
 
 All at once she heard someone walking behind her, coming 
 nearer and nearer. She hastened her steps ; still, the person 
 who followed her walked on quicker. 
 
 " What a hurry you are in, Milena," said Vranic, coming up 
 to her. 
 
 "Oh! is it you?" she replied, with feigned surprise; then 
 she shuddered, thinking that she had not her amulet, and was 
 at the mercy of this artful man. " You frightened me." 
 
 " Dear me, I'm afraid I'm always frightening you 1 Still, 
 believe me, I'd give my soul to the devil for one of your smiles, 
 for a good word from you, Milena."
 
 128 POBRA TIM 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Children are deceived with cakes, women with sweet words, 
 they say." 
 
 He cast a sidelong glance at her. 
 
 " You don't look well, to-day ; you are pale." 
 
 "Am I ?" 
 
 " Yes ; what's the matter ? " 
 
 " How can I look well, with that brute of a husband of mine ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! he got home rather the worse for drink yesterday 
 evening, didn't he ? " 
 
 " You ought to know ; you were with him." 
 
 " Well, yes, I was; at least, part of the evening." 
 
 " And when he was as mad as a wild bull, you sent him 
 home to me, didn't you ? " 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Vranic, when will you finish persecuting me ? What have 
 I done to you ? " 
 
 " Milena, it is true I am bad ; but is it my fault ? has 
 not the world made me what I am ? Why have I not a 
 right to my share of happiness as other men ? " 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Vranic, but what can I do for you ? " 
 
 " You can do whatever you like with me, make me as 
 good as a lamb." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " Have pity on me ; I love you I " 
 
 "How can you say you love me, when you have tried to 
 harm me in every possible way ? " 
 
 " I was jealous ; besides, I saw that you hated me, therefore 
 you know it was my only chance of success. In love and in 
 war all means are good." 
 
 She shuddered ; still, she managed to master herself and 
 hide the loathing she felt for him. 
 
 " So you thought that, after having driven me to 
 distraction ' ' 
 
 " I should be your friend in need." 
 
 "Fine friend." Then after a pause: "Anyhow, my present 
 life is such that, rather than bear it any longer, I'll go and 
 drown myself some day or other." 
 
 "You'd never do that, Milena." 
 
 " Why not ? Therefore, if you care for me ever so little, 
 use your influence over Radonic, undo your work, get him 
 to be a little less of a brute than he has been of late."
 
 POBRATIM 129 
 
 " And then you'll laugh at me ? " 
 
 " Who does good can expect better," and she tried to 
 look at him less harshly than she was wont to do, and did 
 not turn her eyes away from him. 
 
 " No, Milena, first " 
 
 "What! first the pay, then the work? It would be against 
 the proverb." 
 
 " Then promise me at least that \ou will try to love me 
 a little ? " 
 
 " No," said she, with a toss of her pretty head, and a 
 smile in her mischievous, sparkling eyes ; " I promise 
 nothing." 
 
 He thereupon took her hand and kissed it, saying : 
 
 " I am making a poor bargain, for I am sure that your 
 heart is empty." 
 
 " If you cannot manage to awaken love in an empt_\- 
 heart, it will be your fault ; besides, you can always be in 
 time to undo your work." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 "You have me in your power, for Radonic, in your hands, 
 is as pliable as putty, is he not ? " 
 
 "Perhaps!" and the wrinkles of his cheeks deepened into 
 a grim smile. 
 
 " Then let my husband come home a little less cross than 
 he has been of late, will you ? " she said, in a coaxing 
 tone, and her voice had for him all the sweetness of the 
 nightingale's trill. 
 
 " I'll try," and his blinking, grey-green eyes gloated upon 
 her, whilst that horrible cast in them made her shiver and 
 feel sick ; but then she thought of Uros, and the idea that 
 his life might be in danger by the power this man wielded 
 over her husband made her conceal her real state of feelings 
 and smile upon him pleasantly. 
 
 He put his arm round her waist, and whispered words of 
 love into her ear, words that seemed to sink deep into her 
 flesh and blister her ; and she felt like a bird, covered over 
 with slime by a snake, before being swallowed up. 
 
 He, at that moment — withal he was a seer — fancied Milena 
 falling in his arms ; his persevering love had conquered at last. 
 Radonic would now be sent away to sea again, perhaps never 
 to come back, and he would remain the undisputed master 
 of Milena's heart.
 
 I30 POBRA TIM 
 
 " Well, love me a little and I'll change your life from a hell 
 into a heaven. I'll read your slightest wish in your eyes to 
 satisfy it." 
 
 "Thank you," she said, shuddering, disengaging herself from 
 his grasp, but feeling herself growing pale. 
 
 " What is the matter, my love ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing, only I told you I was not feeling well ; my 
 husband almost killed me yesterday." 
 
 " Well, I promise that it'll be the last time he touches you." 
 
 They had now reached the door of her house, and Vranic, 
 after having renewed his protestations, went off, whilst Milena 
 entered the house and locked herself in. 
 
 That evening Radonic came home rather earlier than usual. 
 He was sober, but in a sullen mood, and looked at Milena 
 sheepishlj'. She set the supper on the table and waited upon 
 him ; when he had finished, she took the dish and sat down 
 on the hearth to have her meal. 
 
 " Well," quoth Radonic, puffing at his pipe, " have you 
 seen Vranic to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes, I met him when I was coming home from market." 
 
 " Henceforth," said he, " I forbid you going to market 
 again." 
 
 " Very well," said she, meekly. 
 
 " And ? " 
 
 " He accompanied me home." 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " That you were pulpy, therefore he could do with you 
 whatever he liked." 
 
 " Ah ! he said that, did he ? " and in his rage Radonic 
 broke his pipe. " Then ? " 
 
 "He would first undo his work, make you as gentle as a 
 lamb, then he would send you off to sea, and " 
 
 Radonic muttered a fearful oath between his teeth. 
 
 " Can't you understand ? Has he not spoken well of me ? " 
 
 " He has, the villain, and it wanted all my patience not 
 to clutch him by the neck and pluck his vile tongue out of 
 his mouth — but I'll bide mv time."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MURDER 
 
 A FEW days afterwards Milena heard a low whistle outside, 
 just as if someone were calling her ; the whistling was repeated 
 again and again. She went to the open door, and she saw 
 Vranic at a distance, apparently on the watch for her. As 
 soon as he saw her, he beckoned to her to come out. She 
 stepped on the threshold, and he came up to her. 
 
 " Good news, eh ? " said he. 
 
 •• What news ? " 
 
 " Has Radonic not opened his mouth to you ? "' 
 
 " He has hardly said a single word all these days." 
 
 '■ Impossible ! " 
 
 '• May I be struck blind if he has 1 " 
 
 " Strange." 
 
 " Well, but what is it all about ? " 
 
 " He told me it was a great secret ; still, I did not believe 
 him." 
 
 " But what is this great secret ? " 
 
 " He is going off to Montenegro for a day or two, as he has 
 to buy a cargo of castradina. Of course, he'll stay a week ; and 
 as soon as he comes back, he'll start at once on a long voyage." 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " 
 
 " Yes, he is ; and it's all my own doing. Now you can't say 
 that I don't love you, Milena, can you ? " 
 
 She did not give him any answer. 
 
 " You don't seem glad. Once you'd have been delighted to 
 have a reprieve from his ill-treatment." 
 
 '• Yes, but now he's only moody. He hasn't beaten me for 
 some days." 
 
 " I told you he was as manageable as putty. Like all bullies, 
 you can shave him without a razor, if you only know how to 
 go about it." 
 
 " Yes ; only beware. Such men never keep shape — at least, 
 not for any length of time." 
 
 9—2
 
 132 POBRATIM 
 
 " He'll keep shape till he goes, for that's to-morrow ; then " 
 
 and he winked at her as he said this. 
 
 " Come, Vranic, be kind for once in your life." 
 
 " Has anybody ever been kindto me ? " 
 
 " ' Do good, and don't repent having done it ; do evil, and 
 expect evil,' says the proverb." 
 
 "I never do anything for nothing; so to-morrow night I'll 
 come for my reward." 
 
 " Leave me alone, Vranic ; if not for my sake, do it for your 
 own good. Fanc}', if Radonic were to return. Surely you 
 wouldn't shave him quite as easil)' as you think." 
 
 " I'll take the risk upon myself. I have lulled all his sus- 
 spicions, so that he has now implicit trust in you. Besides, 
 I'll first see him well out of the town with my own eyes ; 
 Vranic is not a seer for nothing," and he winked knowingly 
 with his blinking eyes. 
 
 " You don't know Radonic : if you are a fox, he is no goose. 
 He is capable of coming back just to see what I am doing." 
 
 " I think I know him a little better than you do, and a 
 longer time. We have been friends from childhood ; in fact, 
 all but pobratim." 
 
 " That's the reason why you are ready to deceive him, then ? " 
 
 " What business had he to marry you ? What would I not 
 do for your love, Milena ? Why, I'd give my soul to Satan, 
 if he wanted it." 
 
 I'm afraid it's no longer yours to give away. But come, 
 Vranic, if you really are as fond of me as you pretend to be, 
 have some pity on me, be kind ; think how wretched my whole 
 life has hitherto been, leave me alone, forget me." 
 
 " Ask me anything else but that. How can I forget you ? 
 How can I cease loving you, when I live only for you ? I 
 only see through your eyes." 
 
 "Then I'll ask Radonic to take me to Montenegro with him, 
 and I'll remain with my family." 
 
 " And I'll follow you there. You don't understand all the 
 strength of my love for you." 
 
 Thereupon, forgetting his usual prudence, he stepped up to 
 her, and passing his arm round her waist, he strained her to 
 his breast, and wanted to kiss her. She wriggled and struggled, 
 and tried to push him away. 
 
 '■ Unhand me." she said, alarmed ; " unhand me at once, or 
 I'll scream."
 
 POBRATIM 133 
 
 " Lot of good it'll do you. Come," he replied, " remember 
 .your promise. I've kept my part, try and keep yours with 
 good grace or " 
 
 " What ? " she asked, alarmed. 
 
 " Or b}- the holy Virgin, it'll be so much the worse for you! 
 
 I know " he stopped, and then he added: " In fact, I know 
 
 what I know. Remember, therefore, it is much better to have 
 Vranic for your friend than for your foe." 
 
 '• Mind, you think me a dove." 
 
 " I only know that women have long hair and little brains. 
 Try and not be like most of them." 
 
 " Mind, I might for once have more brains than you ; there- 
 fore, I entreat you, nay, I command you, not to try and see me 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " As for that, I'll use my own discretion." 
 
 Saying these words, he went off, and left Milena alone. As 
 soon as he had disappeared, she went in, and sank down on 
 the hearth ; there, leaning her elbows on her knees, she hid 
 her face between her palms ; then she began nursing her grief. 
 
 " They say I am happy," she muttered to herself, " because 
 I am rich — though I have not a penny that I can call my own — 
 because I can eat white bread every day. Yet would it not be 
 better by far to be an animal and graze in the fields, than eat 
 bread moistened with my own tears ? Oh ! why was I not 
 born a man ? Then, at least, I might have gone where I 
 liked— done what I pleased. 
 
 " They think I am happy, because no one knows what 
 my life has been ; though, it is true, what is a woman's life 
 amongst us ? 
 
 " She toils in the field the whole of the live-long day, whilst 
 her husband smokes his pipe. She is laden like a beast of 
 burden ; she is yoked to the plough with an ox or an ass, and 
 when they go to pasture she trudges home with the harness, 
 to nurse the children or attend to household work. Mean- 
 while, her master leisurely chats with his friends at the inns, 
 or listens to the guzlar. 
 
 '• What is her food ? The husks that dogs cannot eat, the 
 bones which have already been picked. If Turkish women 
 have no souls, they, at least, are not treated like beasts during 
 their lifetime. 
 
 " Oh ! holy Virgin, why was I not born a man ? " 
 
 That evening Radonic canie home more sullen and peevish
 
 134 POBRATIM 
 
 than usual ; still, he was sober. He sat down to supper, and 
 Milena waited upon him. As soon as he had pushed his plate 
 away : 
 
 " Have you seen Vranic to-day ? " he asked, gruffly. 
 
 " I have," answered the wife, meekly. 
 
 " Ah, you have ! " and he uttered a fearful oath. 
 
 Milena crossed herself. 
 
 " And where have you seen him ? " 
 
 " He came here at the door." 
 
 " May he have a fit to-night," he grunted. Then, after a puff 
 at his pipe : " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " That you intended starting to-morrow morning for Monte- 
 negro, to buy castradiiia, and- — ■" 
 
 Radonic gave such a mighty thump on the table that the 
 hiikara was upset. It rolled and fell to the ground before 
 it could be caught. Milena hastened to pick it up, but the 
 wine was spilt. The husband thereupon, not knowing how 
 to vent his spite, gave a kick to the poor woman just as 
 she stooped to pick it up. She slipped and fell sprawling 
 to the ground, uttering a stifled groan. Then she got up, 
 deathly pale, and went to sit down in a corner of the room, 
 and began to cry unperceived. 
 
 " And what did you answer when he told you that I was 
 starting ? " 
 
 " I begged him to leave me in peace, and above all not to 
 come to-morrow evening, if his life was dear to him." 
 
 "Ah! you begged him, did you? Well, if ever man was 
 blessed with a foolish wife, I am." 
 
 A moment's silence followed, after which he added : 
 
 " What a fool a man is who gets married — above all, a 
 sailor who takes as his wife a feather-brained creature, as 
 you are. May God hurl a thunderbolt at me if I'd marry 
 again were I but free." 
 
 Poor Milena did not reply, for she was inured to such 
 taunts, Radonic being one of those men who pride them- 
 selves on speaking out their own minds. She kept crying 
 quietl}' — not for the pain she felt, but because she dreaded 
 the fatal consequences of the kick she had just received. 
 
 "Will you stop whimpering, or I'll come and give you 
 something to cry for. It's really beyond all powers of en- 
 durance to hear a woman whine and a pig squeak ; if there 
 is a thing that dri\-es me mad, it's that."
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 135 
 
 Thereupon Radonic began to puff at his pipe savagely, 
 snarling and snorting as he smoked. 
 
 " And may I ask why you begged that double-faced, white- 
 livered friend of yours not to come to-morrow evening ? " 
 he asked, after some minutes. 
 
 "Vranic was never a friend of mine," said Milena, proudly. 
 
 " Admitting he wasn't, still you haven't answered my 
 question ; but I suppose it doesn't suit you to answer, 
 does it ? " 
 
 " Why not ? I begged him not to come because I was 
 afraid some mischief might ensue, withal you promised me 
 not to be rash." 
 
 " I promised you, did I ? Anyhow, I find that you take a 
 great interest in this friend of mine, far more than it be- 
 comes an honest woman." Then, with a scowl and a sneer: 
 " If you are honest." 
 
 Milena winced, and grew deathly pale. She did not give 
 her husband any answer, so he, after grunting and grumbling 
 and smoking for some time, got up and went to bed. 
 She, however, remained where she was seated — or rather 
 crouched — for she knew that she could not sleep. 
 
 How could she sleep ? 
 
 First, she was not feeling well. The kick she had received 
 in her side had produced a slight, dull, gnawing soreness ; 
 moreover, she felt — or at least she fancied she could feel — 
 a gnawing pain ; it was not much of a pain, only it seemed 
 as if a watch were ticking there within her. She shuddered 
 and felt sick, a cold sweat gathered on her brow, and she 
 trembled from head to foot. 
 
 Some women in her state — she had heard — never got 
 over the consequences of a blow ; perhaps the kick might 
 produce mortification, and then in a few days she would 
 die. Yes, she felt as if she had received an inward incurable 
 bruise. Well, after all, it was but right ; she had deceived 
 her husband ; he had revenged himself. Now they were 
 quits. 
 
 Still tears started to her eyes, and sobs rose to her throat. 
 
 Well, after all, she thought, what did it matter if she 
 died ? This wretched life would be over. 
 
 Only 
 
 Only what ? 
 
 Yes, she avowed it to herself : she longed to see Uros'
 
 136 P OB R A TIM 
 
 fond face once more before dying. With her hand locked 
 in his, her eyes gazing upon him, death would have almost 
 been bliss. 
 
 With a repressed and painful yearning, her lover's name 
 at last escaped her lips. 
 
 Radonic, who had been snoring as if he was about to 
 suffocate, uttered a kind of snorting sound, then he started 
 and woke with a fearful curse on his lips. 
 
 Milena, shuddering, uttered a half-stifled cry. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked. 
 
 " Nothing, I was only dreaming. I thought that a young 
 sailor, whom I once crippled with a kick, had gripped me 
 by my neck, and was choking me." 
 
 " It must have been the morina " (the nightmare) " sitting 
 on you," and Milena crossed herself. 
 
 " How is it you are not in bed ? " he asked, scowling. 
 
 She did not speak for an instant. 
 
 He started up to look at her. 
 
 " Perhaps that villain is sneaking about the house, and 
 you wish to warn him ? " 
 
 " Your jealousy really drives you mad." 
 
 " Well, then, will you speak ? Why are you not yet in bed ? " 
 
 " I— I don't feel exactly well." 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " 
 
 " The kick you gave me," she retorted, falteringly. 
 
 "Why, I hardly touched you I well, you are getting mighty 
 delicate ; you ought to have had the kick I gave that sailor 
 lad, then you would have known the strength of my foot ! " 
 
 " Yes, but " She checked herself, and then added : 
 
 " Women are delicate." 
 
 " Oh ! so you are going to be a grand lady, and be delicate, 
 are you ? Who ever heard of a Montenegrin being delicate ? " 
 Then he added : " If you don't feel well, go to bed and try to 
 sleep." 
 
 Thereupon he turned on the other side, and began to snore 
 very soon afterwards. 
 
 Milena began to think of what had been and might have 
 been. 
 
 She had sinned, foolishly, thoughtlessly ; but since that fatal 
 night she had never known a single moment's happiness. As 
 time passed, the heinousness of her sin rose up before her, 
 more dreadful, more appalling.
 
 POBRATIM 137 
 
 Still, was it the sin itself, or its dire consequences, that 
 rendered her so moody, so timorous ? 
 
 She never asked herself such a question ; she only knew that 
 she now started, like a guilty thing, at the slightest noise, and 
 she shivered if anybody spoke to her abruptly. At times she 
 fancied everybod}' could read her guilt in her face. 
 
 She had been more than once tempted, of late, to tell her 
 husband that, in some months, she would be a mother. Still, 
 the words had ever stuck in her throat ; she could never nerve 
 herself enough to speak. 
 
 Though he might probably never have got to know the real 
 truth, could she tell him that he was the father of her child, or, 
 at least, allow him to think so ? No, she could never do that, 
 for it was impossible to act that lie the whole of her life. 
 Could she see her husband, returning from a long voyage, take 
 in his arms and fondle the child that was not his, the child that 
 he would strangle if he knew whose it was ? 
 
 Although an infant is the real, nay, the only bond of married 
 life, still, the child of sin is a spectre ever rising 'twixt husband 
 and wife, estranging them from one another for ever. 
 
 Then she had better confess her guilt at once. And bring 
 about three deaths ? Aye, surely ; Radonic was not a man to 
 forgive. He had crippled a sailor lad for some trifle. 
 
 She must keep her secret a little longer — and then ? 
 
 Thereupon she fell on her knees before the silver-clad image 
 of the Virgin. 
 
 " Oh, holy Virgin, help me ! for to whom can I turn for help 
 but to thee ? Help me, and I promise thee never to sin again, 
 either by word or action, all my life." And she kissed the 
 icon devoutly. " Oh, holy Virgin, help me ! for thou canst do 
 any miracle thou likest. Show mercy upon me, and draw me 
 from this sorrowful plight. I shall work hard, and get thee, 
 with my earnings, as huge a taper as money can buy. 
 
 " And thou, great St. George, who didst kill a dragon to save 
 a maid, save me from Vranic ; and every year, upon thy holy 
 day, I shall burn incense and light a candle before thy picture, 
 if thou wilt listen to my prayer." 
 
 After that, feeling somewhat comforted, she went to bed, and 
 at last managed to fall asleep, notwithstanding the pain she 
 felt in her side. • 
 
 On the morrow Radonic went away as usual, and Milena was 
 left alone. The day passed away slowly, gloomily. The
 
 138 POBRA TIM 
 
 weather was dull, sultry, oppressive. The sirocco that blew 
 every now and then in fitful, silent gusts, was damp, stifling, 
 heavy. A storm was brewing in the air overhead, and all 
 around there was a lull, as if anxious Nature were waiting in 
 sullen expectation for its outburst. The earth was fretful ; the 
 sky as peevish as a human being crossed in his designs. The 
 hollow, rumbling noise in the clouds seemed the low grumbling 
 of contained anger. 
 
 Everybody was more or less unsettled by the weather — 
 Milena more than anyone else. As the day passed her 
 nervousness increased, and solitude grew to be oppressive. 
 
 Her husband, before leaving the house, had told her to go 
 and spend the evening at her kinswoman's, as a bee was to be 
 held there ; the women spun, and the men prepared stakes for 
 the vines. Bellacic was fond of company, and he liked to have 
 people with merry faces around him, helping him to while awaj- 
 the long evening hours ; nor did he grudge a helping hand to 
 others, whenever his neighbours had any kind of work for him 
 to do. 
 
 " I'll come there and fetch you as soon as I've settled my 
 business with Vranic," said Radonic, going off. 
 
 Milena, understanding that her husband wanted her out of 
 the way, decided upon remaining at home, and, possibly, 
 preventing further mischief. 
 
 The day had been dark and gloomy from morning ; the 
 clouds heaped overhead grew always blacker, and kept coming 
 down lower and ever lower. Early in the afternoon the light 
 began to wane. Her uneasiness increased at approaching 
 night. With the gloaming her thoughts grew dreary and 
 dismal. She was afraid to remain at home ; she was loth to 
 go away. Unable to work any longer, she went outside to sit 
 on the doorstep and spin. Now, at last, the rain began, and 
 lurid flashes were seen through the several heaps and masses 
 of clouds. 
 
 The lightning showed to her excited imagination not only 
 numberless witches, morine and goblins, chasing and racing 
 after each other like withered leaves in a storm, but in that 
 horrid landscape she perceived murderous battles, hurtling 
 onslaughts, fearful frays and bloodshed, followed by spaces 
 that looked like fields of fire and gory hills of trodden snow. 
 It was too dreadful to look at, so she turned round to go in. 
 She would light the lamp and kindle the fire. At a few
 
 POBRATIM 139 
 
 steps from the threshold she heard, or, at least, she fancied 
 she heard, someone whistle outside. She stopped to listen. 
 Perhaps it was only the shrill sound of the wind through the 
 leafless bushes ; for the wind has at times the knack of 
 whistling like a human being. 
 
 She again advanced a step or two towards the hearth ; and 
 as she did so, she stumbled on something. She uttered a low, 
 muffled cry as she almost fell. On what had her foot caught ? 
 She bent down, and felt with her hand. It seemed like the 
 corpse of a man stretched out at full' length — a human creature 
 wallowing in his own blood. A sickening sense of fear, a feeling 
 of faintness, came over her. She hardly dared to move. Her 
 teeth were chattering ; all her limbs were trembling. Still, she 
 managed to recover her self-possession, so as to grope and put 
 her hand on the steel and flint. Still, such was her terror, 
 that everything she touched assumed an uncouth, ungainly, 
 weird shape. Having found the steel, she managed to strike 
 a light. That faint glimmer dispelled her terror, and she 
 asked herself how she could have been so foolish as to take a 
 coat lying on the floor for a murdered man. 
 
 The thing that puzzled her was how that coat came to be 
 lying there on the floor. It was her husband's old kabanicn, 
 and it must have been left on some stool. 
 
 As all these thoughts flitted through her mind, a loud crack 
 was heard — a jarring sound amidst the hushed stillness of the 
 house. Milena shuddered ; a hand seemed to grip her throat. 
 Her heart stopped for a moment ; then it began to throb and 
 beat as if it were going to burst. She gasped for breath. 
 
 What was that ominous noise ? The hoop of a tub had 
 broken ! 
 
 To the uninitiated this might seem a trifle, but to those \ersed 
 in occult lore it was a fearful omen. Someone was to die in 
 that house, and this death was to happen soon, very soon ; 
 perhaps before daybreak. 
 
 She was so scared that she could not remain a moment 
 longer in that house ; so, wrapping herself up in her husband's 
 old coat, she hastened out of the house. Just then Uros' last 
 words sounded in her ears : 
 
 " If you are alone and in trouble, go to my mother ; she will 
 not only be a friend to you, but love you as a daughter for my 
 sake." 
 
 Her husband that morning had sent her to Mara's ; she
 
 I40 POBRA TIM 
 
 could not remain alone any longer; it was Kismet that she 
 should go. Besides, Vranic might be coming now at any 
 moment, and even if she swore to him that her husband 
 had not started, he would not believe her; then she would 
 only excite her husband to greater wrath if he came and found 
 him alone with her. No, on the whole, it was better by far 
 to obey her husband's behest ; therefore, she started off. She 
 ran quickly through the pouring rain, and never stopped till 
 she was at Bellacic's door. 
 
 " Oh ! Milena, is it you ? " said Mara, her motherly eyes 
 twinkling with a bright smile of welcome; "though, to tell 
 you the real truth, I almost expected you." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because a big fly has been buzzing round me, telling me 
 that some person who is fond of me would come and see me. 
 Oracles are always true ; besides," added she, with a smile 
 and a sly look, "just guess of what I've been dreaming ? " 
 
 '• Of black grapes, that bring good luck, I suppose." 
 
 " No, of doves ; so I'll surely get a letter from Uros to- 
 morrow or the day after." 
 
 Milena looked down demurely ; she blushed ; then, to turn 
 away the conversation, she added : 
 
 " To-day, for a wonder, Radonic has sent me to pass the 
 evening with you ; he'll come to fetch me later on — at least, 
 he said he would." 
 
 •• It is a wonder, indeed — why, what's come over him ? He 
 must have put on his coat inside out when he got up." 
 
 Milena thereupon told her friend why her husband did not 
 want her at home. 
 
 '• Anyhow, I'm very glad you've come, for I'm embroidering 
 two waistcoats — one for Uros, the other for Milenko — and my 
 poor eyes are getting rather weak, so you can help me a 
 little with the fine stitching." 
 
 " Radonic told me that some of j-our neighbours are coming 
 to make stakes." 
 
 " Are they ? My husband did not say anything about it." 
 
 After some time, Markovic and his wife, and several other 
 neighbours, made their appearance. 
 
 As every man came in, he greeted Milena, and, seeing her 
 alone, asked her where Radonic was. She, like a true Monte- 
 negrin, warded off the question by answering with a shrug of 
 her shoulders and in an off-hand way :
 
 POBRATIM 141 
 
 " May the devil take him, if I know where he is. I daresay 
 he'll pop up by-and-bye." 
 
 Etiquette not only requires a wife to avoid speaking of her 
 husband, but also to eschew him completely when present, just 
 as piore northern people ignore entirely the name of certain 
 indispensable articles of clothing. 
 
 When all the guests were assembled, and such dainties as 
 roasted Indian-corn, melon, pumpkin and sun-flower seeds 
 were handed round, together with filberts and walnuts, then 
 the bard (the honoured guest) was begged to sing them a 
 song. The improvisatore, stroking his long moustache and 
 twisting its ends upwards that they might not be too much 
 in his way as he spoke, took down his guzla and began to 
 scrape it by way of prelude. This was not, as amongst us, 
 a sign to begin whispered conversation in out of the way 
 corners, or to strike an attitude of bored sentimentality, for 
 everybody listened now with rapt attention. 
 
 THE FAITHLESS WIFE. 
 
 When Gjuro was about to start for war, 
 
 And leave his wife alone within his hall, 
 
 He fondly said : " Dear Jeljena, farewell, 
 
 My faithful wife ; I now hie to the camp, 
 
 From whence I hope to come back soon ; so for 
 
 Thine own sweet sake and mine be true to me." 
 
 In haste the wanton woman answered back : 
 " Go, my loved lord, and God watch over thee." 
 
 He had but gone beyond the gate, when she 
 
 Took up a jug and went across the field 
 
 To fetch fresh water from the fountain there ; 
 
 And having got unto the grassy glen, she saw 
 
 A handsome youth, who had adorned his cap 
 
 With flowers freshly culled from terebinth. 
 
 And unto him the sprightly wife thus spoke : 
 " Good day to thee, brave Petar ; tell me, pray. 
 
 Where hast thou bought those blossoms fresh and fair?" 
 
 And he : " God grant thee health, O Gjuro's wife; 
 
 They were not got for gold, they are a gift." 
 
 Then Jelka hastened back to her own house. 
 
 And to her room she called her trusted maid. 
 " Now list," said she. " Go quick beyond the field 
 
 And try to meet young Petar Latkovin ; 
 
 With terebinth you'll see his cap adorned. 
 
 Say unto him : ' Fair youth, to thee I bear 
 
 The greetings of good Gjuro's wife, and she 
 
 Doth kindly beg that thou wilt sup with her,
 
 142 POBRA TIM 
 
 And spend the night in dalliance and delight — 
 
 And give her one fair flower from thy cap. 
 
 The castle hath nine gates; the postern door 
 
 Will ope for thee, now Gjuro is far off.' " 
 
 The handmaid forthwith to the fountain sped, 
 
 And found the j'outh. " Good day, my lord," said she. 
 
 " Great Gjuro's winsome wife her greetings sends ; 
 She begs that thou will sup with her this night, 
 And grant her those sweet sprays of terebinth. 
 Nine gates our manor has ; the small side door 
 Will be left ope for thee, my handsome youth. 
 As Gjuro is away." Then Petar thanked 
 And longed that night might come. At dusk, with joy 
 He to the castle sped. He put his steed 
 In Gjuro's stall, and then his sword he hung 
 Just in the place where Gjuro hung his own, 
 And set his cap where Gjuro placed his casque. 
 In mirth they supped, and sleep soon closed their eyes; 
 But, lo ! when midnight came, the wife did hear 
 Her husband's voice that called : " My Jelka dear, 
 Come, my loved wife, and open quick thy doors." 
 Distracted with great fear, she from her bed 
 Sprang down, scarce knowing what to do ; but soon 
 She hid the youth, then let her husband in. 
 With feigning love she to his arms v/ould fly. 
 But he arrested her with frowning mien. 
 
 " Why didst thou not call quick thy maiden up 
 To come and ope at once these doors of thine ? " 
 
 " Sweet lord, believe a fond and faithful wife: 
 Last night this maid of mine went off in pain 
 To bed ; she suffers from the ague, my lord ; 
 So I was loth, indeed, to call her up." 
 
 " If this be true, you were quite right," quoth he ; 
 
 " Vet I do fear that all thy words are lies." 
 
 " May God now strike me dumb, if all I spake 
 Be aught than truth," said Jeljena at once. 
 But frowning, Gjuro stood with folded arms : 
 
 " Whose is that horse within my stall ? and whose 
 That cap adorned with flowers gay ? And there 
 I see a stranger's sword upon the wall." 
 
 " Now listen to thy loving wife, my lord. 
 Last night a warrior came within thy walls. 
 And wanted wine, in pledge whereof he left 
 His prancing steed, his sword, and that smart cap," 
 Said Yelka, smiling sweetly to her lord. 
 And he with lowering looks, then said : " 'Tis well, 
 Provided thou canst swear thou speakest true." 
 
 " The Lord may strike me blind," she then replied. 
 
 " Why is thy hair dishevelled, and thy cheeks
 
 POBRATIM 143 
 
 Of such a pallid hue ? now. tell me why ? " 
 
 And she : " Believe thine honest wife. Last night 
 
 As I did walk beneath our orchard trees, 
 
 The apple boughs dishevelled thus my hair, 
 
 And then I breathed the orange blossom scent, 
 
 Until their fragrance almost made me faint." 
 
 Now Gjuro's face was fearful to behold. 
 
 Still as he frowned he only said : " 'Tis well, 
 " But on the holy Cross now take an oath." 
 " My lord, upon the holy Cross I swear." 
 " Now give me up the key of mine own room." 
 
 Then Jeljena grew ghastly pale with fear. 
 
 Still she replied in husky tones : " Last night 
 
 As I came from your room the key did break 
 
 Within the lock, so now the door is shut." 
 
 But he cried out in wrath : " Give me my key. 
 
 Or from thy shoulders I shall smite thy head ! " 
 
 She stood aghast and speechless with affright. 
 
 So with his foot he burst at once the door. 
 
 There in the room he found young Latkovin. 
 " Now, answer quick : Didst thou come here by strength, 
 
 Or by her will ? " The youth a while stood mute. 
 
 Not knowing what to say. But looking up : 
 " Were it by mine own strength," he then replied, 
 " Beyond the hills she now would be with me ; 
 
 If I am here, 'tis by her own free will." 
 
 Then standing straight, with stern and stately mien, 
 
 Unto the youth he said, in scornful tones : 
 " Hence, get thee gone ! " Now, when they were alone. 
 
 He glanced askance upon his guilty wife 
 
 With loathsomeness and hatred in his eyes : 
 " Now, tell me of what death thou'lt rather die- 
 By having all thy bones crushed in a mill ? 
 
 Or being trodden down 'neath horses' hoofs ? 
 
 Or flaring as a torch to light a feast ? " 
 
 She, for a trice, nor spake, nor moved, nor breathed, 
 
 But stood as if amazed and lost in thought ; 
 
 Then, waking up as from some frightful dream . 
 " I am no corn to be crushed in a mill. 
 
 Or stubble grass for steeds to tread upon ; 
 
 If I must die, then, like unto a torch, 
 
 Let me burn brightly in thy banquet hall." 
 In freezing tones the husband spake and said : 
 " Be it, then, as you list," and thereupon 
 
 He made her wear a long white waxen gown. 
 
 Then, in his hall, he bound her to a pyre. 
 
 And underneath he piled up glowing coals. 
 
 So that the flame soon rose and reached her knees. 
 With tearful eyes and a heartrending cry :
 
 144 POBRATIM 
 
 " Oh ! Gjuro mine, take pity on my youth ; 
 
 Look at my feet, as white as winter snow ; 
 
 Think of the times they tripped about this hall 
 
 In mazy dance ; let not my feet be scorched." 
 
 To all her prayers he turned a ruthless ear, 
 
 And only heaped more wood on the pile. 
 
 The lambent flames now leapt up to her hands, 
 
 And she in anguish and in dreadful dole 
 
 Cried out: " Oh ! show some mercy on m}- youth ; 
 
 Just see my hands — so soft, so small, so smooth — 
 
 Let not these scathful flames now scorch my hands. 
 
 Have pity on these dainty hands of mine. 
 
 That often lifted up thy babe to thee." 
 
 Her words awoke no pity in his heart. 
 
 That seemed to have become as cold as clay ; 
 
 He only heaped up coals upon the pile. 
 
 Like some fell demon who had fled from hell. 
 
 The forked lurid tongues rose up on high, 
 
 Like slender fiery snakes that sting the flesh. 
 
 And, leaping up, they reached her snowy breast. 
 " Oh ! Gjuro," she cried out, " for pity's sake 
 ' Have mercy on my youth ; torment me not. 
 
 Though I was false to thee, let me not die. 
 
 See how these fearful flames deflower these breasts — 
 
 The fountain that hath fed thine infant's life — 
 
 See, they are oozing o'er with drops of milk." 
 
 But Gjuro's eyes were blind, his ears were deaf; 
 
 A viper now was coiled around his heart. 
 
 That urged him to heap up the pile with wood. 
 
 The rising flames began to blind her eyes ; 
 
 Still, ere the fearful smoke had choked her breath. 
 
 She cast on Gjuro one long loving glance. 
 
 And craved, in anguish, mercy on her youth : 
 " Have pity on my burning eyes, and let 
 
 Me look once more upon my little child." 
 
 To all her cries his cruel soul was shut ; 
 
 He only fanned and fed the fatal flame. 
 
 Until the faithless wife was burnt to death. 
 
 A moment of deep silence followed ; the men twisted their 
 moustaches silently, the women stealthily wiped away their 
 tears with the back of their hands. 
 
 "Gjuro was a brute!" at last broke out a youth, impetuously. 
 
 Nobody answered at once; then an elderly man said, slowly : 
 
 " Perhaps he was, but you are not a husband yet, Tripko ; 
 you are only in love. Adultery, amongst us, is no trifle, as it 
 is in Venice, for instance ; we Slavs never forgive." 
 
 " I don't say he ought to have forgiven ; in his place I might
 
 POBRA TIM 145 
 
 have strangled her, but as for burning a woman alive, as a 
 torch, I find it heinous ! " 
 
 Milena, who had fancied herself in Jeljena's place, could 
 not refrain her sobs any longer ; moreover, it seemed to her 
 as if her guilt had been found out, and she wished the earth 
 would open and swallow her alive. 
 
 "Oh, my poor Milena!" said Mara, soothingly, "you are 
 too tender-hearted; it is only a pisma, after all." Then, 
 turning to her neighbour, she added : " She has not been 
 
 well for some days, and then " she lowered her voice to 
 
 a whisper. 
 
 " I am sorry," said the bard, " that I upset vou in this way 
 but " 
 
 " Oh ! it is nothing, only I fancied I could see the poor 
 woman burning ; it was so dreadful I " 
 
 "Here," said Bellacic. "have a glass of slivovitz ; it'll set 
 you all right. Moreover, listen ; I'll tell you a much finer 
 story, only pay great attention, for I'm not very clever at 
 story-telhng. Are you all ears ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Milena, smiling. 
 
 " Well, once upon a time, there was a man who had three 
 dogs : the first was called Catch-it-quick ; the second, Bring-it- 
 back ; and the third, I -know-better. Now, one morning this 
 man got up very early to go out hunting, so he called Catch-it- 
 quick, Bring-it-back, and — and — how stupid I am! now I've 
 forgotten the name of the other dog. Well, I said I wasn't 
 good in telling stories ; what was it ? " 
 
 " I-know-better," interrupted Milena. 
 
 " No doubt you do, my dear, so perhaps you'll continue the 
 story yourself, as you know better." 
 
 Everybody laughed, and the gloom that had come over 
 the company after the bard's story was now dispelled. 
 
 " Radonic is late ; I'm afraid, Milena, if you went back 
 home, you'd have to prepare a stake for him," said Markovic. 
 Then, turning to the bard : " Come, Stoyan, give us another 
 pisma." 
 
 "Yes, but something merry," interrupted Tripko ; "tell us 
 some verses about the great Kraglievic.'" 
 
 The bard, contrary to his wont, was sipping his glass of 
 slivovitz very slowly ; he now finished it and said : 
 
 " I'll try, though, to tell you the truth, I'm rather out of 
 sorts this evening ; I really don't know why. There is an 
 
 10
 
 146 POBRA TIM 
 
 echo, as if of a crime, in the slightest noise, a smell of blood 
 in every gust of wind. Do you not hear anything ? Well, 
 perhaps, I am mistaken." 
 
 Everyone looked at one another wistfully, for the}' all 
 knew that old Stoyan was something of a prophet. 
 
 "There! listen, said he," staring vacantly; "did you not 
 hear ? " 
 
 "No," said Bellacic; "what was it?" 
 
 " Only the heavy thud of a man falling like a corpse on 
 the ground," and as he said these words he crossed himself 
 devoutly and muttered to himself: " May the Lord forgive 
 him, whoever he is." Thereupon everybody present crossed 
 himself, saying : " Bog nas ovari." 
 
 Milena shuddered and grew deathly pale ; though she was 
 not gifted with second sight, she saw in her mind's eye 
 something so dreadful that it almost made her faint with 
 terror. Mara, seeing her ghastly pale, said : 
 
 " Come, give us this song, but let it be something brisk 
 and merry, for the howling of the wind outside is like a 
 funeral wail, and it is that lament which makes us all so 
 moody to-night." 
 
 " You are right, gospodina ; besides, one man more or 
 less — provided he is no relation of ours — is really no great 
 matter. How many thousands fell treacherously at Kossoro." 
 Then, taking up his bow, he began to scrape the chord of 
 his guzla, in a swift, jerking, sprightly way. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Bellacic. 
 
 And Stoyan replied, as he began to sing : 
 
 MARKO KRAGLIEVIC'S FALCON. 
 
 A falcon flies o'er Budua town ; 
 It bears a gleaming golden crest, 
 Its wings are gilt, so is its breast ; 
 Of clear bright yellow is each claw, 
 And with its sheen it lights the wold. 
 
 Then all the maids of Budua town 
 Ask this fair sparkling bird of prey 
 Why it is yellow and not grey ? 
 Who gilded it without a flaw ? 
 Who gave it that bright crest of gold ? 
 
 And to the maids of Budua town 
 That falcon shy did thus reply : 
 Listen, ye maids, and know that I
 
 POBRATIM 147 
 
 Belong to Mark the warrior brave, 
 Who is as fair as he is boltl. 
 
 His sisters dwell in Budua town 
 The first, the fairest of the two. 
 Painted my claws a yellow hue. 
 And gilt my wings ; great Marko gave 
 To me this sparkling crest of gold. 
 
 He finished, and then, as it was getting late, everyone 
 began to wish Bellacic and Mara good-night and to go off. 
 Several of the guests offered to see Milena home, but the 
 domacica insisted that her kinswoman should remain and 
 spend the night with her, and Milena consented full willingly, 
 for she dreaded going back home. 
 
 When all the guests had gone, Mara took Milena in bed 
 with her ; but she, poor thing, could not find rest, for the 
 words of the bard kept ever ringing in her ears. Then she 
 saw again the great-coat lying on the floor, looking like a 
 corpse ; and, in the howling wind, she thought she heard a 
 voice calling for help. Who was it ? Radonic or Vranic ? 
 
 It was only the wind howling outside through the trees, 
 creeping slily along the whitewashed walls of the houses, 
 stealthily trying to find some small cranny wherein to creep, 
 then shrieking with a shrill cry of exultation when it had come 
 to an open window, or when, discovering some huge keyhole, it 
 could whistle undisturbed. 
 
 At last, just as Milena began to get drowsy, and her heavy 
 eyelids were almost closed, she again saw the kabanica, which 
 had — some hours ago — been lying on the floor, rise and twist 
 itself into the most grotesque and fantastic attitudes, then — 
 almost hidden under the hood — Vranic's face making mouths at 
 her. She opened her eyes widely, and although consciousness 
 had now returned, and she knew that the great-coat had been left 
 in the other room, still she saw it plainl}' dancing and capering 
 like a monkey. She shivered and shuddered ; she closed her 
 eyes not to see it ; still, it became ever more distinct. Then she 
 buried her face in the pillow, and covered up her head in the 
 sheet ; then by degrees a feeling of drowsiness came over her, 
 and just as she was going off to sleep the kabanica, which was 
 standing erect, fell all at once to the ground with a mighty thud 
 that almost shook the whole house, and even seemed to preci- 
 pitate her down some bottomless hole. In her terror she 
 clutched at Mara, who was fast asleep, and woke her. 
 
 10 — 2
 
 ^48 POBRATIM 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked the elderly woman. 
 
 " I heard a loud \oice ; did'nt you hear it ? " 
 
 '• No, I had just dropped off to sleep." 
 
 Thereupon both the women listened, but the house was per- 
 fectly quiet. 
 
 " What kind of a noise was it ? " 
 
 " Like a man falling heavily on the ground." 
 
 " You must have been dreaming ; Stoyan's words frightened 
 you, that's all, unless the cat or the dog knocked something down. 
 You know, at night every noise sounds strange, uncouth, whilst 
 in the day-time we'd never notice them. Now, the best thing 
 you can do is to try and go off to sleep." 
 
 Alas I why are we not Hke the bird that puts its head under 
 its wing and banishes at once the outer world from its view. 
 Every endeavour she made to bring about oblivion seemed, on 
 the contrary, to stimulate her to wakefulness, and thereby frus- 
 trate her efforts. Sleepiness only brought on mental irritation, 
 instead of soft, drowsy rest. The most gloomy thoughts came 
 into her mind. Why had her husband not come to fetch her ? 
 Perhaps Vranic, seeing himself discovered, had stabbed him to 
 death. Then she thought that, in this case, all her trouble 
 would be at an end. Thereupon she crossed herself devoutly, 
 and uttered a prayer that her husband might not be murdered, 
 even if he had been cruel to her. Still, she was quite sure that, 
 if Radonic ever discovered her guilt, he would surely murder 
 her — burn her, perhaps, like Gjuro had done. 
 
 Thereupon she heard the elderly man's slow and grave voice 
 ringing in her ears : 
 
 " Slavs never forgive. Adultery amongst us is no trifle, as it 
 is in Venice." 
 
 She shuddered with terror. Every single word as it had been 
 uttered had sunk deep into her breast, Hke drops of burning 
 wax falling from Jeljena's gown. Each one was hke the stab 
 of a sharp knife cutting her to the quick. 
 
 Then again she fancied that Stoyan had sung that pisina 
 only to taunt her. 
 
 She had once heard the pop read in the Bible about an adul- 
 teress in Jerusolim who was to be stoned to death. 
 
 Had not every word that evening been a stone thrust at her? 
 What was she to do ? What was to become of her ? Once 
 entangled in the net of sin, every effort we make to get out of 
 it seems to make us flounder deeper in its fatal meshes.
 
 POBRATIM 149 
 
 All these thoughts tortured and harassed her, burning tears 
 were ever trickling down her cheeks, her weary head was 
 aching as she tossed about, unable to go off to sleep, unable to 
 find rest ; nay, a creepiness had come over all her limbs, as if 
 a million ants were going up and down her legs. 
 
 How glad she was at last to see through the curtainless 
 window the first glimmer of dawn dispel the darkness of the 
 night — the long, dreary, unending night. 
 
 " You have had a bad night," said Mara. " I heard you 
 turning and tossing about, but I thought it better not to speak 
 to you. I suppose it was the bed. I'm like you, I always lose 
 my sleep in a new bed." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Milena. " I was anxious." 
 
 " About your husband ? Perhaps he got drunk and went off 
 to sleep." 
 
 As soon as Milena was dressed she wanted to go off, but 
 Mara would not allow her. 
 
 " First, your husband said he'd come and fetch you, so you 
 must stay with us till he comes; then, remember you promised 
 to help me with my embroidery, so I can't let 3'ou go." 
 
 " No, I'm too anxious about Radonic. You know, he's so 
 hasty." 
 
 " Yes, he's a brute, I know." 
 
 " Besides, I can't get the bard's words out of my head." 
 
 " In fact, poor thing, you are looking quite ill. Anyhow, 
 I'll not allow you to go alone, so you must wait till I've put 
 the house in order, and then I'll go with 3'ou." 
 
 As soon as breakfast was over, and Bellacic was out of the 
 house, Mara got ready. She little knew that, though Milena 
 was anxious to find out the dreadful truth of that night's 
 mystery, she was in her heart very loth to return home. 
 
 Just as Mara was near the door, she, like all women, forgot 
 something and had to go in, for — what she called — a minute. 
 Milena stepped out alone. First, as she pushed the door 
 open, the hinges gave a most unpleasant grating sound. She 
 shivered, for this was a ver}^ bad omen. Then a cat mewed. 
 Milena crossed herself. And, as if all this were not enough, 
 round the corner came an old lame hag whom she knew. 
 The old woman stopped. 
 
 " What, gospa! is it you ? and where are you going so early 
 in the morning ? " 
 
 Milena shuddered, and her teeth chattered in such a way
 
 I50 POBRA TIM 
 
 that she could hardly answer her. It was very bad to meet 
 an old woman in the morning ; worse still, a lame old woman ; 
 worst of all, to be asked where you are going. 
 
 The best thing on such a day would be to go back in-doors, 
 and do nothing at all ; for everything undertaken would go all 
 wrong. 
 
 The old woman's curiosity having been satisfied, she hobbled 
 away, and soon disappeared, leaving Milena more dejected and 
 forlorn even than she had been before. 
 
 Mara came out, and found her ghastly pale; she tried to 
 laugh the matter over, though she, too, felt that it was really 
 no laughing matter. Weary and worn, poor Milena dragged 
 herself homewards, but her knees seemed as if they were 
 broken, and her limbs almost refused to carry her. 
 
 Soon they came in sight of the house ; all the windows and 
 the doors were shut — evidently Radonic was not at home. 
 
 " I wonder where he is," said Milena to her friend. 
 
 " Probably he has gone to our house to look for you. If you 
 had only waited a little I Now he'll say that we wanted to get 
 rid of you." 
 
 At last they were at the door. 
 
 " And now," said Mara, " probably the house is locked, and 
 you'll have to come back with me." Then, all at once inter- 
 rupting herself: "Oh! how my left ear is ringing, someone 
 is speaking about me ; can you guess who it is, Milena ? Yes, 
 I think I can hear my son's voice," and the fond mother's 
 handsome face beamed with pleasure. 
 
 She had hardly uttered these words, when they heard some- 
 one call out : 
 
 " Gospa Mara ! gospa Mara ! " 
 
 Then turning round, they saw a youth running up to them. 
 
 " What ! is it you, Todor Teodorovic ? and when did you 
 come back ? " quoth Mara. 
 
 " We came back last evening." 
 
 " Perhaps you met the Spcra in Dio on your voyage ? " 
 
 " Yes, we met the brig at Zara, but as she had somewhat 
 suffered from the storm, she was obliged to go to Nona for 
 repairs, as all the building yards of Zara were busy." 
 
 Thereupon, he began to expatiate very learnedly about the 
 nature of the damage the ship had suffered, but Mara inter- 
 rupted him — 
 
 " And how was Uros ? did you see him ? "
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 I'^i 
 
 " Oh, yes ! he was quite well." 
 
 Then he began to tell Mara all about the lives Uros and 
 Milenko had saved, and how gallantly they had endangered 
 their own. " But," added he, " our captain has a letter for 
 you, gospa.'" 
 
 " There, I told you I'd have a letter to-day ; I had dreamt 
 of doves, and when I see doves or horses in my sleep, I always 
 get some news the day afterwards," said Mara, turning to her 
 friend, but Milena had disappeared. 
 
 Todor Teodorovic having found a willing listener, an occur- 
 rence which happened but very seldom with him, began to 
 tell Mara all about the repairs the Spera in Dio would have to 
 undergo, and also how long they would stay at Nona, their 
 approximate cost, and so forth, and Mara listened because 
 anything that related to her son was interesting to her. 
 
 Milena had stood for a few moments on the doorstep, but 
 when she heard that Uros was quite well, she slipped unper- 
 ceived into the house. She felt so oppressed as she went in 
 that she almost fancied she was going to meet her death. 
 
 Was it for the last time she went into that house ? Would 
 she ever come out of it again ? 
 
 Her hand was on the latch, she pressed it down ; it yielded, 
 the door opened. Perhaps Radonic had come home late, 
 drunk, and he was there now sleeping himself sober. If this 
 were the case, she would have a bad day of it ; he was always 
 so fretful and peevish on the day that followed a drinking 
 bout. 
 
 How dark the room was ; all the shutters were tightly shut, 
 and dazzled as she was by the broad daylight, she could not 
 see the slightest thing in that dark room. 
 
 Her heart was beating so loud that she fancied it was going 
 to burst ; she panted for breath, she shrank within herself, 
 appalled as she was by that overpowering darkness. She 
 dreaded to stretch out her hand and grope about, for it seemed 
 to her as if she would be seized by some invisible foe, lying 
 there in wait for her. 
 
 Just then, as she was staring in front of her, with widelj-- 
 opened eyes, the kabanica, as she had seen it the evening 
 before, rose slowly, gravely, silently, from the floor, and stood 
 upright before her. 
 
 That gloomy ghost of a garment detached itself from the 
 surrounding darkness and glided up to her, bending forward
 
 jyz POBRATIM 
 
 with outstretched arms. No face was to be seen, for the head 
 was quite concealed by the hood. And yet she fancied Vranic's 
 livid face must be there, near her. 
 
 She almost crouched down, oppressed by that ghostly gar- 
 ment ; she shrank back with terror, and yet she knew that the 
 phantom in front of her only existed in her morbid imagination. 
 To nerve herself to courage, she turned round to cast a 
 glance at Uros' mother, and convince herself that she was 
 still there, within reach at a few steps ; then, with averted 
 head, she went in. 
 
 She turned round ; the phantom of the kabanica had dis- 
 appeared. She was by the hearth. What was she to do now ? 
 First, open the shutters and have some light. She turned 
 towards the right. 
 
 All at once she stumbled on the very spot where, the evening 
 before, she had caught and entangled her foot in the great- 
 coat. A man was lying there now, apparently dead. She 
 uttered a piercing cry as she fell on a cold, lifeless body. 
 Then, as she fell, she fainted. 
 
 Mara and Todor, hearing the cry, rushed into the house. 
 They opened the shutters, and then they saw Milena lying on 
 the floor, all of a heap, upon an outstretched body. They lifted 
 her up and laid her on the bed ; then they went to examine 
 the man, who was extended at full length by the hearth, 
 wrapped up in his huge great-coat. 
 
 " There is no blood about him," said Todor; "he, therefore, 
 must be drunk, and asleep." 
 
 Still, when they touched his limbs, they found that they were 
 stiff and stark, anchylosed by the rigid sleep of death. 
 
 Mara pushed back the hood of the kabanica, and then she 
 saw a sight which she never forgot the whole of her Ufe. 
 
 She saw Vranic's face staring at her in the most horrible 
 contortions of overpowering pain. His distorted mouth was 
 widely open, like a huge black hole ; out of it, his slim}-, bloody, 
 dark tongue protruded — dreadful to behold. His nostrils were 
 fiercely dilated. Still, worst of all, his eyes, with their ugly 
 cast, started — squinting, glazed and bloodshot — out of their 
 sockets. The hair of his face and of his head was bristling 
 frightfully ; his ghastly complexion was blotched with livid 
 spots. It was. indeed, a gruesome sight, especially seen so 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 All around his neck he bore the traces of strangulation, for
 
 POBRATIM 153 
 
 Radonic, who had promised not to use a knife, had been true 
 to his word. 
 
 Mara, shuddering, made the sign of the Cross. She pulled 
 the hood of the coat over the corpse's face, and then went to 
 nurse Milena ; whilst Todor Teodorovic, who had, at last, found 
 a topic of conversation worth being listened to, went out to call 
 for help.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE HAVDUK 
 
 On the morning of the murder Vranic accompanied Radonic 
 out of the town. He had told Milena he would do so. On 
 reaching the gate fronting the open country and the dark moun- 
 tains, Radonic stopped, and wished his friend Good-bye. The 
 seer insisted upon walking a little way out of town with him. 
 
 " No, thank you ; go back. The weather is threatening, and 
 we'll soon have rain." 
 
 " Well, what does it matter ? If you don't melt, no more 
 shall I," and he laughed at his would-be witticism. 
 
 "The roads are bad, and you are no great walker." 
 
 Vranic, however, insisted. 
 
 Thus they went on together, through vineyards and olive - 
 groves, until they got in sight of the white-walled convent. 
 There Radonic tried once more to get rid of his friend. At 
 last they reached the foot of the rocky mountain, usually 
 fragrant with sage and thyme. Having got to the flinty, 
 winding path leading to the fort of Kosmac : 
 
 " Now," said Radonic, " you must positively come no 
 farther." 
 
 The road was uneven and very steep. Vranic yielded. 
 
 " Go back, and take care of Milena." 
 
 " Well, I do not say it as a boast, but you could not leave 
 her in better hands." 
 
 " She is young, and, like all women — well, she has long hair 
 and short brains. Look after her." 
 
 " Vranic has his eyes open, and will keep good watch." 
 
 " I know I can rely on you. Have we not always been 
 friends, we two ? That is why, whenever I left my home, I 
 did so with a light heart." 
 
 " Your honour is as dear to me as if it were my own." 
 
 "It is only in times of need that we really appreciate the 
 advantage of having a friend. The proverb is right : ' Let thy 
 trusted friend be as a brother to you ' ; and a friend to whom
 
 POBRATIM 155 
 
 we can entrust our wife, is even more than a brother. I there- 
 fore hope to be able to repay you soon for your kindness." 
 
 " Don't mention it. It has been a pleasure for me to be of 
 use to you ; for, as honey attracts flies, a handsome young 
 woman collects men around her. So there must always be 
 someone to ward off indiscreet admirers. Moreover, as you 
 know, they say I am a seer, and they are afraid of me." 
 
 At last they kissed and parted ; the one walking quickly 
 townwards, almost light-hearted, especially after the load of 
 his friend's company, the other trudging heavily upwards. 
 
 After a few steps, Radonic climbed a high rock, and sat down 
 to watch Vranic retracing his steps townwards. When he had 
 seen him disappear, he at last rose and quietly followed him for 
 a while. A quarter of an hour afterwards he was knocking at 
 the gate of the white-walled convent. The monks, who are 
 always fond of any break in their monotonous life, received him 
 almost with deference — a sea captain, who had been all over 
 the world, was always a welcome guest. After taking snuff 
 with all of them, and chatting about politics, the crops and the 
 scandal of the town, Radonic asked to be confessed ; then he 
 gave alms, was absolved of his peccadilloes, and finally took 
 the Eucharist — a spoonful of bread soaked in wine — although 
 he prided himself on being something of a sceptic. Still, he felt 
 comforted thereby ; he had blotted out all past sins and could 
 now begin a new score. Religion, they say, in all its forms 
 always tends to make man happy — aye, and better I 
 
 In this merry frame of mind he sat down to dinner with 
 the jolly brotherhood, and after a copious but plain meal, he, 
 according to the custom of this holy house, retired to one of 
 the cells appointed to strangers, to have a nap. No sooner 
 was he alone than he undid his bundle, took out a razor and 
 shaved off all the hair of his cheeks and chin, leaving only a 
 long pair of thick moustaches, which he curled upwards 
 according to the fierce fashion of the Kotor. This done, he 
 took off his soiled, ugly, badly-fitting European clothes and put 
 on the dress of the country — one of the finest and manliest 
 devised by man ; so that, although not good-looking, he was 
 handsome to what he had just been. 
 
 The monks, on seeing him come out, did not recognise him, 
 and could not understand from whence he had sprung. Then 
 they were more than astonished when they found out the 
 reason for this transformation, for he told them that it was
 
 156 POBRATIM 
 
 to surprise his wife, or rather, the moths attracted by her 
 sparlding eyes. 
 
 "I thought I should never put on again the clothes of my 
 youth, but fate, it appears, has decreed otherwise." 
 
 " Man is made of dust, and to dust he returneth. Sooner 
 or later we have to become again what we once were. You 
 know the story of the mouse, don't you ? " 
 
 " No ; or at least I don't think I do." 
 
 "Then listen, and I'll tell it you." 
 
 A great many years ago, in the times of Christ and His 
 disciples, there lived somewhere in Asia a very good man, 
 who had left off worshipping idols and had become a Christian. 
 
 Finding soon afterwards that it was impossible for him to 
 dwell any more with his own people — who scoffed at his new 
 creed, rated him for wishing to be better than they were, 
 mocked him when he prayed, and played all kinds of tricks 
 on him when he fasted — he sold his birthright and divided 
 all his money amongst the poor, the blind and the cripples of 
 his native town. Then he bade farewell to all his friends and 
 relations, and with the Holy Scriptures in one hand, and a 
 staff in the other, he went out of the town gate and walked 
 into the wilderness. 
 
 He wandered for many days until he arrived on top of a 
 steep, treeless, wind-blown hill, and, almost on the summit, 
 he found a small cave, the ground of which was strewn with 
 fine white sand, as soft to the feet as a velvet carpet. On one 
 side of this grotto there was a fountain of icy cold water, and 
 on the other, hewn in the rock as if by the hand of man, a 
 kind of long niche, which looked as if it had been made on 
 purpose for a bed. The Christian, who had decided to be- 
 come a hermit, saw in this cave a sign of God's will and 
 favour ; therefore, he stopped there. For some time he lived 
 on the roots of plants, berries and wild fruit, that grew at the 
 foot of the hill ; then he cultivated a patch of ground, and so 
 he passed his time, praying, reading his holy Book, meditating 
 over it, or tilling his bit of glebe. 
 
 Years and years passed — who knows how many ? — and he 
 had become an old man, with a long white beard reaching 
 down to his knees, a brown, sun-burnt skin, and a face fur- 
 rowed with wrinkles. Since the day he had left his country, 
 he had never again seen a man, a woman or a child, nor, in-
 
 POBRATIM 157 
 
 deed, any other animal, except a few birds that flew over his 
 head, or some small snakes that glided amongst the stones. 
 So one evening, after he had said his lengthy prayers and 
 committed his soul to God, he went to lie down on his couch 
 of leaves and moss ; but he could not sleep. He, for the first 
 time, felt lonely, and, as it were, home-sick. He knew he 
 would never behold again the face of any man, so he almost 
 wished he had, at least, some tiny living creature to cherish. 
 Sleep at last closed his eyes. In the morning, on awaking, 
 he saw a little mouse frisking in the sand of his cave. The 
 old hermit looked astonished at the pretty little thing, and he 
 durst not move, but remained as quiet as a mouse, for fear the 
 mouse would run away. 
 
 The animal, however, caught sight of him, and stood stock- 
 still on its hind legs, looking at him. Thus they both remained 
 for some seconds, staring at each other. Then the hermit 
 understood at last that God, in His goodness, had heard his 
 wish, and had sent him this little mouse to comfort him, and 
 be a companion to him in his old age. And so it was. 
 
 Days, months, years passed, and the mouse never left the 
 hermit, not even for a single instant ; and the godly man grew 
 always fonder of this friendly little beast. He played with it, 
 patted it, and called it pet names ; and at night, when he crept 
 into his niche to sleep, he took the mouse with him. 
 
 One night, as he pressed the little animal to his breast, he 
 felt his heart overflow with love for it, and in his unutterable 
 fondness he begged the Almighty to change this dear little 
 mouse into a girl ; and lo, and behold ! God granted his prayer, 
 for, of course, he was a saintly man. The hermit pressed the 
 girl to his heart, and then fell upon his knees and thanked the 
 All- Merciful for His great goodness. 
 
 The girl grew up a beautiful maiden — tall, slender, and most 
 graceful in her movements, with a soft skin, and twinkling, 
 almost mischievous eyes. 
 
 Years passed. The hermit now had grown to be a very old 
 man ; and in his last years his spirit was troubled, and his 
 heart was full of care. He knew that he had passed the time 
 allotted to man here below, and he was loth to think that he 
 would have to die and leave his daughter alone in the wilder- 
 ness. Besides, she had reached marriageable age; and if it 
 is no easy matter for a match-making mother to marry her 
 daughter in a populous town, it was a difficult task to find a
 
 158 POBRATIM 
 
 husband for her in that desert. Moreover, he did not exactly 
 know how to broach the subject of matrimonj' to a girl who 
 was so very ingenuous, and who thought that all the world was 
 limited to the cave and the hill on which she lived. Still, he 
 did not shrink from this duty ; and, therefore, he told her what 
 he had read in scientific books about the conjunctions of 
 planets in the sk)^ Then he quoted the Scriptures, and said 
 that it was not good for man to be alone, nor for woman either ; 
 that even widows should marry, if they cannot live in the holy 
 state of celibacy. 
 
 The poor girl did not quite fathom all the depths of his 
 speech, but said she would be guided by his wisdom. 
 
 '' Very well," said the anchorite, " I shall soon find you a 
 husband worthy of you." 
 
 " But," said the girl, ingenuously, " why do you not marry 
 me yourself ? " 
 
 " / marry you ? First, my dear, I am a hermit, and hermits 
 never marry, for if thej' did, they might have a family, then — 
 you understand — they wouldn't be hermits any more, would 
 they ? " 
 
 " But they needn't have a family, need they ? " 
 
 " Well, perhaps not ; besides, I can't marry you, because— — " 
 
 " Because ? " 
 
 " I," stammered the anchorite, blushing, " I'm too old." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " echoed the maid sighing ; " it's a fact, you are 
 very old." 
 
 That night, after the hermit and his adopted daughter had 
 said their prayers, she, who was very sleepy, went off to bed, 
 whilst he, who was as perplexed as any father having a 
 dowerless daughter, went out of his cavern to meditate. 
 
 The full moon had just risen above the verge of the horizon, 
 and her soft light silvered the sand of the desert, and made it 
 look like newly fallen snow. 
 
 The old man stood on top of the hill, and stretching forth 
 his arms to the Moon : 
 
 " Oh ! thou mightiest of God's works, lovely Moon, take pity 
 upon a perplexed father, and listen to my prayer. I have one 
 fair daughter that has now reached marriageable age ; she is of 
 radiant beauty, and well versed in all the mysteries of our holy 
 religion. Marry my daughter, O Moon ! " 
 
 *' Now," said Radonic, interrupting, " that's foolish ; how 
 could the old hermit expect the Moon to marry his daughter ? "
 
 POBRATIM 159 
 
 " First, this is a parable, like one of those our blessed 
 Saviour used to tell the people ; therefore, being a parable, it's 
 Gospel, and you must believe it as a true story, for it is the life 
 of one of the holy Fathers of the Church." 
 
 " I see," quoth Radonic, although he did not see quite 
 clearly. 
 
 Then the Moon replied : 
 
 " You are mistaken, old man ; I am not the mightiest of God's 
 creation. The Sun, whose light I reflect, is the greatest of the 
 Omnipotent's works ; ask the Sun to be a husband to thy 
 daughter." 
 
 The hermit sank on his knees and uttered lengthy prayers, 
 till the light of the Moon grew pale and vanished, and the sky 
 got to be of a saffron tint ; soon afterwards, the first rays of 
 the Sun flooded the desert, and transmuted the sandy plain 
 into one mass of glittering gold. When the old man saw the 
 effulgent disc of the Sun, he stretched out his arms and apos- 
 trophised this planet as he had done the Moon. Then he 
 rubbed his hands and thought : 
 
 " Well, if I only get the Sun for my son-in-law I'm a lucky 
 man." 
 
 But the Morning Sun told the hermit that he was mis- 
 taken : 
 
 •' I'm not the mightiest of the Creator's works," quoth the 
 Sun. " You see yon cloudlet yonder. Well, soon that little 
 weasel will get to be as big as a camel, then as a whale, then 
 it'll spread all over the sky and will hide my face from the 
 earth I love so well. That Cloud is mightier than I am." 
 
 Then the hermit waited on top of the hill until he saw the 
 Cloud expand itself in the most fantastic shapes, and when it 
 had covered up the face of the Morning Sun, the hermit 
 stretched out his hands and offered to it his daughter in 
 marriage. The Cloud, however, answered just as the Moon 
 and the Sun had done, and it proposed the Simoon as a suitor 
 to his daughter. 
 
 •' Wait a bit," said the Cloud, " and you will see the might 
 of the Simoon, that, howling, rises and not only drives us 
 whithersoever he will, but scatters us in the four corners of 
 the Earth." 
 
 No sooner had the Cloud done speaking than the Wind 
 arose, lifting up clouds of dust from the earth. It seemed to 
 cast the sand upwards in the face of the sky, and against the
 
 i6o POBRA TIM 
 
 clouds ; and the waters above dropped down in big tears, or 
 fled from the wrath of the Wind. 
 
 Then the hermit stretched his hands towards the Simoon, 
 and begged him, as the mightiest of tlie Creator's works, to 
 marry his daughter. 
 
 But the Wind, howling, told him to turn his eyes towards a 
 high mountain, the snowy summit of which was faintly seen far 
 off in the distance. " That Mountain," said he, " is mightier 
 by far than myself." 
 
 The hermit then went into the cavern and told his daughter 
 that, as it was impossible to find a suitor for her in the desert, 
 he was going on a journey, from which he would only return on 
 the morrow. 
 
 " And will you bring me a husband wlien you come back ? " 
 she asked, merrily. 
 
 " I trust so, with God's grace," quoth the Hermit, "and one 
 well worthy of you, my beloved daughter." 
 
 Then the hermit girded his loins, took up his staff, and jour- 
 neyed in the direction of the setting sun. Having reached the 
 foot of the Mountain when the gloaming tinged its flanks in 
 blood, he stretched out his arms up to the summit of the 
 Mount and begged it to marry his daughter. 
 
 " Alas," answered the Mountain, mournfully, " you are much 
 mistaken. I am by no means the mightiest of God's works. 
 A Rat that has burrowed a big hole at my feet is mightier by 
 far than I am, for he nibbles and bites me and burrows in my 
 bowels, and I can do nothing against it. Ask the Rat to marry 
 thy daughter, for he is mightier by far than I am." 
 
 The hermit, after much ado, found out the Rat's hole, and 
 likewise the Rat, who — like himself — was a hermit. 
 
 " Oh, mightiest of God's mighty works I I have one daughter, 
 passing fair, highly accomplished, and well versed in sacred 
 lore ; wilt thou — unless thou art already married — take this 
 rare maiden as thy lawful wedded wife ? " 
 
 " Hitherto, I have never contemplated marriage," retorted 
 the Rat, " for ' sufficient to the day are the evils thereof ; still, 
 where is your daughter ? " 
 
 " She is at home, in the wilderness." 
 
 " Well, you can't expect me to marry a cat in a bag, can 
 you ? " he answered, squeaking snappishl3^ 
 
 " Oh, certainly not I " replied the anchorite, humbly ; " still, 
 that she is fair, you have my word on it ; and I was a judge of
 
 POBRATIM i6i 
 
 beauty in past times " — thereupon he stopped, and humbly 
 crossed himself — "that she is wise — well, she is my daughter." 
 
 " Pooh I " said the Rat; " every father thinks his child the 
 fairest one on earth ; you know the story of the owl, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I do," retorted the hermit, hastily. 
 
 " Then you wouldn't like me to tell it you, would you ? " 
 
 "No, not I." 
 
 " Well, then, what about your daughter ? " 
 
 " I'll take you to see her, if you like." 
 
 " Is it far ? " 
 
 " A good day's walk." 
 
 " H'm, I don't think it's worth while going so far. Could you 
 not bring her here for me to see her ? " 
 
 "Oh I it's against etiquette. But if you like, I'll carry you 
 to her." 
 
 " All right, it's a bargain." 
 
 At nightfall they set out on their journey, and they got to the 
 cave early on the following day. 
 
 The young girl, seeing the hermit, ran down the hill to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Well, father," said she, with glistening eyes, flushed cheeks, 
 parted lips, and panting breast, " and my husband, where is my 
 husband ? " 
 
 " Here," said the anchorite ; and he took the Rat out of his 
 wallet. " Here he is ; allow me to introduce to you a husband 
 mightier than the Moon, more powerful than the Sun, stronger 
 than the Clouds, more vahant than the Simoon, greater than 
 the high Mountain ; in fact, a husband well worthy of you, my 
 daughter." 
 
 The eyes of the young girl opened wider and wider in mute 
 astonishment. 
 
 " He's a fine specimen of his kind, isn't he ? " 
 
 " I daresay he is," said she, surveying him with the eye 
 of a connoisseur ; " and cooked in honey, he'd be a dainty 
 bit." 
 
 " And he's a hermit, into the bargain." 
 
 " But," added the girl, ruefully, " if you intended me to 
 marry a rat, was it not quite useless to have turned me into 
 a woman ? " 
 
 The hermit stroked his beard, pensively, for a while, and 
 was apparently lost in deep meditation. 
 
 II
 
 1 62 POBRATIM 
 
 " My daughter," replied he, after a lengthy pause, " your 
 words are Gospel ; I have never thought of all this till now ; 
 you see clearly that ' the ways of Providence are not our 
 ways.' " 
 
 Thereupon, the old man fell on his knees, for he felt himself 
 rebuked ; he prayed long and earnestly that his daughter might 
 once more be changed into a mouse. And, lo and behold ! his 
 prayer was granted ; nay, before he had got up from his knees 
 and looked around, the girl had dwindled into her former 
 shape, evidently well pleased with the change. 
 
 Anyhow, the anchorite was comforted in his loneliness, for 
 he had always meant well towards her ; moreover, he felt 
 sure that if the newly-married couple ever had children, the 
 little mice would be so well brought up, that they would 
 scrupulously refrain from eating lard on fast days. 
 
 Then the hermit, tired with his journey, went and lay down 
 on his bed of moss, dropped off to sleep, and never woke again 
 on earth. 
 
 At dusk, Radonic took leave of the learned and hospitable 
 kaludgeri, and went back to town. He reached the gate when 
 the shadows of the night had already fallen upon the earth. 
 Although he fancied that everyone he met stared at him, 
 still many of his acquaintances passed close by him without 
 recognising him. 
 
 At last he crossed the whole of the town and got to his 
 house. The door being slightly ajar, he thought Milena must 
 be at home. He glided in on tiptoe, his opanke hardly making 
 the slightest noise on the stone floor. There was no fire on the 
 hearth, no light to be seen anywhere. Milena was not in the 
 front room, nor in any of the others. Where could she have 
 gone, and left the front door open ? Surely she would be back 
 in a few moments ? He crouched in a corner and waited, but 
 Milena did not make her appearance. 
 
 As it was quite dark, he groped to the cupboard, found the 
 loaf, cut himself a slice, then managed to lay his hand on the 
 cheese. As he ate, he almost felt like a burglar in his own 
 house. The darkness really unnerved him, and yet he was 
 inured to watch in the night on board his ship ; now, how- 
 ever, the hand of Time seemed to have stopped. 
 
 The bread was more than tough, the cheese was dry ; so 
 he could hardly manage to gulp the morsels down. Unable to
 
 POBRATIM 163 
 
 find the bukava, he went into the cellar and took a long 
 draught of heady wine. 
 
 Returning upstairs, he again crouched in a corner. Milena 
 had not come back ; evidently, she had gone to Mara's, as 
 he had told her to. Sitting there in the darkness, watching 
 and waiting, with the purpose of blood on his mind, time 
 hung wearily upon him. The wine had somewhat cheered 
 him, but now drowsiness overpowered him. To keep himself 
 from falling asleep, he tried to think. Though he was not 
 gifted with a glowing imagination, still his mind was full of 
 fancies, and one vision succeeded another in his overheated 
 brain. His past life now began to flit before his eyes like 
 scenes in a peep-show. A succession of ghosts arose from 
 amidst the darkness and threatened him. One amongst them 
 made him shudder. It was that of a beautiful young woman 
 of eighteen summers standing on the seashore, waiting for a 
 sail. 
 
 Many years ago, when he was only a simple sailor, he had 
 been wrecked on the coasts of Sicily. A poor widow had 
 given him shelter, and in return for her kindness, what had he 
 done ? This woman had three daughters ; the eldest was a 
 beautiful girl of eighteen, the other two were mere children. 
 For months these poor creatures toiled for him and fed him. 
 Then he married the girl under a false name with the papers 
 belonging to one of the drowned sailors. Although he had 
 married her against his will — for she was a Catholic and did 
 not belong to the Orthodox faith — still he intended doing 
 what was right — bring her to his country, and re-marry her 
 according to the rites of his own Church. But time passed ; 
 so he confessed, gave alms to the convent, obtained the abso- 
 lution, and was almost at peace with himself. Probably, she 
 had come to the conclusion that he had been swallowed up 
 by the hungry waves, and she had married a man of her own 
 country ; so his child had a father. Still, since his marriage, 
 the vision of that woman often haunted him. 
 
 Anyhow, he added bitterly to himself, although a Catholic, 
 she had loved him. Milena, a true believer, had never 
 cared for him. And now he remembered the first time he 
 had seen Milena ; how smitten he had been by her beauty, 
 how her large eyes had flashed upon him with a dark and 
 haughty look. She had disliked him from the first, but what 
 had he cared when he had got her father into his hands ? for 
 
 II — 2
 
 i64 POBRA TIM 
 
 when the proud Montenegi-in owed him a sum which he could 
 not pay at once, he had asked him for the hand of his daughter. 
 
 Instead of tning to win her love, he had ill-treated her from 
 the very beginning ; then, seeing that nothing could daunt her, 
 he had often feared lest he should find his house empty on 
 returning home. 
 
 All at once the thought struck him that now she had run 
 away with Vranic. She had, perhaps, confided the whole truth 
 to him, and they had escaped together. He ground his teeth 
 with rage at that thought. 
 
 No, such a thing could not be, for she hated Vranic. 
 
 " Aye, it is true she hates him. but does she not hate me as 
 much?" he said to himself; "fool that I was not to have 
 thought of this before. Vranic is not handsome ; no one can 
 abide him. Still, he clings to women in a way that it is almost 
 impossible to get rid of him. Anyhow, if they have gone awa^• 
 together, I swear by the blessed Virgin, by St. Nicholas, and by 
 St. C}Til and Method that I shall overtake them; nay," said he, 
 with a fearful oath, " even if they have taken refuge in God's 
 own stomach, I shall go and drag them out and take vengeance 
 on them, as a true Slav that I am. Still, in the meantime, they 
 have, perhaps, fooled me, and I am here waiting for them." 
 And, in his rage, he struck his head against the wall. 
 
 " Trust a woman ! " thought Radonic ; " they are as skittish as 
 cats, slippery as eels, as false as sleeping waters. Wh}-, my 
 own mother cheated me of many a penny, onlj- for the pleasure 
 of hoarding them, and then leaving them to me after her death. 
 Trust a woman as far as you can see her, but no farther," and 
 then he added : " Yes, and trust thy friend, which is like going 
 to pat a rabid dog. — What o'clock is it ? " he asked himself. 
 
 He was always accustomed to tell the time of the day to a 
 minute, without needing a watch, but now he had lost his 
 reckoning. 
 
 It was about six o'clock when he came back home ; was it 
 nine or ten now ? 
 
 He durst not strike a light, for fear of being seen from with- 
 out and spoiling his little game. He waited a little more. 
 
 The threatening shadows of the past gathered once more 
 around him. 
 
 All at once he heard some words whispered audibly. It was 
 the curse of the boy he had crippled for life. He shuddered 
 with fear. In his auto-suggestion he, for a moment, actually
 
 POBRA TIM 165 
 
 fancied he had heard those words. Then he shrugged his 
 shoulders, and tried to think of pleasanter subjects. 
 
 A curse is but a few idle words ; still, since that time, not a 
 decent seaman had ever sailed with him. 
 
 He could not bear the oppressive darkness any longer ; 
 peopled as it was with shadows, it weighed upon him. He 
 went into the inner room, lit a match, looked at his watch. 
 
 It was not yet nine o'clock. Time that evening was creeping 
 on at a sluggish pace. 
 
 " Surely," he soliloquised, " if Vranic is coming he cannot 
 delay much longer." After a few seconds he put out the light 
 and returned to the front room. 
 
 Soon afterwards, he heard a bell strike slowly nine o'clock in 
 the distance ; then all was silence. The house was perfectly 
 still and quiet, and yet, every now and then, in the room in 
 which he was sitting, he could hear slight, unexplainable noises, 
 like the soft trailing of garments, or the shuffling of naked feet 
 upon the stone floor ; stools sometimes would creak, just as 
 if someone had sat upon them ; then small objects seemed 
 stealthily handled by invisible fingers. 
 
 He tried to think of his business, always an engrossing 
 subject, not to be overcome by his superstitious fears. He 
 had been a shrewd man, he had mortgaged his house for its 
 full value to Vranic himself to buy the mythical cargo. Now 
 that all his wealth was in bank-notes, or in bright and big 
 Maria Theresa dollars, he was free to go whithersoever he 
 chose. 
 
 Still, it was vexing to think that if he killed that viper of a 
 Vranic, as he was in duty bound to do, he would have to flee 
 from his native town, and escape to the mountains, at least 
 till affairs were settled. It was a pity, for now the insurance 
 society would make a rich man of him, so he might have 
 remained comfortably smoking his pipe at home, and enjoying 
 the fruits of many years' hard labour. 
 
 A quarter-past nine ! 
 
 He began to wonder whether Milena — not seeing him come 
 to fetch her — would return home. Surely more than one young 
 man would offer to see her to her house. This thought made 
 him gnash his teeth with rage. 
 
 When once the venom of jealousy has found its way within 
 the heart of man, it rankles there, and, little by little, poisons 
 his whole blood.
 
 1 66 POBRATIM 
 
 And again he thought: "That affair of Uros and Milenko 
 has never been quite clear ; Vranic was false, there was no 
 doubt about it ; still, it was not he who had invented the whole 
 story. Had he not been the laughing-stock of all his friends ? " 
 
 Half-past nine ! 
 
 How very slowly the hours passed ! If he could only do 
 something to while away the time — pace up and down the 
 room, as he used to do on board, and smoke a cigarette ; 
 but that was out of the question. 
 
 Hush ! was there not a noise somewhere ? It must have 
 been outside ; and still it seemed to him as if it were in the 
 house itself. Was it a mouse, or some stray cat that had 
 come in unperceived ? No ; it was a continuous noise, like 
 the trailing of some huge snake on the dry grass, 
 
 A quarter to ten ! 
 
 Silence once more. Now, almost all the town is fast asleep. 
 He would wait a little longer, and then ? Well, if Vranic did 
 not come soon, he would not come at all, so it would be useless 
 waiting. He wrapped himself up in his great-coat, for the night 
 was chilly, and had it not been for the thought that Milena had 
 fled with Vranic, sleepiness would have overcome him. 
 
 He thoughtlessly began making a cigarette, out of mere 
 habit, just to do something. It was provoking not to smoke 
 just when a few puffs would be such a comfort. 
 
 Now he again hears the chimes at a distance ; the deep- 
 toned bell rings the four quarters slowly ; the vibrations of 
 one stroke have hardly passed away when the quiet air is 
 startled by another stroke. How much louder and graver 
 those musical notes sound in the hushed stillness of the night ! 
 
 Ten o'clock ! 
 
 Some towns — Venice, for instance — were all life and bustle 
 at that hour of the night ; the streets and squares all thronged 
 with masks and merry revellers ; the theatres, coffee-houses, 
 dancing - rooms, were blazing with light, teeming with life, 
 echoing with music and merriment. Budua is, instead, as 
 dark, as lonesome, and as silent as a city of the dead. The 
 whole town is now fast asleep. 
 
 " It is useless to wait any longer," mutters Radonic to him- 
 self ; " nobody is coming." 
 
 The thought that his wife had fled with Vranic has almost 
 become a certainty. Jealousy is torturing him. He feels like 
 gripping his throat and choking himself, or dashing his head to
 
 POBRA TIM 167 
 
 pieces against the stone wall. If his house had been in town, 
 near the others, Vranic might have waited till after ten o'clock ; 
 but, situated where it was, no prying neighbours were to be 
 feared. Something had, perhaps, detained him. Still, what 
 can detain a man when he has such an object in \'iew ? 
 
 Muttering an oath between his teeth, Radonic stood up. 
 
 " Hush I What was that ? " He listened. 
 
 Nothing, or only one of the many unexplainable noises heard 
 in the stillness of the night. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, Vranic had been on the watch the whole 
 day, and then he had seen him return. Perhaps — though he 
 had never believed in his friend's gift of second sight — Vranic 
 was indeed a seer, and could read within the minds of men. 
 Perhaps, having still some doubts, he would only come on the 
 morrow. Anyhow, he would go to bed and abide his time. He 
 stretched his anchylosed limbs and yawned. 
 
 Now he was certain he heard a noise outside. 
 
 He stood still. It was like the sound of steps at a distance. 
 He listened again. This time he was not mistaken, though, 
 indeed, it was a very low sound. Stealthy steps on the shingle. 
 He went on tiptoe to the door. The sound of the steps was 
 more distinct at every pace. Moreover, every now and then, 
 a stone would turn, or creak, or strike against another, and 
 thus betray the muffled sound of the person who walked. 
 
 Radonic listened breathlessly. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, it was only Milena coming back home. 
 He peeped out, but he could not see anything. Was his 
 hearing quicker than his sight ? 
 
 He strained his eyes and then he saw a dark shadow moving 
 among the bushes, but even then he could only distinguish it 
 because his eyes were rendered keener by following the direc- 
 tion pointed out by his ears. 
 
 Was it Vranic, he asked himself. 
 
 Aye, surely ; who else could it be but Vranic ? 
 
 Still, what was he afraid of? No human eye could see him, 
 no ear detect his steps. 
 
 Are we not all afraid of the crime we are about to commit ? 
 There is in felony a ghastly shadow that either precedes or 
 follows us. It frightens even the most fearless man. 
 
 Slowly the shadow emerged from within the darkness of the 
 bushes and came up towards the house. It was Vranic's 
 figure, his shuffling gait.
 
 i68 POBRATIM 
 
 Radonic's breast was like unto a glowing furnace, the blood 
 within his heart was bubbling like molten metal within a 
 crucible. 
 
 In a moment, that man — who was coming to seduce his wife 
 and dishonour him — would be within his clutches. 
 
 Then he would break every bone within his body. He 
 seemed to hear the shivering they made as he shattered them 
 into splinters, and he shuddered. 
 
 For a moment, the atrocity of the crime he was about to 
 commit, daunted him. 
 
 Still, almost at the same time, he asked himself whether he 
 were going to turn coward at the last moment. 
 
 - Was he not doing an act of equity ? How heinously had not 
 this fiend dealt by him ! He had put him up against his wife, 
 until, baited, she was almost driven to adultery. No, the justice 
 of God and man would absolve him ; if not — well, he had rather 
 be hanged, and put his soul in jeopardy, than forego his ven- 
 geance. He was a Slav. 
 
 All these thoughts flitted through his brain in an instant, like 
 flashes of lightning following one another on a stormy night. 
 
 Radonic watched the approaching shadow, from the cranny 
 of the door ajar, with a beating heart. 
 
 Before Vranic came to the doorstep, he stopped. He looked 
 round on one side, then on the other ; after that he cast a 
 glance all around. He bent his head forward to try and pierce 
 the darkness that surrounded him. Was he seeing ghosts ? 
 Then he seemed to be listening. At last, convinced that he was 
 alone, he again walked on. Now he was by the door, almost 
 on the sill, within reach of Radonic's grasp. He stopped again. 
 
 Radonic clasped his knife ; he might have flung the door 
 open, and despatched him with a single blow. No, that would 
 have been stupid. It was better by far to let him come in, 
 like a mouse into a trap, and there be caught with his own 
 bait. Yes, he would make the most of his revenge, spit upon 
 laim, torture him. 
 
 Slowly and noiselessly he glided back into a corner behind 
 the door. Some everlasting seconds passed. He waited breath- 
 lessly, for his heart was beating so loud that he could only 
 gasp. 
 
 Had Vranic repented at the last instant ? Had he gone 
 back ? Was he still standing on the doorstep, waiting and 
 watching ? At last he moved — he came up to the door — he
 
 POBRATIM 169 
 
 slowly pushed it open ; then again he stopped. The darkness 
 within was blacker than the darkness without. 
 
 " Sst, pst ! " he hissed, like a snake. Then he waited. 
 
 He came a step onward; then, in an undertone: " Milena, 
 Milena, where are you ? " 
 
 Again he waited. 
 
 "Milena," he whispered; and again, louder: "Milena, are 
 you here ? " 
 
 He stretched forth his hands, and groped his way in. 
 Radonic could just distinguish him. 
 
 " Milena, my love, it is I, Vranic." 
 
 Those few words were like a sharp stab to Radonic. He made 
 a superhuman effort not to move ; for he wanted to see what the 
 rascal would do next. 
 
 " Perhaps she has fallen asleep, or else has gone to bed," he 
 muttered to himself. 
 
 He again advanced a few steps, always feeling his way. 
 Evidently, he was going towards the next room ; for he knew 
 the house well. All at once, he stumbled against a stool. He 
 was frightened ; he thought someone had clutched him by the 
 legs. He recovered, and shut the door behind him. It was a 
 fatal step ; for otherwise he might, perhaps, have managed to 
 escape. 
 
 How easy it would now have been for Radonic to pounce 
 upon him and dash his brains out ; but he wanted to follow 
 the drama out to its end, and now the last scene was at 
 hand. 
 
 Vranic, having shut the door, remained quiet for some time. 
 He fumbled in his pockets, took out his steel and flint, then 
 struck a light. At the first spark he might have seen Radonic 
 crouching a few steps from him, but he was too busy lighting 
 the bit of candle he had brought with him. When his taper 
 shed its faint glimmer, then he looked round, and, to his horror, 
 he saw the figure of a man, with glistening eyes, and a dagger 
 in his hand, standing not far from him. At first he did not 
 recognise his friend, with shaven beard and in his new attire ; 
 still, he did not require more than a second glance to know 
 who it was. 
 
 Terror at once overpowered him ; he uttered a low, stifled 
 cry. Retreat was now out of the question ; he therefore tried 
 to master his emotion. 
 
 " Oh ! Radonic, is it you ? How you frightened me ! I did
 
 lyo POBRATIM 
 
 not recognise you. But how is it that you have come back ? 
 and this change in " 
 
 "How is it that you are in my house at this hour of the 
 night ? " said he, laying his hands on him. 
 
 " I — I," quoth Vranic, gasping, " I came to see if everything 
 was quiet, as I promised, and seeing your door open " 
 
 " That is why you call Milena your love." 
 
 " Did I ? You are mistaken, Radonic — though perhaps I did ; 
 but then it was only to see if she were expecting someone ; 
 you know women are light " 
 
 " You har, you villain, you devil ! " And Radonic, clutching 
 him by his shoulders, shook him. 
 
 " Believe me ! I swear by my soul ! I swear by the holy 
 Virgin, whose medals — blessed by the Church — I wear round 
 my neck. May I be struck down dead if what I say is not 
 true ! " 
 
 " Liar, forswearer, wretch ! " hissed out Radonic, as he spat 
 in Vranic's face. 
 
 " I never meant to wrong you," replied Vranic, blubbering. 
 " I came here as a friend — I told you I would ; may all the 
 saints together blind me if what I say be not true." 
 
 But the husband, ever more exasperated, clutched his false 
 friend by the throat, and as he spouted out all his wrath, he 
 kept gripping him tighter and ever tighter. In his passion his 
 convulsively clenched fingers were like the claws of a bird of 
 prey. 
 
 Vranic now struggled in vain ; the candle, which had been 
 blown out, had fallen from his fingers ; he tried to speak, he 
 gasped for breath, he was choking. 
 
 Radonic's grasp now was as that of an iron vice, and 
 the more the false friend struggled to get free, the stronger 
 he squeezed. 
 
 Vranic at last emitted a stifled, raucous, gurgling sound ; 
 then his arms lost their strength, and when, a moment after- 
 wards, the furious husband relinquished his hold, his antagonist 
 fell on the floor with a mighty thud. 
 
 The bells of the church were chiming in the distance. 
 
 Radonic, shivering, shuddering, stood stock-still in the dark- 
 ness that surrounded him ; he only heaved a noiseless sigh — 
 the deep breath of a man who has accomplished an arduous 
 task. 
 
 Vranic did not get up ; he did not move. Was he dead ?
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 171 
 
 " Dead ! " whispered Radonic to himself. 
 
 Just then the body, prostrate at his feet, uttered a low, 
 hoarse, hollow sound. Was it the soul escaping from the 
 body ? 
 
 He looked down, he looked round ; black clouds seemed to 
 be whirling all around him like wreaths of smoke. He durst 
 not move from where he stood for fear of stumbling against 
 the corpse. 
 
 At last he took out his steel and began to strike a light, but 
 in his trepidation, he struck his fingers far oftener than his 
 flint. At last he managed to light a lantern on the table 
 close by, and then came to look at the man stretched on the 
 floor. 
 
 Oh, what a terrible sight he saw ! He had till now seen 
 murdered men and drowned men, but never had he witnessed 
 such a terrifying sight before ; it was so horrible that, like 
 Gorgon's hideous head, it fascinated him. 
 
 After a few minutes' dumb contemplation, Radonic heaved 
 again a deep sigh, and whispered to himself: "It is a pity 
 I did not leave him time to utter a prayer, to confess his sins, 
 to kiss the holy Cross or the image of the saints. After all, I 
 did not mean to kill the soul and body together." Then, 
 prompted by religious superstitions, or by a Christian feeling 
 — for he was of the Orthodox faith — he went to a fount of 
 holy water, dipped in it a withered olive twig, and came to 
 sprinkle the corpse, and made several signs of the holy Cross ; 
 then he knelt down and muttered devoutly several prayers for 
 the rest of the soul of the man whom he had just murdered ; 
 then he sprinkled and crossed him again. 
 
 Had he opened the gates of paradise to the soul that had 
 taken its flight ? Evidently he felt much comforted after 
 having performed his religious duties ; so, rolling a cigarette, 
 and lighting it at the lantern, he went to sit on the doorstep 
 outside and smoke. That cigarette finished, he made another, 
 and then another. At last, after having puffed and mused for 
 about an hour, he again went into the house and made a bundle 
 of all the things he wanted to take away with him. Every- 
 thing being ready, and feeling hungry, he went to the cup- 
 board, cut himself a huge slice of bread and a piece of cheese, 
 which he ate as slowly as if he were keeping watch on board ; 
 then he took a long draught of wine, and, as midnight was 
 striking, he left the house.
 
 172 POBRATIM 
 
 " I wonder," he thought, " where Milena is ; anyhow, it is 
 much better she is away, for, had she been in the house, she 
 might have given me no end of useless trouble. Women 
 are so fussy, so unpractical at times." 
 
 Thereupon he lighted his pipe. 
 
 " Still," he soliloquised, " I should have liked to see her 
 before starting, to bid her good-bye. Who knows when 
 I'll see her again, if I ever do see her ? And how I hope 
 this affair will be settled soon, and satisfactorily, too ; he 
 has no very near relations, and those he has will be, in their 
 hearts, most grateful to me." 
 
 He trudged on wearily. When he passed Mara's house, 
 he stopped, sighed, and muttered to himself: 
 
 "Good-bye! Milena. I loved you in my own churlish way; 
 I loved you, and if I've been unkind to you, it was all Vranic's 
 fault, for he drove me on to madness. Anyhow, he has paid 
 for it, and dearly, too ; so may his soul rest in peace ! " 
 
 "And now," thought he, "it is useless fooling about; it is 
 better to be off and free in Montenegro before the murder is 
 discovered and the Austrian police are after me, for there 
 is no trifling with this new-fangled government that will not 
 allow people to arrange their little private affairs — it even 
 belies our own proverb : ' Every one is free in his own house.' " 
 
 As he left the town, he bethought himself of what he was to 
 do. First he would see his father-in-law, and ask him to go 
 down to town and fetch his daughter, for it was useless to leave 
 Milena alone in Budua ; life would not be pleasant there till 
 the business of the karvarina was settled. Then, as Monte- 
 negro was always at war with Turkey, he supposed that he 
 would, as almost all haydiik, have to take to fighting as an occu- 
 pation, though, thank God, he said to himself, not as a means 
 of subsistence. 
 
 It was, however, only at dawn that he managed to get out 
 of the town gate, together with some peasants going to their 
 early work, and so he crossed the frontier long before Vranic's 
 murder was known in town. 
 
 On the morrow, when Milena fainted on the murdered man's 
 corpse, she was taken up and placed on her bed ; she was 
 sprinkled with water and vinegar ; she was chafed and fanned ; 
 a burning quill was placed under her nose, but, as none of 
 these little remedies could recall her to life, medical help had 
 to be sent for. Even when she came back to her senses,
 
 POBRA TIM 173 
 
 another fainting-fit soon followed, so that she was almost the 
 whole day in a comatose state. 
 
 Meanwhile (Tripko having summoned help), the house was 
 filled with people, who all bustled about, talked very loud, 
 asked and answered their own questions. Those gifted with 
 more imagination explained to the others all the incidents of 
 the murder. Last of all came the guards. Then they, with 
 much ado and self-importance, managed to clear the house. 
 
 Though Mara would have liked to take Milena back home 
 with her, still the doctors declared that it was impossible to 
 remove her from her bed, where for many weeks she lay 
 unconscious and between life and death, for a strong brain- 
 fever followed the fainting-fits. Her father and mother (who 
 had come to take her away) tended her, and love and care 
 succeeded where medical science had failed.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PRINCE MATHIAS 
 
 Sailing from Trieste to Ragusa, the Spera in Dio v/as 
 becalmed just in front of Lissa ; for days and days she lay 
 there on that rippleless sea, looking like " a painted ship upon 
 a painted ocean." 
 
 It was towards the middle of spring, in that season of the 
 year called by the Dalmatians the venturini, or fortunate 
 months, on account of the shoals of sardines, anchovies, and 
 mackerel, which swim up the Adriatic, and towards that 
 eastern part of its shores, affording the people — whose 
 barren land affords them but scanty food — the main source 
 of their sustenance. 
 
 At last a faint breeze began to blow ; it brought with it the 
 sweet scent of thyme and sage from the rocky coast only a 
 few miles off, and made the flabby sails flap gently against 
 the masts, still, without swelling them at all. Everyone on 
 board the Spera in Dio was in hopes that the wind would 
 increase when the moon rose, but the sun went down far 
 away in the offing, all shorn of its rays, and like a huge ball 
 of fire ; then a slight haze arose, dimming the brightness of 
 the stars, casting over nature a faint, phosphorescent glimmer ; 
 then they knew that the wind would not rise, for " the mist 
 leaves the weather as it finds it ; " at least, the proverb says so. 
 
 Already that afternoon the crew of the Spera in Dio had 
 seen the waters of the sea — as far as eye could reach — 
 bickering and simmering ; still, they knew that the slight 
 shivering of the waters was not produced by any ruffling 
 wind, but by the glittering silver scales of myriads of fish 
 swimming on the surface of the smooth waters. In fact, a 
 flock of gulls was soon hovering and wheeling over the main, 
 uttering shrill cries of delight every time they dipped within 
 the brine and snatched an easy prey ; then a number of 
 dolphins appeared from underneath, and began to plunge 
 and gambol amidst the shoal, feasting upon the fry. The
 
 POBRATIM 175 
 
 fish, in a body, made for the shore, hoping to find protection 
 in shallower waters. Alas ! a far more powerful enemy was 
 waiting for them there. 
 
 Night came on ; the fishermen lighted their resinous torches 
 on the prows of the boats, and the fish, attracted by the 
 sheen, which reflected itself down in the deep, dark water, 
 were lured within the double net spread out to catch them. 
 
 When the shoal began to follow the deceptive light, the 
 quiet waters were struck with mighty, resounding thuds, and 
 the terror-stricken sardines swam hither and thither, helter- 
 skelter, entangling themselves within the meshes of that wall of 
 netting spread out to capture them. 
 
 Thus the whole of that balmy summer night was passed in 
 decoying and frightening the shoal, in gathering it together, 
 then in driving it into the inlet where the nets were spread. 
 
 At last, at early dawn, the long - awaited moment came. 
 Every fisherman, dumb with expectation, grasped the ropes of 
 the net and tugged with lusty sinews and a rare good-will. For 
 the father, the sustenance of his children at home lay in those 
 nets ; for the lover, the produce of that first night's fishery 
 would enable him to say whether he could wed the girl he 
 loves that year, or if the marriage would have to be post- 
 poned till more propitious times. 
 
 The strong men groaned under the weight they were heaving, 
 but not a word was spoken. Finally, the dripping nets were 
 uplifted out of the water. It was a rare sight to see the fish 
 glistening like a mass of molten silver within the brown meshes, 
 just when the first hyacinthine beams of the dawning sun fell 
 upon their glossy, nacreous scales. 
 
 The captain and his two mates, the pobratim, rowed on shore 
 and took part in the general rejoicings, for nothing gladdens 
 the heart of man as abundance ; moreover, they made a very 
 good stroke of business, for, having ready-money, they bought 
 up, and thus secured, part of their cargo for their return 
 voyage. 
 
 On the morrow, a fresh and steady breeze having begun to 
 blow, the lazy sails swelled out, the ship flew on the rippling 
 waters, like a white swan, and that very evening they dropped 
 the anchor at Gravosa, the port of Ragusa. 
 
 How often the letter we have been so anxiously expecting 
 only comes to disappoint us, making us feel our sorrow more 
 deeply.
 
 176 P OB RAT I M 
 
 As soon as the post-office was opened, the pobratim hurried 
 there to ask for letters. They both received several from their 
 parents. Uros read, with a sinking heart, what we already know, 
 that Radonic had killed Vranic, and that Milena was dangerously 
 ill. Milenko received a letter in a handwriting new to him. 
 With a trembling hand he tore open the envelope, unfolded the 
 sheet of pale blue Bath paper, containing an ounce of gold dust 
 in it, and read the following lines : — 
 
 " Honoured Sir, — I take up my pen to keep the promise I 
 so imprudently made of writing to you, but this, which is the 
 first, must also be the last letter I ever pen. 
 
 " Perhaps you will be angry with me, and think me incon- 
 stant, but alas ! this is not the case. Henceforth, I must never 
 think of you, or at least, only as a friend. It is not fated that 
 we be man and wife, and, as marriages are made in heaven, 
 we must submit to what has been decreed. 
 
 " You must not think me heartless if I write to you in this 
 way, but the fact is, my father had — even before my birth — 
 promised me in marriage to the son of one of his friends, and 
 this young man happens to be your own friend and brother 
 Uros. My only hope now is, that he, as you hinted, being in 
 love with someone else, will not insist upon marrying me, or 
 else I shall be the most wretched woman that ever lived in 
 this world. 
 
 " My father, who is delighted with the marriage, for he has 
 always mistaken you for Uros, has already written to his old 
 friend Bellacic to remind him of his plighted word. Perhaps 
 your friend will get his father to write to mine, and explain 
 the real state of things to him ; if not, I shall dearly regret the 
 day you saved me from certain death. 
 
 " But why do I write all this to you. Perhaps, as the saying 
 is : ' Far from the eyes, far from the heart.' You have already 
 forgotten the wretched girl who owes her life to you, and 
 must therefore love, cherish, and ever be your most obedient 
 servant, " Ivanka." 
 
 As poor Milenko read this letter, his cheeks grew pale, his 
 heart seemed to stop, he almost gasped for breath. He looked 
 around ; the sky seemed to have grown dark, the world dreary, 
 life a burden. Could it be possible that, when the cup of 
 happiness had touched his lips, it would be snatched away 
 from him and dashed down ?
 
 POBRA TIM 177 
 
 The letter which he had read seemed to have muddled his 
 brain. Was it possible that the girl he loved so dearly was 
 to marry his friend, who did not care about her ? and if she 
 loved him, would she yield tamely to her father's wish ? Alas ! 
 what proper girl ever rebelled against her father's decree ? 
 
 Milenko felt as if a hand of steel had been thrust within his 
 breast, gripped his heart and crushed it. 
 
 All at once he was seized by a dreadful doubt. Did Uros 
 know nothing about all this, or was he conniving with his 
 father to rob him of his bride ? He looked up at his friend, 
 who was reading the letters he had just received. The tidings 
 they contained must have been far worse than his own, for 
 Uros' face was the very picture of despair. 
 
 "What is the matter?" said Milenko; "bad news from 
 home ? " 
 
 For all answer Uros handed the letter he had just been 
 reading to his friend ; it was as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Son, — The present lines are to inform you that 
 we are both well, your mother and myself, though, indeed, I 
 have been suffering with rheumatic pains in my right shoulder 
 and in my left leg, as well as occasional cramps in my stomach, 
 for which the barber has cupped me several times. As for 
 your mother, she always suffers with sore eyes, and though 
 she tries to cure herself with vine-water and the dew which 
 the flowers distil on St. John's Eve, which is a specific, as 
 you know, still, it has not afforded her great relief. She 
 is also often ailing with a pain in her side ; but these are 
 only trifles. Therefore, I hope that this letter will find you, 
 Milenko and the captain in as good health as that which 
 we at present enjoy, and that you have had a good and pros- 
 perous voyage. Here, at Budua, things are always about 
 the same. The weather has hitherto been very favourable 
 to the crops, and, with God's help, we must hope for a good 
 harvest, though the wind having blown down almost all the 
 blossoms of the almond-trees, there will be but little fruit. 
 As for the vines, little can be said as yet ; whilst having had 
 a good crop of olives last year, we cannot expect much this 
 autumn. 
 
 " Our town is always very quiet. A fire only broke out 
 here not long ago, and it burnt down a few houses. As it 
 was beheved to have been caused on account of a karvarina, 
 
 12
 
 178 , POBRATIM 
 
 bloodshed, as usual, ensued. Another fact, which somewhat 
 upset our town, was the death of Vranic, who was found 
 murdered in Radonic's house whilst Milena was spending 
 the evening with us. You may well understand how as- 
 tonished every one was, for Radonic and Vranic had been 
 friends from their youth. Although no one was ever very 
 fond of Radonic, still nobody regretted Vranic, who, as you 
 know, was gifted with the evil eye ; and although I myself, 
 not being superstitious, do not believe that persons can harm 
 you simply by looking at you, still it is useless to go against 
 facts. Poor Milena, who was the first to enter the house 
 after the murder — although your mother had accompanied 
 her thither — was seized by such a terrible fright that she 
 remained soulless for many hours, and has been ill ever 
 since, though with care and good food we hope to bring her 
 round. 
 
 " I was marvelled to hear how you fell in with the Giulanics, 
 and that your ship saved them from death. It is certainly 
 a dispensation of Providence, and — not being an infidel Turk — 
 I do not see Kismet in everything that happens ; still, the hand 
 of the Almighty God is clearly visible in all this. 
 
 " Giulianic and I were friends when he, Markovic and myself 
 were poor folk, struggling hard to live and to put by a penny 
 for a rainy day. All three of us have, thank Heaven, suc- 
 ceeded beyond our expectations, for I am glad to hear, by your 
 account as well as his own, that he is in such good circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " One day — long before you were born — talking together and 
 joking, we made each other a kind of promise, more for the 
 fun of the thing than for anything else, that if we should have, 
 the one a son, and the other a daughter, we should marry 
 them to each other. Not to forget our promises, we exchanged 
 tobacco-pouches. To tell you the truth, not having heard of 
 the Giulanics for so many years, I had all but forgotten my 
 promise, and I daresay he looked at his own pledge as a kind 
 of joke. On receiving your letter, however, I at once wrote to 
 this old friend, sending him back his gold-embroidered pouch 
 and redeeming mine. He at once wrote back a most affec- 
 tionate letter, saying that he was but too happy to give his 
 daughter to the j^oung man who had saved Ivanka's life, but, 
 apparently, had stolen away her heart. Therefore, my dear 
 son, you may henceforth consider yourself engaged to the
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 179 
 
 girl of your choice ; and may the blessing of God and of the 
 holy Virgin rest on you both for ever. 
 
 " Your mother wishes me to tell you not to forget your 
 prayers morning and evening, to try and keep all the fasts, 
 and to light a candle to St. Nicholas whenever you go on 
 shore, so that he may keep you from storms and shipwrecks. 
 Besides, she bids me tell you, that if you want more under- 
 clothing, to write to her in time, so that she may prepare 
 everything you need. 
 
 " Your loving father, 
 
 " MiLOS Bellacic." 
 
 Whilst Milenko was reading this letter, doubt returned 
 several times within his heart, and began to gnaw at it. As 
 soon as he had finished, he handed it back to Uros, and seeing 
 his honest eyes fixed upon him, as if asking for consolation, 
 all doubts were at once dispelled. 
 
 " Well," said Uros, " it isn't enough to think that Milena 
 is ill, but all this complication must arise." 
 
 "As for Milena," replied Milenko, "she is much better; 
 here is a letter from my mother, written after yours, in which 
 she says that she is quite out of danger." 
 
 Comforted with the idea that the woman he loved was 
 better, Uros could not help smiling, then almost laughing. 
 
 Milenko looked at him. astonished. 
 
 " After all, this is your fault," said Uros. 
 
 " Mine ? " 
 
 " Of course ; you would insist in allowing old Giulianic to 
 believe you were myself; now there is only one thing left for 
 you." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " To act your part out." 
 
 " I don't quite understand." 
 
 "Go to Nona, and marry Ivanka at once; when married, 
 Giulianic will have to give you his blessing." 
 
 "Oh! but " 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 " I don't think Ivanka will consent." 
 
 " If she loves you she will. I wish it was as easy for me 
 to marry Milena as it is for you to wed Ivanka." 
 
 " But wouldn't it be better to get the father's consent ? " 
 
 " Old people are stubborn ; once they get a thing into their 
 heads, it's difficult to get it out again." 
 
 12 — z
 
 i8o POBRA TIM 
 
 " Yes, but if- 
 
 " With ' buts ' and ' ifs ' you'll never marry." 
 
 " What are you discussing ? " said the captain, coming up. 
 
 " Oh ! I was simply saying that only a daring man deserves 
 to wed the girl he loves," said Uros. 
 
 " Of course ; don't you know the story of Prince Mathias ? " 
 
 " No," replied the young man. 
 
 " Well, then, as we have nothing to do just now, listen, and 
 I'll tell it to you." 
 
 Once, in those long bygone times when rats fought with 
 frogs, tortoises ran races with hares and won them, pussies 
 went about in boots, and — I was going to add — women wore 
 breeches, but, then, that would not be such an extraordinary 
 occurrence even now-a-days ; well, in those remote times, there 
 lived a King who had a beautiful daughter, as fair as the 
 dawning sun, and as wise as an old rabbi versed in the 
 Kabala. In fact, she was so handsome and so learned that her 
 reputation had spread far and wide, and many a Prince had 
 come from far away beyond the sea to offer his hand and heart 
 to this wonderful Princess. She, however, would have none of 
 them, for she found that, although they — as a rule — rode like 
 jockeys, drove like cabmen and swore like carters, they were, 
 on the whole, slow-coaches ; none of them, for instance, were 
 good at repartee, none could discuss German pessimism, and 
 all — on the contrary — found that life was worth living ; so she 
 would have nothing to do with them. 
 
 She, therefore, sent heralds to all the Courts of Chivalry to 
 proclaim that she would only wed the Prince who, for three 
 successive nights, could sit up and watch in her room, without 
 falling asleep and allowing her to escape. 
 
 Every Prince who heard of the proclamation thought it a 
 good joke, and the candidates for the Princess's hand greatly 
 increased. A host of Diirchlaiichten from the most sacred 
 Protestant empire of Germany, flocked — Armcn-reisender {a.sh.\on 
 — and offered to sit up in the Princess's room for three nights, 
 or even more if she desired it. 
 
 Alas, for the poor Highnesses ! every one paid the trial with 
 his life. The Princess — who knew a thing or two — provided 
 for their entertainment an unlimited supply of Lager Bier, and, 
 moreover — it was a cruel joke — she had a few pages read to 
 them of the very book each one had written, for, in those
 
 POBRATIM 1 81 
 
 literary times, every Prince was bound to write a book. At the 
 end of the first chapter every Prince snored. 
 
 It happened that Prince Mathias — the only son and 
 heir of a queen who reigned in an out-of-the-way island, 
 which was believed by its inhabitants to be the centre 
 of the world — heard of this strange proclamation. He was 
 the very flower of chivalry in those days, strong as a bull, 
 handsome as a stag — though rather inclined to be corpulent — 
 brave as a falcon, and as amorous as a cat in spring-time. He 
 at once resolved to risk his head, and go and spend the three 
 nights in the Princess's bedroom. 
 
 His mother — a pious old lady, an excellent housekeeper, 
 much attached to her domestics, and known throughout the 
 world as an elegant writer of diaries — did her utmost to dis- 
 suade her son from his foolish project ; but all her wise 
 remonstrances were in vain. Prince Mathias, who was not 
 the most dutiful of sons, allowed his mother to jaw away 
 till she was purple in the face, but her words went in by one 
 ear and out by the other ; he remained steadfast to his pur- 
 pose. Seeing at last that praying and preaching were of no 
 avail, Her Gracious Majesty consented to her son's departure 
 with royal grace. She doled out to him a few ducats, stamped 
 with her own effigy, and, knowing his unthrifty ways, she said 
 to herself: " He'll not go very far with that." Then she pre- 
 sented him with a shawl to keep him warm at nights, and she 
 blessed him with her chubby hands, begging him to try and 
 keep out of mischief now that he had reached the years of 
 discretion. 
 
 Mathias, wrapped up in his shawl, went off to seek his for- 
 tune. As he was tramping along the high-road, he happened 
 to meet a stout, sleek-headed man who was lounging on the 
 roadside. 
 
 The Prince — who was very off-handed in his ways, and not 
 very particular as to the company he kept, or to the number 
 of his attachments, as the Opposition papers said — hailed the 
 stout, sleek-headed man. 
 
 '• Whither wanderest thou, my friend ? " said Mathias to the 
 loafer. 
 
 " I tramp about the world in search of happiness," quoth 
 he. 
 
 " You're not a German philosopher, I hope ? " asked the 
 Prince, terror-stricken.
 
 1 82 POBRATIM 
 
 " I'm a true-born Dutchman, sir," retorted the loafer, with 
 much dignity. 
 
 " Give us your paw," said His Highness. 
 
 The friends shoolv hands. 
 
 " What's your trade, my man ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm a kind of Jack-of-all-trades, without any trade in 
 particular — and yours ? " 
 
 " I'll be a kind of general overseer some day or other." 
 
 " Good job ? " 
 
 " Used to be much better — too many strikes nowadays." 
 
 " I see ; it ruins the trade, does it ? " 
 
 " Our trade especially." 
 
 " So ? " 
 
 " But what's your name ? " asked the Prince. 
 
 " Well, I'm generally known as ' The Big One.' You see, I 
 can stretch out my stomach to such a pitch that I can shelter 
 a whole regiment of soldiers in it. Shouldn't you like to see 
 me do the trick ? " 
 
 " Swell away I " ejaculated the Prince. 
 
 The Big One thereupon puffed and puffed himself out, and 
 swelled himself to such a pitch that he blocked up the high- 
 way from one side to the other. 
 
 " Bravo 1 " cried the Prince ; " you're a swell I " 
 
 " I'm a sell," said The Big One, smiling modestly. 
 
 " A cell, indeed I But, I say, where did you learn that 
 trick ? " 
 
 " Up in Thibet." 
 
 " You're an adept, are you ? " 
 
 " I am," said the loafer. 
 
 Mathias crossed himself devoutly. 
 
 " I say, don't you want to accompany me in my wanderings, 
 in a sans fagofi way ? " 
 
 " And take pot-luck with you ? " said the adept, with a wink. 
 
 Mathias took the hint. He jingled the few dollars he had in 
 his pocket, counted the six gold ducats his mamma had given 
 him, and reckoned the enormous amount of food his new friend 
 might consume. On the other hand, he bethought himself how 
 useful a man who could swallow a whole regiment might be in 
 case of an insurrection ; so he shrugged his shoulders, and 
 muttered to himself: 
 
 " There'll be a row at the next meeting of the Witena-gemote, 
 when my debts '11 have to be paid ; but if they want me to keep
 
 POBRATIM 183 
 
 up appearances, they must fork out the tin." Thereupon, turn- 
 ing to The Big One, he added, magnificently : " It's a bargain." 
 
 " You're a brick," said The Big One. 
 
 On the morrow they met another tramp, so tall and so thin 
 that he looked like a huge asparagus, or like a walking minaret. 
 His name was The Long One ; and he could, even without 
 standing on tiptoe, lengthen himself in such a way as to reach 
 the clouds. Moreover, every step he made was the distance of 
 a mile. 
 
 As he, too, was seeking his fortune, the Prince took him on 
 in his suite. 
 
 The day after that, as the three were going through a wood, 
 they came across a man with such flashing eyes that he could 
 light a conflagration with only one of his glances. Of course, 
 they took him on with them. 
 
 After tramping about for three days, they got to the castle 
 where the wonderful Princess lived. Mathias held a council 
 with his friends, and told them of his intentions. Then he 
 changed his gold ducats, pawned his mother's shawl, bought 
 decent clothes for the tramps, and made his entrance into the 
 town with all the pomp and splendour due to his rank. 
 
 As he was travelling incog., he sent his card — a plain one 
 without crown or coat -of- arms — to the King of the place, 
 announcing that he had come with his followers to spend 
 three nights in his daughter's bedroom. 
 
 " Followers not admitted," replied the King. 
 
 " All right ! " retorted the Prince, ruefully. 
 
 " You know the terms, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Death or victory ! " 
 
 The King made him a long speech, terse and pithy, as royal 
 speeches usually are. The Prince, who listened with all 
 attention, tried to yawn without opening his mouth. 
 
 "Yawn like a man!" said the King; "I don't mind it, do 
 you ? " said he to the prime minister, who had written the 
 speech. 
 
 " Pm used to it," said the premier. 
 
 " Well ! do you persist in your intention ? " asked the King 
 at the end of the speech. 
 
 " I do I " quoth the Prince. 
 
 " Then PU light you up to my daughter's door." 
 
 Having reached the landing of the second floor, the King 
 shook hands with the Prince and his followers ; he wished
 
 1 84 POBRATIM 
 
 them good-night ; still, he lingered for a while on the 
 threshold. 
 
 Mathias was dazzled with the superhuman beauty of the 
 royal maiden, who was quite a garden in herself, for she was 
 as lithe as a lily, as graceful as a waving bough, with a com- 
 plexion like jasmines and roses, eyes like forget-me-nots, a 
 mouth like a cherry, breasts like pomegranates, and as sweet 
 a breath as mignonette. 
 
 She could not hide the admiration she felt for Mathias, and 
 congratulated him especially on never having written a book, 
 
 When the old King heard that Mathias was not an author, 
 he was so sorely troubled that he took up his candle and 
 went off to bed. 
 
 No sooner had His Majesty taken himself off than The Big 
 One went and crouched on the threshold of the door ; The 
 Long One made himself comfortable on one of the window- 
 sills ; The Man with the Flashing Eyes on the other. All 
 three pretended to go off to sleep, but in reality they were all 
 watching the Princess, who was carrying on a lively conver- 
 sation with Mathias. 
 
 " Do you like Schopenhauer ? " asked the royal maiden, with 
 a smile like a peach blossom opening its petals to the breeze. 
 
 " I like you," said Mathias, looking deep in the eyes of the 
 young girl, who at once blushed demurely. 
 
 " But }-ou don't answer my question," she said. 
 
 " Well, no," quoth Mathias ; " I don't like Schopenhauer." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because we differ in tastes." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "You see, I'm rather fond of the girls; he isn't." 
 
 " Of all girls ? " asked the Princess, alarmed. 
 
 " All girls in general, but you in particular," added 
 Mathias with a wink. 
 
 The young girl thought it advisable to change the con- 
 versation. 
 
 After a while the Princess began to yawn. 
 
 " Sleepy, eh ? " said Mathias, with a smile. 
 
 " I feel as if a rain of poppies was weighing down my 
 eyelids." 
 
 " Have a snooze, then." 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll feel rather lonely, sitting up by yourself 
 all night."
 
 POBKATIM 185 
 
 "Oh ! don't mind me," said Mathias; "I never turn in very 
 early ; besides, I'll have a game of patience.'' 
 
 ■' But I've got no cards to offer you," said the Princess. 
 
 " I have ; I never travel without a pack in my pocket. " 
 
 " You're sharp." 
 
 " Sharper than many who think themselves sharp." 
 
 Mathias settled himself comfortably at a table and began 
 to play. The Princess undressed, said her prayers, then 
 went off to bed. 
 
 The Prince played one, two, three games ; then he felt his 
 throat rather dry, and would have given half of his kingdom 
 for a glass of grog ; then he began to wonder if there was 
 any whisky in the house. 
 
 Just then, he heard the three men snoring, and the little 
 Princess purring away like a wee kitten. He stretched his 
 arms and his legs, for he felt himself getting stiff. He then 
 tried to play another game, but he could not go on with it ; 
 for he kept mistaking the hearts for the diamonds, and 
 then could no more distinguish the clubs from the spades. 
 He also began to feel chilly, and was sorry not to have his 
 mammy's shawl to wrap himself up in. He, therefore, laid his 
 elbows on the table, and his head between the palms of 
 his hands, and stared at the Princess, whom he fancied 
 looked very much like the sleeping beauty at the waxworks. 
 
 Little by little his eyelids waxed heavy, his pupils got to be 
 smaller and smaller, his sight grew blurred, and then every- 
 thing in front of him disappeared. Prince Mathias was snoring 
 majestically. 
 
 " It took him a long time to drop off, but he's asleep at last," 
 said the Princess, with a sigh. 
 
 She thereupon changed herself into the likeness of a dove, 
 and flew out of the window where The Long One was asleep. 
 Only, on making her escape, she happened to graze the sleep- 
 ing man's hair. He forthwith started up, and, seeing that the 
 Princess's bed was empty, he at once gave the alarm, and woke 
 The Man with the Flashing Eyes, who cast a long look in the 
 darkness outside. That burning glance falling upon the dove's 
 wings singed them in such a way that she was obliged to take 
 shelter in a neighbouring tree. The Man with the Flashing 
 Eyes kept a sharp watch, and the splendour of his pupils, 
 shining on the bird, were like the revolving rays of a light- 
 house. The Long One thereupon put his head out of the
 
 1 86 POBRATIM 
 
 window, stretched out his hand a mile off, grasped the dove, 
 and quietly handed her to Mathias. 
 
 No sooner had Mathias pressed the dove to his heart than, 
 lo and behold I he found that he was clasping in his arms, not 
 a bird, but the Princess herself. 
 
 Mathias could not help uttering a loud exclamation of 
 surprise ; the three men uttered the selfsame exclamation. 
 All at once the door of the Princess's bedroom flew open 
 with a bang. The old King appeared on the threshold, with 
 a dip in his hand. His Majesty looked very much put out. 
 
 "I say, what's all this row about?" said he; " billing and 
 cooing at this time of the night, eh ? " Thereupon His 
 Majesty frowned. 
 
 The Princess nestled in Mathias's arms, blushing like a 
 peony, for she saw that the flowing sleeves of her nightgown 
 were dreadfully singed, and she knew that the colour would 
 never go off in the wash. 
 
 The King, casting a stealthy look round the room, saw the 
 cards on the little table by the Princess's bed, and pointing 
 them out to Mathias with a jerk of his thumb : 
 
 " I see your little tricks, sir, and with your own cards, too; 
 gambling again, eh ? " 
 
 Mathias looked as sheepish as a child caught with his finger 
 in a jam-pot. The King thereupon snuffed the wick of his 
 candle with his own royal fingers, picked up the ermine- 
 bordered train of his night-gown and stalked off to bed, 
 without even saying good-night again. 
 
 " Your father's put out," said Mathias to the Princess. 
 
 " He's thinking of the expense you'll be putting him to, 
 you and your suite." 
 
 " What I is he going to ask us to dinner ? " 
 
 " Can't help it, can he ? " and the Princess chuckled. 
 
 On the second night the Princess flew away in the likeness 
 of a fly ; but she was soon brought back. On the third night 
 she transformed herself into a little fish, and gave the three 
 men no end of trouble to fish her out of the pond in which 
 she had plunged. 
 
 At last the Princess confessed herself vanquished. Mathias 
 had been the only one of all her suitors who had managed 
 to get her back every time she had escaped ; moreover, she 
 had been quite smitten by his jovial character and convivial 
 ways.
 
 POBRATIM 187 
 
 The old King, however, strenuously disapproved of his 
 daughter's choice. Mathias was not a Durchlaucht, he had 
 never written a book, and, moreover, he played patience 
 with his own pack of cards. He, therefore, resolved to 
 oppose his daughter's marriage, and, being an autocrat, his 
 will was law in his own country. 
 
 Mathias, however, presented the King with a packet of 
 photographs that he happened to have about him ; they 
 were all respectable ladies of his acquaintance, belonging 
 to different corps de ballet. So while the King was trying to 
 find out, with a magnifying-glass, what Miss Mome Fromage 
 had done with her other leg— like the tin soldier in Andersen's 
 tale — Mathias ran off with the Princess. 
 
 Then the King got dreadfully angry and ordered his guards 
 to run after the fugitives. 
 
 The Princess, hearing the tramp of horses' feet, asked 
 The Man with the Flashing Eyes to look round and see 
 who was pursuing them. 
 
 " I see a squadron of cavalry riding full speed," said The 
 Man with the Flashing Eyes. 
 
 " It's my father's body-guard." 
 
 " Hadn't we better hide in a bush, and leave them to ride 
 on ? " asked Mathias. 
 
 " No," replied the Princess. 
 
 Seeing the horsemen approach, she took off the long veil she 
 wore at the back of her head, and threw it at them. 
 
 " As many threads as there are in this veil, may as many 
 trees arise between us." 
 
 In a twinkling, a dense forest arose, like a drop-scene, between 
 the fugitives and the guards. 
 
 Mathias and his bride had not gone very far, when they heard 
 again the sound of horses. 
 
 The Man with the Flashing Eyes looked round and saw again 
 the King's body-guard galloping after them. 
 
 " Can you dodge them again ? " asked Mathias. 
 
 The Princess, for an answer, dropped a tear, and then bade 
 it swell into a deep river between them and their pursuers. 
 
 The river rolled its massy waters through the plain, while 
 Mathias and his bride strolled away unmolested. 
 
 Again they heard the sound of horses' hoofs ; again the guards 
 were about to seize the runaways ; again the Princess, drawing 
 herself up in all the majesty of her little person, stretched out
 
 1 88 POBRATIM 
 
 her arm threateningly, and ordered the darkness of the night to 
 wrap them up as with a deep shroud. 
 
 At these words, The Long One grew longer and ever longer, 
 until he reached the clouds ; then, taking off his cap, he deftly 
 clapped it on half of the sun's disc, leaving the royal guards 
 quite in the shade. 
 
 When Mathias and his bride were about ten miles off, The 
 Long One strode away and caught up with them after ten steps. 
 
 Mathias was already in sight of his own castellated towers, 
 when the clatter of horses was again heard close behind them. 
 
 " There'll be bloodshed soon," said the Prince to his bride. 
 
 " Oh ! now leave them all to me," said The Big One ; " it's 
 my turn now." 
 
 The lovers, followed by The Long One and The Man with 
 the Flashing Eyes, entered the city by a postern, whilst The 
 Big One squatted himself down at the principal gate and puffed 
 himself out ; then he opened his mouth as wide as the gate 
 itself, so that it looked like a barbican. Thus he waited for 
 the dauntless life-guards, who, in fact, came riding within his 
 mouth as wildly as the noble six hundred had ridden within 
 the jaws of death. 
 
 When the last one had disappeared. The Big One rose 
 quietly, but at the same time with some difficulty, and tottered 
 right through the town. It was an amusing sight to see his 
 huge bloated paunch flap hither and thither at every step he 
 made. Having reached the opposite gate, he again crouched 
 down, opened his capacious mouth and spouted out all the 
 life-guards, horses and all ; and it was funny to see them ride 
 off in a contrary direction, evidently hoping to overtake the 
 fugitives soon, whilst the Prince, his bride and his suite were 
 on tlie battlements, splitting with laughter at the trick played 
 on their pursuers. 
 
 The old Queen was rejoiced to see her truant son come back 
 so soon, and, moreover, not looking at all as seedy as he usually 
 did after his little escapades. Still, she could not help show- 
 ing her dissatisfaction about two things. The first was that 
 Mathias had pawned her parting gift ; the second that the 
 Princess had come without a veil. 
 
 This last circumstance was, however, easily explained ; and 
 then Her Most Gracious Majesty allowed the light of her 
 countenance to shine on her future daughter-in-law. 
 
 The Long One was forthwith sent back to the old King,
 
 POBRATIM 189 
 
 asking him, by means of a parchment letter, to come and 
 assist at his daughter's wedding. His Majesty, hearing who 
 Mathias really was, hastened to accept the invitation. He 
 donned his crown, took a few valuables with him in a 
 carpet-bag, fuming and fretting all the time at having to start — 
 like a tailless fox — without his body-guard. Just as he was 
 setting out. The Long One, stretching his neck a few miles 
 above the watch tower and looking round, saw the horsemen 
 riding back full speed towards the castle. The old King hear- 
 ing this news, shook his head, very much puzzled, for he could 
 not understand how the horsemen, who had ridden out by one 
 gate, could be coming back by the other. The Long One ex- 
 plained to the King (what they never would have been able to 
 explain themselves) that they had simply ridden round the world 
 and come back the other side. His Majesty, who would other- 
 wise have had all his guards put to death, forgave them right 
 graciously, and to show Mathias that he bore him no ill-will, he 
 presented him, as a wedding gift, with a valuable shawl he had 
 just got second-hand at a pawnbroker's. That gift quite molli- 
 fied the old Queen, and forthwith, as by enchantment, all the 
 clouds looming on the political horizon disappeared, and the 
 nuptials of Mathias and the Princess took place with unusual 
 splendour. 
 
 The Princess gave up her freaks of disappearing in the middle 
 of the night, Mathias never played patience with his own cards 
 any more, and both set their people an example of conjugal virtue. 
 
 High posts at Court were created for the Prince's three 
 friends, and they, indeed, often showed themselves remarkably 
 useful. For instance, if a Prime Minister ever showed himself 
 obstreperous, The Long One would stretch out his arm, 
 catch him by the collar of his coat, and put him for a 
 few days on some dark cloud under which the thunder was 
 rumbling. If a meddling editor ever wrote an article against 
 the prevailing state of things. The Man with the Flashing Eyes 
 cast a look at his papers, and the fire brigade had a great ado 
 to put out the conflagration that ensued. If the people, dis- 
 satisfied with peace and plenty, met in the parks to sing the 
 Marseillaise, The Big One had only to open his mouth and 
 they at once all went off as quietly as Sunday-school children, 
 and all fell to singing the National Anthem. Anarchy, there- 
 fore, was unknown in a land so well governed, and flowing with 
 milk and honey.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MANSLAUGHTER 
 
 The Spera in Dio having reached Gravosa, it discharged the 
 timber it had taken for Ragusa, and loaded a vahiable cargo 
 of tobacco from Trebigne in its stead. The ship was now 
 lying at anchor, ready to set sail with the fresh morning 
 breeze. 
 
 It was in the evening. The captain was in hopes to start on 
 the morrow; for af night it is a difficult task to steer a ship 
 through that maze of sunken rocks and jagged reefs met with 
 all along the entrance of the Val d'Ombla. 
 
 The pobratim had been talking together for some time. 
 Uros had tried to persuade his friend to go and marry Ivanka 
 before the mistake under which her father was labouring had 
 been cleared up ; but the more the plan was discussed, the less 
 was Milenko convinced of its feasibility. 
 
 Uros at last, feeling rather sleepy, threw himself into his 
 hammock, and soon afterwards closed his eyes. Milenko, 
 instead, stood for some time with his arms resting on the 
 main-yard, smoking and thinking, his eyes fixed on the moon, 
 in its wane, now rising beyond the rocky coast, from which 
 the cypresses uplifted their dark spires, and the flowering aloes 
 reared their huge stalks. 
 
 The warm breeze blew towards him a smell of orange 
 blossoms from the delightful Val d'Ombla, and the fragrancy 
 of the Agnus castus, the Cretan sage, and other balmy herbs 
 and shrubs from that little Garden of Eden — the Island of 
 La Croma. Feeling that he could not go to sleep, even if he 
 tried, and finding the earth so fair, bathed as it was now by the 
 silvery light of the moon, he made up his mind to go on shore 
 and have a stroll along the strand. 
 
 What made him leave the ship at that late hour, and go to 
 roam on the deserted shore ? Surely one of those secret im- 
 pulses of fate, of which we are not masters.
 
 POBRATIM igi 
 
 He had walked listlessly for some time on the road leading 
 to Ragusa, when he heard the loud, discordant sounds of two 
 men, apparently drunk, wrangling with each other. The men 
 went on, then stopped again, then once more resumed their 
 walk ; but, at every step they made, their voices grew louder, 
 their tones angrier. Both spoke Slav ; but, evidently, one of 
 the two must have been a foreigner. Milenko followed them, 
 simply for the sake of doing something. When he got nearer, 
 he understood that the cause of the quarrel was not a woman, 
 as he had believed at first, but a sum of money which the Slav 
 had lent to the foreigner. 
 
 As they kept repeating the selfsame things over and over, 
 Milenko got tired of their discussion and was about to turn 
 back. Just then, however, the two men stopped again. 
 The Slav called the stranger a thief, who in return apos- 
 trophised him as a dog of a Turk. From words they now 
 proceeded to blows ; but, drunk as they apparently were, 
 they did not seem to hurt each other very much. Milenko 
 hastened on to see the struggle, for there is a latent instinct, 
 even in the most peaceable man's nature, that makes him 
 enjoy seeing a fight. 
 
 By the time Milenko came in sight of the two men, they 
 had begun to fight in real earnest ; blows followed blows, 
 kicks kicks ; the Slav — • or rather, Turk — roused by the 
 stranger's taunts, seemed to be getting over his drunkenness. 
 He was a tall, powerful man, and Milenko saw him grip his 
 adversary by his neck. Then the two men grappled with 
 each other, reeled in their struggle, then rolled down on the 
 ground. He heard the thud of their fall. Milenko hastened 
 to try and separate them. As he got nearer he could see 
 them clearly, for the light of the moon fell upon them. The 
 stronger man was holding his adversary pinned down, and 
 was muttering the same curses over and over again ; but he 
 did not seem to be ill-using him very much. 
 
 "Leave me alone," muttered the other, "or, by my faith, 
 it'll be so much the worse for you ! " 
 
 " Your faith ! you have no faith, you dog of a giaour ! " 
 growled the other. 
 
 " I have no faith, have I ? Well, then, here, if I have no 
 faith 1 " 
 
 Milenko, for a moment, saw a knife glitter in the moonlight, 
 then it disappeared. He heard at the same time a loud groan.
 
 192 POBRATIM 
 
 He ran up to help the man from being murdered, regardless of 
 his own safety. 
 
 The powerful man was trying to snatch the knife from his 
 adversary's hand, but, as he was unable to do so, he rose, 
 holding his side, from which the blood was rushing. 
 
 "Now you'll have }'our money!" said the little man, with 
 a hideous laugh, and he lifted up his hand and stabbed his 
 adversary repeatedly. 
 
 Milenko pulled out his own knife as he reached the spot, 
 but he only got in time to catch the dying man in his arms 
 and to be covered with his blood. 
 
 The murderer simply looked at his adversary, and, hearing 
 him breathe his last, " He's done for," he added ; then he 
 turned on his heels and disappeared. 
 
 Poor Milenko was stunned for a moment, as he heard the 
 expiring man's death-rattle. 
 
 What could he do to help him ? Was life ebbing ? had it 
 ebbed all away ? he asked himself. Was he dead, or only 
 fainting ? could he do nothing to recall him to life ? 
 
 As he was lost in these thoughts he heard the heavy tramp 
 of approaching feet, and before he could realise the predica- 
 ment in which he had placed himself, the night-watch had 
 come up to the spot and had arrested him as the murderer. 
 
 " Why do you arrest me ? " said he. " I have only come 
 here by chance to help this poor man." 
 
 " I daresay you have," said the sergeant, taking the blood- 
 stained dagger from his hand. 
 
 " But I tell you I do not even know this poor man." 
 
 " Come, it's useless arguing with us ; you'll have to do that 
 with your judges. March on." 
 
 " But when I tell you that I onlj' heard a scuffle and ran 
 up " 
 
 " Then where's the murderer ? " asked one of the guards. 
 
 " He's just run off." 
 
 " What kind of a man was he ? " 
 
 " I hardly saw him." 
 
 " And where do you come from ? " asked the sergeant. 
 
 " From on board my boat, the Spera in Dio, now lying at 
 Gravosa." 
 
 " And where were you going to ? " 
 
 " Nowhere." 
 
 " Oh I you were taking a little stroll at this time of the night ? "
 
 POBRATIM 193 
 
 The men laughed. 
 
 " Come, we're only wasting time " 
 
 " But " 
 
 " Stop talking; you'll have enough of that at Ragusa." 
 
 " But I tell you I'm innocent of that man's death." 
 
 " You are always innocent till you are about to be hanged, 
 and even then sometimes." 
 
 Milenko shuddered. 
 
 Thereupon the guards, taking out a piece of rope, began 
 tying the young man's hands behind his back. 
 
 " Leave me free ; I'll follow you. I've nothing on my con- 
 science to frighten me." 
 
 Still, they would not listen to him, but led him away like a 
 murderer. They walked on for a little more than half-an-hour 
 on the dark road, and at last they arrived at Porta Pilla, one of 
 the gates of Ragusa. They crossed the principal street, called 
 the Stradone, and soon reached the Piazza dei Signori. The 
 quiet town was quieter than ever at these early dawning hours. 
 The heavy steps of the guards resounded on the large stone 
 flags with which the town is paved, and re-echoed from the 
 granite walls of the churches and palaces. 
 
 Poor Milenko was conducted to the guard-house, and when 
 the sergeant stated how he had been found clasping the dead 
 man, holding, moreover, the blood-stained dagger in his hand, 
 he, without more ado, was thrust into the narrow cell of the 
 prison. 
 
 Alone, in utter darkness, a terrible fear came over him. How 
 could he ever prove that he had not murdered the unknown 
 man with whose blood his clothes were soaked ? 
 
 The assassin was surely far away now, and, even if he were 
 not, he doubtless knew that another man had been caught in 
 his stead, and he, therefore, would either keep quiet or stealthily 
 leave the town. If he had at least caught a glimpse of the 
 murderer's face, then he might recognise him again ; but he 
 had seen little more than two dark forms struggling together. 
 Nothing else than that. 
 
 Then he asked himself if God — if the good Virgin — would 
 allow them to condemn him to death innocently ? He fell on 
 his knees, crossed himself, and uttered many prayers ; but, 
 during the whole time, he saw his body hanging on the gallows, 
 and, with that frightful sight before his eyes, his prayers did 
 not comfort him much. 
 
 13
 
 194 POBRATIM 
 
 Then he began to fancy that he must have been guilty of 
 some sin for which he was now being punished. Though lie 
 recalled to mind all his past life, though he magnified every 
 little misdemeanour, still he could not find anything worthy of 
 such a punishment. He had kept all the fasts ; he had gone to 
 church whenever he had been able to do so ; he had lighted a 
 sufficient number of candles to the saints to secure their pro- 
 tection. If, at times, he had been guilty of cursing, of caUing 
 the blessed Virgin Mary opprobrious names, he only had done 
 so as a mere habit, as everybody else does, quite unintention- 
 ally. The priest — at confession — had always admonished him 
 against this bad habit ; but he had duly done penance for 
 these trifling sins, and he had got the absolution. 
 
 He asked himself why he was so unlucky. He had not 
 fallen in love with his neighbour's wife, nor asked for im- 
 possible things. Why could not life run on smoothly for him, 
 as it did for everybody else ? What devil had prompted him 
 to leave his ship at a time when he might have been quietly 
 asleep ? Then the thought struck him that, after all, this was 
 only a bewildering dream, from which he would awake and 
 laugh at on the morrow. 
 
 He got up, walked about his narrow cell, feeling his way in 
 the darkness. Alas ! this was no dream. 
 
 Then he thought of his parents ; he pictured to himself the 
 grief they would feel at hearing of his misfortune. His mother's 
 heart would surely burst should he be found guilty and be con- 
 demned to be hanged. And his father — would he, too, believe 
 him to be a murderer ? 
 
 He again sank on his knees, and uttered a prayer ; not the 
 usual litanies which he had been taught, but a Kyrie Eleison, a 
 cry for help rising from the innermost depths of his breast. 
 
 The darkness of the prison was so oppressive that it seemed 
 to him as if his prayer could never go through those massive 
 stone walls ; therefore, instead of being comforted, doubt and 
 dread weighed heavily upon him. In that mood he recalled to 
 his mind all the incidents of a gloomy story which had once 
 been related to him about a little Venetian baker-boy, who, like 
 himself, had been found guilty of manslaughter. This un- 
 fortunate youth had been imprisoned, cruelly tortured, and 
 then put to death. When it was too late, the real murderer 
 confessed his guilt ; but then the poor boy was festering in his 
 grave.
 
 POBRATIM 195 
 
 Still, he would not despair, for surely Uros must, on the 
 morrow, hear of his dreadful plight, and then he would use 
 every possible and impossible means to save him. 
 
 But what if the ship started on the morrow, leaving him 
 behind, a stranger in an unknown town ? 
 
 The tears which had been gathering in his eyes began to 
 roll down his cheeks in big, burning drops, and now that they 
 began to flow he could not stop them any more. He crouched 
 in a corner, and, as the cold, grey gloaming light of early dawn 
 crept through the grated window of his cell, his heavy eyelids 
 closed themselves at last ; sleep shed its soothing balm on his 
 aching brain. 
 
 Not long after Milenko had gone on shore, Uros woke 
 suddenly from his sleep. He had dreamt that a short, dark- 
 haired, swarthy, one-eyed man, with a face horribly pitted 
 by small-pox, was murdering his friend ; and yet it was not 
 Milenko either, but some one very much like him. 
 
 He jumped up, groped his way to his mate's hammock and 
 was very much astonished not to find him there. Having lost 
 his sleep, he lit a cigarette and went to look down into the 
 waters below. The sea on that side of the ship was as smooth 
 and as dark as a black mirror. He had not been gazing long 
 when, as usual, he began to see sparks, then fiery rods whirling 
 about and chasing each other. The rods soon changed into 
 snakes of all sizes and colours, especially greenish-blue and 
 purple. They twirled and twisted into the most fantastic 
 shapes ; then they all sank down in the waters and dis- 
 appeared. All this was nothing new ; but, when they 
 vanished, he was startled to behold, in their stead, the face 
 of the pitted man he had just seen in his sleep stare at him 
 viciously with his single eye. He drew back, frightened, 
 and the face vanished. After an instant, he looked again ; 
 he saw nothing more, but the inky waters seemed thick with 
 blood. 
 
 The next morning Milenko was looked for everywhere use- 
 lessly. Uros, who was the last person that had seen him, 
 related how he had gone off to sleep and had left him leaning 
 on the main-yard. At first, every one thought that he had gone 
 on shore for something, and that he would be back presently ; 
 but time passed and Milenko did not make his appearance. 
 The wind was favourable, the sails were spread, they had 
 only to heave the anchor to start ; everybody began to 
 
 13—2
 
 196 POBRA TIM 
 
 fear that some accident had happened to him to detain him 
 on shore. Uros was continually haunted by his dream, es- 
 pecially by the face of the single-eyed man. He offered to 
 go in search of his friend. 
 
 " Well," replied the captain, " I think I'll come with you ; 
 two'U find him quicker than one alone, for now we have no 
 time to lose." 
 
 They went on shore and enquired at a coffee-house, but the 
 sleepy waiters could not give them any information. They 
 asked some boatmen lounging about the wharf, still with no 
 better success. A porter from Ragusa finally said that he had 
 heard of a murder committed that night on the road, but all 
 the particulars were, as yet, unknown. Doubtless it was a 
 skirmish between some smugglers and the watch. 
 
 Anyhow, when Uros heard of bloodshed, his heart sank 
 within him, and the image of the swarthy man appeared before 
 the eyes of his mind, and he fancied his friend weltering in a 
 pool of dark blood. 
 
 " Had we not better go at once to Ragusa ? we might hear 
 something about him there ? " said the captain to Uros. 
 
 " But do you think he can have been murdered ? " 
 
 " Murdered ? No ; what a foolish idea ! He had no money 
 about him ; he was dressed like a common sailor ; he could not 
 have been flirting with somebody's sweetheart. Why should 
 he have been murdered ? " 
 
 The two men hired a gig and drove off at once. When they 
 reached Ragusa, they found the quiet town in a bustle on 
 account of a murder that had taken place on the roadside. 
 The old counts and marquises of the republic forgot their 
 wonted dignity — forgot even their drawling way of speaking — 
 and questioned the barber, the apothecary, or the watch at 
 the town gate with unusual fluency. 
 
 A murder on the road to Gravosa ! A most unheard-of thing. 
 Soon people would be murdered within the very walls of the 
 town ! Such things had never happened in the good olden times I 
 
 " And who was the murdered man ? " asked one. 
 
 '' A stranger." 
 
 " And the murderer ? " 
 
 " A stranger, too ; a mere boy, they say." 
 
 "Oh! that explains matters," added a grave personage; 
 " but if strangers will murder each other, why do they not 
 stay at home and slaughter themselves ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 197 
 
 Such were the snatches of conversation Uros and the captain 
 heard on alighting at Porta Pilla ; and as they asked their way 
 to the poHce station, everybody stared at them, and felt sure 
 that in some way or other they were connected with the 
 murder. 
 
 At the police station, the captain stated how his mate had 
 disappeared from on board, and asked permission to see the 
 murdered man. They were forthwith led to the mortuary- 
 chapel, and they were glad to see that the corpse was a perfect 
 stranger. 
 
 " What kind of a person is the young man you are looking 
 for ? " asked the guard who had accompanied them. 
 
 " Rather above the middle height, slim but muscular, with 
 greyish-blue eyes, a straight nose, a square chin, curly hair, 
 and a small dark moustache." 
 
 *' And dressed like a sailor ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Exactly as you are ? " said he to Uros. 
 
 " Yes ; have you seen him ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; he is the murderer." 
 
 Uros shuddered ; the captain laughed. 
 
 " There must be some mistake," said the latter. " You have 
 arrested the wrong person ; such things do happen occasion- 
 ally." 
 
 " He was arrested while struggling with the man he killed. 
 He was not only all dripping with blood, but he still held his 
 dagger in his hand." 
 
 " With all that, it's some mistake ; for he didn't know 
 this man," said the captain, pointing to the corpse stretched 
 out before them. " If he did kill him, then it was done in 
 self-defence." 
 
 " But where is he now ? " asked Uros. 
 
 " Why, in prison, of course." 
 
 Uros shuddered again. 
 
 •* W^e can see him, can't we ? " said the captain. 
 
 " You must apply to the authorities." 
 
 The departure of the Spera in Dio had to be put off for some 
 days. Uros went on board the ship, whilst the captain re- 
 mained at Ragusa to look after his lost mate. There he soon 
 found out that, in fact, it was Milenko who had been arrested ; 
 and after a good deal of trouble he succeeded in seeing him. 
 
 Although he did his best to comfort him and assure him that
 
 1 98 POBRA TIM 
 
 in a few days the real murderer would be found, he could 
 not help thinking that the evidence was dead against him. 
 Anyhow, he had him transferred to a better cell, and, by 
 dint of backseesh, saw that his bodily comforts were duly 
 attended to. 
 
 On the following day, the captain, Uros and the crew were 
 examined ; and all were of opinion that Milenko could not 
 possibly ever have been acquainted with the unknown man, 
 and, therefore, had no possible reason for taking away his 
 life. The great difficulty, meanwhile, was to find out who the 
 murdered man really was, from where he had come, whither 
 he was going in the middle of the night. 
 
 After that, the captain went to a lawyer's ; and having put 
 the whole affair in his hands, found out that he could do 
 nothing more for Milenko than he had already done ; so he 
 went and lit a candle for his sake, recommended him to the 
 mercy of the Virgin and good St. Nicholas, and decided to start 
 on the following morning, without any further and unprofitable 
 delay. Had the young man been his own son, he would not 
 have acted otherwise. Uros, however, decided to remain 
 behind, and join the ship at Trieste after a few days. 
 
 On the morrow Uros, after having seen the Spera in Dio 
 disappear, went to spend a few hours with his friend. A week 
 passed in this way ; then, not knowing in what way to help 
 Milenko, he bethought himself to seek the aid of some old 
 woman versed in occult lore, in whose wisdom he had much 
 more faith than in the wordy learning of gossiping lawyers. 
 
 Having succeeded in hearing of such a one from the inn- 
 keeper's wife, he went to her at once and explained what he 
 wanted of her. 
 
 She looked at him steadily for a while ; then she went to an 
 old chest and took out a quaint little mirror of dark, burnished 
 metal, and making him sit in a corner, bade him look steadily 
 within it. As soon as he was seated, she took a piece of black 
 cloth, like a pall, and stretched it around him, screening him 
 from every eye. Having done this, she threw some powder 
 on the fire, which, burning, filled the room with fragrant 
 smoke, or rather, with white vapour, which had a heady smell 
 of roses. After a few moments of silence, she took the guzla 
 and played, as a kind of prelude, a pathetic, dirge-like melody ; 
 then she began to sing in a low, lamentable tone, Vuk Stefanovic 
 Karadzic's song, entitled —
 
 POBRATIM 199 
 
 GOD'S JUSTICE. 
 
 Upon a lonely mead two pine-trees grew, 
 
 And 'twixt the two a lowly willow-tree ; 
 
 No pines were those upon the lonely mead, 
 
 Where nightly winds e'er whistle words of woe. 
 
 The one was Radislav — a warrior brave ; 
 
 Whilst Janko was the other stately tree. 
 
 They were two brothers, fond of heart and true ; 
 
 The weeping willow-tree that rose between 
 
 Had whilom been their sister Jelina. 
 
 Both brothers loved the maid so fair and good, 
 
 Fair as a snow-white lily fresh with dew. 
 
 And good, I ween, as a white turtle-dove. 
 
 Once Janko to his sister gave a gift ; 
 
 It was a dagger with a blade of gold. 
 
 That day Marija, who was Janko's wife 
 
 (A wanton woman with a wicked heart), 
 
 Grew grey and green with envy and with grudge. 
 
 And to Zorizza, Radislavo's wife, 
 
 She said : " Pray tell me in what way must I 
 
 Get these two men to hate that Jelina, 
 
 Whom they love more, indeed, than you or me." 
 
 " I know not," said Zorizza, who was good — 
 
 Aye, good indeed, and sweet as home-made bread ; 
 
 " And if I knew, I should pray day and night 
 
 For God to keep me from so foul a deed." 
 
 Marija wended then her way alone. 
 
 And as her head was full of fiendish thoughts, 
 
 She saw upon the mead her husband's foal, 
 
 The fleetest-footed filly of the place. 
 
 Whilst with one hand she fondled the young foal, 
 
 The other plunged a dagger in her breast ; 
 
 Then, taking God as witness, swore aloud 
 
 That Jelina had done that deed of blood. 
 
 With doleful voice the brother asked the girl 
 
 What made her mar the foal he loved so well. 
 
 Upon her soul the maiden took an oath 
 
 That she nowise had done that noxious deed. 
 
 A few days later, on a dreary night, 
 
 Marija went and killed the falcon grey — 
 
 The swiftest bird, well worth its weight in gold. 
 
 Then creeping back to bed, with loud outcry 
 
 She woke the house ; she said that, in a dream, 
 
 She saw her Janko's sister, as a witch. 
 
 Kill that grey falcon Janko loved so well. 
 
 Behold ! at early morn the bird was dead. 
 
 " This cruel deed shall rest upon thy head," 
 
 Said Janko to the girl, who stood amazed.
 
 200 POBRA TIM 
 
 E'en after this Marija found no peace, 
 
 But hated Jelina far more than death, 
 
 So evermore she pondered how she could 
 
 Bring dire destruction down upon the maid. 
 
 One night, with stealthy steps, she went and stole 
 
 The golden-bladed knife from Jelka's room ; 
 
 And with the knife she stabbed her only babe. 
 
 The foul deed done, she put the knife beneath 
 
 The pillow white whereon lay Jelka's head. 
 
 At early twilight, when the husband woke, 
 
 He found his rosy babe stabbed through the breast, 
 
 All livid pale within a pool of blood. 
 
 Marija tore her hair and scratched her cheeks 
 
 With feigned despair ; she vowed to kill the witch 
 
 Who wantonly had stabbed her precious babe. 
 
 " But who has done this cruel, craven crime ? 
 
 Who killed my child ? " cried Janko, mad with rage. 
 
 " Go seek thy sister's knife, with golden blade ; 
 
 Forsooth, 'tis stained with blood." And Janko went, 
 
 And found that Jelka still was fast asleep. 
 
 But 'neath her pillow, peeping out, he saw — 
 
 All stained with blood — the knife with golden blade. 
 
 He grasped his sleeping sister by her throat. 
 
 Accusing her of having killed his child. 
 
 And she — now startled in her morning sleep — 
 
 Midst sighs and sobs disowned the dreadful deed ; 
 
 Still, when she saw the knife all stained with gore. 
 
 She grew all grey with fear and looked aghast. 
 
 And guilty-like, before that gruesome sight. 
 
 " An I have done this horrid, heinous deed, 
 
 Then I deserve to die a dreadful death. 
 
 If thou canst think that I have killed thy child. 
 
 Then take and tie me to thy horses' tails. 
 
 So that they tread me down beneath their hoofs.'" 
 
 The maid was led within the lonely mead. 
 
 Her limbs were bound unto the stallions' tails; 
 
 They lashed the horses, that soon reared and ran 
 
 Apart, and thus they tore her limbs in twain. 
 
 But lo ! where'er her blood fell down in drops, 
 
 Sweet sage grew forth, and marjoram and thyme, 
 
 And fragrant basil, sweetest of all herbs ; 
 
 But on the spot where dropped her mangled corse, 
 
 A bruised and shapeless mass of bleeding flesh, 
 
 A stately church arose from out the earth, 
 
 Of dazzling marbles gemmed with precious stones — 
 
 A wondrous chapel built by hallowed hands. 
 
 Marija, then, upon that day fell ill. 
 
 And nine long years she languished on her bed, 
 
 A death in life, still far more dead than quick ;
 
 POBRATIM 201 
 
 And as she lay there 'twixt her skin and bones 
 
 The coarse and rank weeds grew, and 'midst the weeds 
 
 There nestled scorpions, snakes, and loathsome worms, 
 
 Which crept and sucked the tears from out her eyes. 
 
 In those last throes of death she wailed aloud, 
 
 And bade for mercy's sake that they might take 
 
 And lay her in that church which had sprung out 
 
 Where Jelka's body dropped a mangled corpse. 
 
 In fact, her only hope was to atone 
 
 For all those dreadful deeds which she had done. 
 
 But when they reached the threshold of the church, 
 
 A low and hollow voice came from the shrine. 
 
 And all who heard the sound were sore amazed. 
 
 " Avaunt from here ! Till God forgive thy crimes, 
 
 This sacred ground is sure no place for thee." 
 
 Appalled to death, unable yet to die. 
 
 She begged them as a boon that they would tie 
 
 Her to the horses' tails, for dying thus she hoped 
 
 That God might then have mercy on her soul. 
 
 They bound her wasted limbs to stallions' tails ; 
 
 Her bones were broke, her limbs were wrenched in twain. 
 
 And where the sods sucked up her blood impure. 
 
 The earth did yawn, and out of that wide gulf 
 
 Dark waters slowly rose and spread around ; 
 
 Still, lifeless waters, like a lake of hell. 
 
 Within the mere the murdered foal was seen, 
 
 Just as we see a vision in a dream. 
 
 The falcon grey then flew with fluttering wing, 
 
 And panting, fell within that inky pool. 
 
 Then from the eddy rose a tiny cot. 
 
 Within that cot a rosy infant slept. 
 
 And smiled as if it saw its mother's breast. 
 
 But lo ! its mother's claw-like hand arose 
 
 Out of the stagnant waters of the lake, 
 
 And plunged a dagger in the infant's breast. 
 
 The old woman, having finished her song, waited for a while 
 till the young man looked up. 
 
 Presently, Uros, with a deep sigh, lifted his eyes towards 
 her. 
 
 " Always the same man, with that fiendish face of his," 
 quoth he, shaking his head. 
 
 " But tell me what you have seen now, that I might help 
 you — if I can." 
 
 " That man, who has been haunting me all these days." 
 
 " Explain yourself better ; did you only see his face, 
 now ? "
 
 202 POBRATIM 
 
 Uros first explained to the baormtza what he had witnessed 
 in the sea the night when Milenko was arrested for murder. 
 
 " Have you often seen such things in the sea before ? " 
 
 " From my earliest childhood, and almost every time I 
 looked ; very often Milenko and I saw the very same things." 
 
 " But are you sure you never saw the face before ? " 
 
 " Oh I quite sure." 
 
 " Now, tell me minutely what you have seen in the glass." 
 
 " First the mirror grew haz}', just as if clouds were flitting 
 over it ; then, little by little, it got to be more transparent, and 
 of a silvery, glassy grey. After that it grew greenish, and I 
 could distinguish down within its depths a beautiful landscape. 
 It was a country road seen by night ; the moon was rising 
 behind the hills at a distance, and presently the trees, the 
 rocks, the road, were clearer. All at once two men were seen 
 walking on the way. I could not see their faces, for I was 
 behind them ; still, I was sure who the shorter man was. 
 They walked on and disappeared, but then I saw one of 
 them come running back. I was not mistaken ; it was the 
 man with the single eye. His was, indeed, the face of a 
 fiend. 
 
 " He must have been running for some time, for he was 
 panting, nay, gasping for breath. He stopped, looked over 
 his shoulder, then threw the knife he was holding within a 
 bush. It was a bush with silvery leaves, and all covered 
 with flowers. He then wiped his wet hands on the leaves 
 of the shrub, on the scanty grass, then rubbed them with 
 the sandy earth to remove all the traces of the blood. This 
 done, he again took to his heels and disappeared." 
 
 " And that is all you saw ? " 
 
 " No ! the mirror resumed again its real, dark colour, but, 
 as I continued looking within it, hoping to see something 
 more, I saw it turn again milky- white ; then of a strong grass 
 green, and, in the midst of that glaring green paint, I had a 
 glimpse of a Turkish flag ; then, as the red flag vanished, 
 I beheld two words cut out and painted in white in that 
 garish green background. Those mysterious words remained 
 for some time ; then they vanished, and I saw nothing more." 
 
 "Those words were in Turkish characters, were they not ? " 
 
 " No ; some of them were like ours, but not all." 
 
 " Then they must have been either Cyrillic or Greek ; but, 
 tell me, are you quite sure you never saw those words before? "
 
 POBRATIM 203 
 
 ' " Oh ! quite, they were so strange." 
 
 " You know, we happen sometimes to see things without 
 noticing them, even strange things. Then these objects, of 
 which we seem to have no knowledge, come back to us in our 
 dreams, or when we gaze within a mirror ; so it may be that you 
 have seen that face and those words absently, with your eyes 
 only, whilst your mind took no notice of them." 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 " You may think otherwise in a few days. But let's see ; you 
 know where the murder took place, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, the two men were, apparently, coming from Gravosa 
 and going up to Ragusa. Now, the spot where the shorter one 
 stopped must have been five, ten or fifteen minutes from the 
 spot." 
 
 " I daresay a quarter of an hour. Sailors are not accus- 
 tomed to run ; besides, that man is not very young." 
 
 " How do you know he is a sailor ? " 
 
 " By his dress ; and a Greek sailor, besides. He wore a dark 
 blue flannel shirt, a white belt or sash, and those rough, yellow 
 home-spun trowsers which they alone wear." 
 
 "Then probably the two words you saw were Greek. Now, 
 the first thing to be found is the knife ; the second, and far more 
 important fact, is the meaning of those words. Are you sure 
 not to forget them ? Can you, perhaps, write them down ? " 
 
 "I'll never forget them as long as I live ; they are engraven 
 in my mind." 
 
 " Then go and look for the knife. Come back to me to-mor- 
 row ; perhaps I may be of further help to you, that is, if you 
 need more help." 
 
 Uros thanked the old woman, and then asked her where she 
 had learnt all the wonderful things she knew. 
 
 " From my own mother. Once a trade was in one family for 
 ages ; every generation transmitted its secrets with its imple- 
 ments to the other. It is true, people only knew one thing ; but 
 they knew it thoroughly. Nowadays, young people are ex- 
 pected to have a smattering of everything ; but the sum of all 
 their knowledge often amounts to nothing." 
 
 Uros, taking leave of the wise old woman, went down the road 
 leading from Porta Pilla to the sea. Soon he came to the spot 
 where Milenko had been found clasping the murdered man in 
 his arms. Then he looked at every tree, at every stone he
 
 204 POBRA TIM 
 
 passed on his way. After a while, he got to the corner where 
 he had seen— in the mirror — the two men disappear. From 
 there he crawled on, rather than walked, so that not a pebble 
 of the road escaped his notice. After about a quarter of an 
 hour, he came to a shrub of a dusty, greyish green — it was an 
 Agnus castus in full bloom. He recognised it at once ; it was 
 the bush that had looked so silvery by the light of the moon 
 within the magic mirror. His heart began to beat violently. 
 As he looked round, he fancied he would see the murderer 
 start from behind some tree and pounce upon him. He looked 
 at the shrub carefully; some of its lower branches and the tops 
 of many twigs were broken. He pushed the leaves aside, and 
 searched within it. The knife was there. He did not see it at 
 first ; for its haft was almost the same colour as the roots of the 
 tree, and the point of the knife was sticking in the earth. He 
 took it up and examined it. All the part of the blade that had 
 not been plunged in the earth was stained with blood. It was 
 a common knife, one of those that all sailors wear in their belts. 
 He put it in the breast pocket of his coat, and walked down 
 with long strides. He was but a few steps from the shore. 
 
 Reason prompted him now to go to the police and give them 
 the knife ; for it might lead to the discovery of the culprit. Still, 
 this was only a second thought — and Uros seldom yielded to 
 practical after-thoughts ; and whenever he did so, he always 
 regretted it. 
 
 He had not a great idea of the police. They were only good 
 to write things down on paper, making what they called proto- 
 cols, which complicated everything. 
 
 No ; it was far better to act for himself, and only apply for 
 help to the police when he could have the murderer arrested. 
 
 As he got down to the shore the sun was sinking below 
 the horizon ; the silvery waters of the main were now being 
 transmuted into vaporous gold. As he was looking at the 
 sea and sky, from a meteorological, sailor-like point of view, 
 and wondering whereabouts the Spera in Dio was just then, 
 his eyes fell upon a little skiff, which had arrived a few days 
 after they had. It was a Turkish caique, painted in bright 
 prasine green. He had seen it for days when his own ship 
 was loading and unloading, but then it had had nothing par- 
 ticular to attract his attention ; he had seen hundreds of 
 these barques in the East. Now, however, he could not 
 help being struck by its vivid green colour. He looked up ;
 
 POBRA TIM 205 
 
 the red flag with the half-moon met his eyes. He had but 
 time to see it, when it disappeared, for the sun had set. 
 
 How his heart began to beat ! Surely the murderer was 
 on board. He strained his eyes to see the name of the 
 ship, painted on either side, but he could not distinguish it 
 so far. Not a man was seen on deck ; the skiff seemed 
 deserted. 
 
 A boy was fishing in a boat near there ; he called him and 
 asked him to lend him the boat for an instant. 
 
 " What 1 do you want to fish, too ? " asked the boy, pulling 
 up. 
 
 " No ; I'd like to see the name of that caique." 
 
 After two or three good strokes with the oars, Uros could 
 see the name plainly ; it was 11 a v a y t a, exactly the name he 
 had read in the mirror. 
 
 " Is that the ship you are looking for ? " 
 
 " The very same one." 
 
 " Do you want to go on board ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I'd like to see the captain." 
 
 As soon as he was by the side of the caique he called out 
 ^'Patria!" for this is the name by which Greek sailors are 
 usually addressed. 
 
 Some one got up at the summons. It was not the single- 
 eyed man that Uros was expecting to see, but a handsome, 
 dark-eyed, shock-headed young fellow. 
 
 " Is the captain on board ? " 
 
 The youth tossed up his head negatively and said some 
 words, but the only one that Uros understood was Cajfene. 
 
 As soon as Uros jumped on shore he went off to the coffee- 
 house by the pier, the only one at Gravosa. There were only 
 a few seamen smoking and sipping black coffee, but the person 
 he wanted was not amongst them. 
 
 " Do you wish to be taken on board his craft ? " asked a kind 
 of ship-broker, hearing that Uros was asking about the Greek 
 captain. 
 
 A few hours before he would simply have answered negatively. 
 Now, as he wanted to hear more of the ship and its crew, he 
 asked : 
 
 " Is it the Greek captain whose caique is lying just outside ? 
 
 " Yes ; the one painted in green." 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 "Just gone up to town. Are you going to Ragusa ? "
 
 206 POBRATIM 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, as I'm going up too, I'll come with you." 
 
 An hour afterwards Uros was duly introduced to the man he 
 had been looking for. 
 
 The captain's first question was why Uros had remained 
 behind, and as the young man was anxious to lead the conver- 
 sation about the murder, he gave all the details about Milenko's 
 arrest, and the reason why he himself had not started with 
 his ship. 
 
 " What ! " asked Uros, " you haven't heard of the murder ? " 
 
 " No," replied Captain Panajotti ; " you see, I only speak 
 Greek and a little of the lingua Franca, so it is difficult to 
 understand the people here." 
 
 " But how is it you happen to be wanting hands ? You 
 Greeks only have sailors of your own country." 
 
 " I've been very unfortunate this trip. One of my men 
 has a whitlow in the palm of his hand ; another, a Slav, 
 came with me this trip, but only on condition of being allowed 
 to go to his country while the ship was loading and unloading 
 
 " Well ? " asked Uros, eagerly. 
 
 " He went off and never came back." 
 
 " Are you sure he was a Slav, and not a Turk ? " 
 
 " We, on board, spoke to him in Turkish, because he knew 
 the language like a Turk, but he was a Christian for all that ; 
 his country is somewhere in the interior, not far from here. 
 Now another of my men has fallen ill " 
 
 " The man with the one eye ? " 
 
 " What ! you know Vassili ? " asked the captain, with a smile. 
 " Yes, he's ill." 
 
 " What's the matter with him ? " 
 
 " I really don't know; he's lying down, skulking in a hole; 
 the devil take him." 
 
 " Since when ? " 
 
 " Ten days, I think." 
 
 " But is he really ill ? " 
 
 " He says he is ; but why do you ask — do you know him ? " 
 
 " I'll be straightforward with you," said Uros, looking the 
 captain full in the eyes. " I think the murdered man is the 
 Slav who left your ship ten days ago." 
 
 " You don't say so I " exclaimed the captain, astonished and 
 grieved.
 
 POBRA TIM 207 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " The one for whose murder your friend was arrested ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Strange — very strange," said the captain, who had taken 
 off his shoe and was rubbing his stockinged foot, " and the 
 murderer ? " 
 
 " The man who has been ill ever since." 
 
 " Vassili ? " 
 
 " You've said it." 
 
 " But have you any proofs ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Then why did you not get him arrested ? " 
 
 " I'll do so to-morrow." 
 
 " And if you can prove your friend's innocence " 
 
 " We'll sail with you to Zara, my friend and I, if you'll have 
 us, and find you two other able-bodied seamen to take our 
 place." 
 
 " But, remember, I'll not help you in any way to have a man 
 on board my ship arrested." 
 
 " No, I don't ask you to do so." 
 
 " I believe he's a fiend ; still, he's a fellow-countryman of 
 mine." 
 
 The two men thereupon shook hands and separated. 
 
 Uros went to the police, and, after a great ado, he managed 
 to find one of the directors. 
 
 " What do you want ? " said the officer, cross at being 
 disturbed out of office hours. 
 
 " I've found the murderer at last," replied Uros. 
 
 " And what murderer, pray ? Do you think there's only one 
 murderer in the world ? " 
 
 Uros explained himself. 
 
 " And who is he ? " 
 
 " A certain Vassili, a Greek, on board a caique now lying at 
 Gravosa." 
 
 " And how have you found out that he is the murderer, when 
 we know nothing about it ? " 
 
 " By intuition." 
 
 " Well, but you don't expect us to go about arresting people 
 on intuition, do you ? " asked the officer, huffishly. 
 
 Uros proceeded to relate all he knew ; then he produced the 
 knife which he had found. 
 
 " Well, there is some ground to your intuition ; and if the
 
 2o8 POBRA TIM 
 
 murdered man happens to be the Slav sailor who disappeared 
 from on board the ship you speak of, well, then, there is some 
 probability that this one-eyed man is the murderer." 
 
 " Anyhow, could you give orders for the ship to be watched 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes, I can do that." 
 
 " At once ? " 
 
 " You are rather exacting, young man." 
 
 " Think of my friend, who has been in prison ten days " 
 
 " I'll give orders at once. There, are you satisfied now ? " 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 Uros, frightened lest the murderer might escape, hastened 
 down to Gravosa to keep watch on the caique. On his way 
 thither he stopped at a baker's shop and bought some 
 bread, as he had been fasting for many hours. Having got 
 down to the shore, he eat his bread, had a glass of water and 
 a cup of black coffee at the coffee-house, lit a cigarette, and 
 then went to stretch himself down on a boat drawn up on the 
 sand, from where he could see anyone who came out of 
 the Greek ship. 
 
 Although there was no moon, still the air was so clear, and 
 the stars shone so brightly, that the sky was of a deep trans- 
 parent blue, and the night was anything but black. A number 
 of little noises were heard, especially the many insects that 
 awake and begin to chirp when all the birds are hushed. One 
 of them near him was breathing in a see-saw, drilling tone, 
 whilst another kept syncopating this song with a sharp and 
 shrill tsii, tsit. In some farmyard, far off, the growl of an old 
 dog was occasionally heard in the distance, like a bass-viol ; 
 but the pleasantest of all these noises was the plap-plap of the 
 wavelets lapping the soft sand. 
 
 Presently, a custom-house guard came and sat down near 
 Uros, and they began talking together ; and then time passed 
 a little quicker. 
 
 It must have been about half-past one when Uros saw a man 
 quietly lower himself down from the caique into the sea, and 
 make for the shore. He must have swum with one hand, for 
 his other was holding a bundle of clothes on his head. Uros 
 pointed out the swimming figure to the guard, who at once 
 sprang up and ran to the edge of the shore. The man, startled, 
 veered and swam farther off. The watchman whistled, and 
 another guard appeared at fifty paces from there. The man
 
 POBRA TIM 209 
 
 jerked himself round, evidently intending to go back to his 
 ship ; but Uros, who was on the alert, had already pushed into 
 the sea the boat on which he had been stretched, and began 
 paddling with a board which was lying within it. 
 
 The man, evidently thinking that Uros was a custom-house 
 officer, seeing now that he could not get back on board, put on 
 a bold face and swam once more towards the shore, whither 
 Uros followed him. Three custom-house guards had come up 
 together, and were waiting for him to step out of the water. 
 Uros landed almost at once, and pushing the boat on the sand, 
 turned round and found himself face to face with the dripping, 
 naked figure. It was the fiendish, pitted, single-eyed man he 
 had seen in his visions. He was by no means startled at seeing 
 him ; for he would have been astonished, indeed, if it had been 
 someone else. 
 
 Uros, grasping him by one of his arms and holding him fast 
 for fear he might escape, exclaimed : " That's the man ! — that's 
 the murderer 1 " 
 
 " Leave him," said the watchman; " if he tries to escape he's 
 dead." 
 
 " Oh ! but I don't want him dead ; do what you like with 
 him, but don't kill him ; tie him up, cut off his legs and his 
 arms, but spare his life until he has confessed." 
 
 The guards gave another shrill whistle, and presently the 
 policemen came running up. 
 
 The naked man, who did not know a word of Slav, and only 
 very little Italian, was taking his oath in Greek that he was no 
 smuggler. He at once opened his bundle, wrapped up in an oil- 
 cloth jacket, and showed the guards that there was nothing in 
 it but a few clothes. The Greek sailor was ordered to dress 
 himself; then the policemen handcuffed him and led him off to 
 the station, where Uros followed him. 
 
 On the morrow the Greek captain was sent for, and he stated 
 that, having accused Vassili — who, for ten days, had been 
 shamming illness — of having murdered the Slav, this sailor had 
 threatened him to go to the Greek consulate on the morrow. 
 The guilty man, however, had, on second thoughts, deemed it 
 more advisable to seek his safety in flight, little thinking 
 to what danger he was exposing himself. The knife was 
 produced and identified as having belonged to the prisoner ; 
 then, being confronted with Milenko, who at once recognised 
 him as the murderer, he — ^overwhelmed by so many damning 
 
 14
 
 2IO POBRATIM 
 
 proofs— confessed his guilt and pleaded for mercy, saying that 
 he had only killed his antagonist in self-defence. 
 
 Milenko's innocence being thus proclaimed, he was at once 
 set free, whilst Uros was heartily congratulated on his intuition, 
 and the officer who had snubbed him the evening before, 
 strongly advised him to leave the sea and become a detective, 
 for if he had the same skill in finding the traces of criminals 
 as he had displayed in this case, he would soon become a most 
 valuable officer, whilst Milenko was told that he ought to think 
 himself fortunate in having such a friend.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MARGARET OF LOPUD 
 
 Though the pobratim would have sailed with any ship rather 
 than with the ill-fated green caique, still Uros had pledged his 
 word to the Greek captain to go with him as far as Zara or 
 Trieste, and, moreover, there was no other vessel sailing just 
 then for either of these ports, and they were both anxious 
 to catch up with the Spera in Dio without further delay. The 
 Greek captain, likewise — out of a kind of superstitious dread 
 — would have preferred any other sailors to these two young 
 men ; still, as Dalmatians only sail with their own fellow- 
 countrymen and never on Greek crafts, it was no easy matter 
 to find two able-bodied men to go only for a short trip, for 
 those were times when sailors were not as plentiful, nor ships 
 so scarce, as they are now. 
 
 On the day after the one on which Milenko was set free 
 the pobratim set sail with the little caique, and they, as well 
 as the captain, were thoroughly glad to shake the dust off 
 their shoes on leaving Gravosa ; Milenko especially hoped 
 never to set his foot in Ragusa again. 
 
 The fresh breeze swelled out the broad white sails of the 
 graceful little ship, which flew as fleetly as a halcyon, steered, 
 as it was, with utmost care, in and out the narrow channels 
 and through that archipelago of volcanic rocks which surround 
 the Elaphite Islands, so dangerous to seamen. It soon left 
 far behind the graceful mimosas, the dark cypress-trees and 
 the feathery palms of the Ragusean coast. 
 
 After all the anxiety of the last days it was pleasant to 
 be again on those blue waters, so limpid that the red fretted 
 weeds could be seen growing on the grey rocks several fathoms 
 below. It was a delight to breathe the balmy air, wafted 
 across that little scented garden of La Croma. The world 
 looked once more so beautiful, and life was again a pleasure. 
 The sufferings the pobratim had undergone only served to 
 
 14—2
 
 212 POBRA TIM 
 
 render them fonder of each other, so that if they had been 
 twins — not only brothers — they could not have loved each 
 other more than they did. 
 
 The sun went down, and soon afterwards the golden bow 
 of the new moon was seen floating in the hyacinthine sky. 
 At the sight of that slender aureate crescent — which always 
 awakens in the mind of man a vision of a chaste and grace- 
 ful maiden- — all the crew crossed themselves and were happy 
 to think that the past was dead and gone, for the new moon 
 brings new fortune to mortals. 
 
 A frugal supper of salted cheese, fruit and olives gathered 
 all the men together, and then those who were not keeping 
 watch were about to retire, when a small fishing-boat with a 
 lighted torch at its prow was seen not very far off. As it came 
 nearer to them the light went out, and the dark boat, with two 
 gaunt figures at the oars, was seen for an instant wrapped in a 
 funereal darkness, and then all vanished. The pobrativi crossed 
 themselves, shuddering, and Milenko whispered something to 
 Uros in Slav, who nodded without speaking. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked the captain, astonished. 
 
 " It is the phantom fishing-boat," replied Uros, almost be- 
 low his breath, apparently unwilling to utter these words, 
 and Milenko added : 
 
 " It is seen on the first days of the new moon, as soon as 
 darkness comes over the waters." 
 
 For a few moments everybody was silent. All looked 
 towards the spot where the boat had disappeared, and then 
 the captain asked Milenko who those two men were, and why 
 they were condemned to ply their oars, and thereupon Milenko 
 began to relate the story of 
 
 MARGARET OF LOPUD, 
 
 Some centuries ago, during the great days of the Republic, 
 there lived a young patrician whose name was Theodor. He 
 belonged to one of the wealthiest and oldest families of Ragusa, 
 his father having been rector of the Commonwealth. Theodor 
 was of a most serious disposition, possessing uncommon talents, 
 and, therefore, taking no delight in the frivolities of his age. 
 His learning was such that he was expected to become one of 
 the glories of his native town. 
 
 Theodor, to flee from the bustle and mirth of the capital and 
 to give himself entirely up to his studies, had taken up his
 
 POBRATIM 213 
 
 abode in the Benedictine convent on the little island of St. 
 Andrea. 
 
 Once he went to visit the island of Lopud — the middle one of 
 the Elaphite group — and there passed the day ; but in the 
 evening, wishing to return to the brotherhood, he could not find 
 his boat on the shore. Wandering on the beach, he happened 
 to meet a young girl carrying home some baskets of fish. 
 Theodor, stopping her, asked her, shyly, if she knew of anyone 
 who would take him in his boat across to the island of 
 St. Andrea. No, the young girl knew nobody, for the fisher- 
 men who had come back home were all very tired with their 
 hard day's work ; they were now smoking their pipes. Seeing 
 Theodor's disappointed look, the young girl proffered her 
 services, which the bashful patrician reluctantly accepted. 
 
 The sail was unfurled and managed with a strong and 
 skilful hand ; the boat went scudding over the waves like 
 an albatross ; the breeze was steady, and the sea quiet. The 
 girl steered through the reefs like a pilot. 
 
 Those two human beings in the fishing-smack formed a 
 strong contrast to one another. He, the aristocratic scion 
 of a highly cultured race, pale with long study and nightly 
 vigils, looked like a tenderly reared hot-house plant. She, 
 belonging to a sturdy race of fishermen, tanned by the rays 
 of the scorching sun and the exhilarating surf, was the very 
 picture of a wild flower in full bloom. 
 
 Theodor, having got over the diffidence with which women 
 usually inspired him, began to talk to the young girl ; he 
 questioned her about her house, her family, her way of 
 living. She told him simply, artlessly, that she was an 
 orphan ; the hungry waves — that yearly devour so many 
 fishermen's lives — had swallowed up her father ; not long 
 after this misfortune her mother died. Since that time she 
 had lived with her three brothers, who, she said, took great 
 care of her. She kept house for them, she cooked, she 
 baked bread, she also helped them to repair their nets, which 
 were always tearing. Sometimes she cleaned the boat, and 
 she always carried the fish to market. Besides, she tilled 
 the little field, and in the evening she spun the thread to 
 make her brothers' shirts. But they were very kind to her, 
 no brothers could be more so. 
 
 He could not help comparing this poor girl — the drudge of 
 the family — with the grand ladies of his own caste, whose
 
 214 POBRATIM 
 
 task in life was to dress up, to be rapidly witty in a saloon, 
 to slander all their acquaintances, simply to kill the time, 
 for whom life had no other aim than pleasure, and against 
 whose love for sumptuary display the Republic had to devise 
 laws and enforce old edicts. 
 
 For the young philosopher this unsophisticated girl soon 
 became an object, first, of speculative, then of tender interest; 
 whilst Margaret — this was the fishermaiden's name — felt for 
 Theodor, so delicate and lovable, that motherly sympathy 
 which a real womanly nature feels for every human being 
 sickly and suffering. 
 
 They met again— haunted as he was by the flashing eyes of 
 the young girl, it was impossible for him not to try and see her 
 a second time, and from her own fair lips he heard that the 
 passion which had been kindled in his heart had also roused 
 her love. Then, instead of endeavouring to suppress their 
 feelings, they yielded to the charms of this saintly affection, to 
 the rapture of loving and being loved. In a few days his 
 feelings had made so much progress that he promised to marry 
 her, forgetting, however, that the strict laws of the aristocratic 
 Republic forbade all marriages between patricians and plebeians. 
 His noble character and his bold spirit prompted him to brave 
 that proud society in which he lived, for those refined ladies 
 and gentlemen, who would have shrugged their shoulders had 
 he seduced the young girl and made her his mistress, would 
 have been terribly scandalised had he taken her for his lawful 
 wife. 
 
 His studies went on in a desultory way, his books were 
 almost forsaken ; love engrossed all his mind. 
 
 In the midst of his thoughtless happiness, the young lover 
 was suddenly summoned back home, for whilst Theodor was 
 supposed to be poring over his old volumes, the father, with- 
 out consulting him, not anticipating any opposition, promised 
 his son in marriage to the daughter of one of his friends, a 
 young lady of great wealth and beauty. This union had, it is 
 true, been concerted when the children were mere babes, and 
 it had from that time been a bond between the two families. 
 The whole town, nay, the Commonwealth itself, rejoiced at this 
 auspicious event. The young lady, being now of a marriageable 
 age, and having duly concentrated all her affections upon the 
 man she had always been taught to regard as her future 
 husband, looked forward with joy to the day that would remove
 
 POBRATIM 215 
 
 her from the thraldom in which young girls were kept. Hence- 
 forth she would take her due share in all festivities, and not 
 only be cooped up in a balcony or a gallery to witness those 
 enjoyments of which she could not take part. 
 
 Theodor was, therefore, summoned back home to assist at a 
 great festivity given in honour of his betrothal. This order 
 came upon him as a thunderbolt ; still, as soon as he recovered 
 from the shock, he hastened back to break off the engagement 
 contracted for him. He tried to remonstrate, first with his 
 father, and then with his mother ; but his eloquence was put to 
 scorn. He pleaded in vain that he had no inclination for 
 matrimony, that, moreover, he only felt for this young lady a 
 mere brotherly affection, that could never ripen into love ; still, 
 both his parents were deaf to all his arguments. Now that the 
 wedding day was settled, ^hat the father had pledged his word 
 to his friend, it was too late to retreat. A refusal would be 
 insulting ; it would provoke a rupture between the two families 
 — a feud in the town. No option was left but to obey. 
 
 Theodor thereupon retired to his own room, where he 
 remained in strict confinement, refusing to see anyone. The 
 evening of that eventful day the guests were assembled, the 
 bride and her family had arrived ; the bridegroom, nevertheless, 
 was missing. This was, indeed, a strange breach of good 
 manners, and numerous comments were whispered from ear to 
 ear. The father sent, at last, a peremptory order to his 
 undutiful son to come down at once. 
 
 The young man at last made his appearance dressed in a suit 
 of deep mourning, whilst his hair — which a little while before 
 had fallen in long ringlets over his shoulders — was clipped 
 short. In this strange dress he came to inform his father — 
 before the whole assembly — that he had decided to forego 
 the pleasures, the pomp and vanity of this world, and to take 
 up his abode in a convent, where he intended to pass his 
 days in study and meditation. 
 
 The scene of confusion which followed this unexpected 
 declaration can easily be imagined. The guests thought it 
 advisable to retire ; still, the first person to leave the house was 
 Theodor himself, bearing with him his father's curse. The dis- 
 carded bride was borne away by her parents, and her delicate 
 health never recovered from that unexpected disappointment. 
 
 That very night the young man went back to the Benedictine 
 convent, and, although the prior received him kindly, he still
 
 2i6 POBRATIM 
 
 advised him to yield to his father's wishes ; but Theodor was 
 firm in his resolution of passing his life in holy seclusion. 
 
 After a few days, the fire which love had kindled within his 
 veins was so strong that he could not resist the temptation of 
 going to see Margaret to inform her of all that had happened. 
 Driven as he was from house and home, unable to go against 
 the unjust laws of his country, he had made up his mind to 
 spend his life in holy celibacy, in the convent where he had 
 taken shelter. The sight of the young girl, however, made him 
 forget all his wise resolutions ; he only swore to her that he 
 would brave the laws of his country, the wrath of his parents, 
 and that he would marry her in spite of his family and of the 
 whole world. 
 
 He thus continued to see the young girl, stealthily at first, 
 then oftener and without so many precautions, till at last Mar- 
 garet's brothers were informed of his visits. They— jealous of 
 the honour of their family, as all Slavs are— threatened their 
 sister to kill her lover if ever they found him with her. Then — 
 almost at the same time — the prior of the Benedictines, happen- 
 ing to hear of Theodor's love for the fair fisher-girl of Lopud, 
 expressed his intention of expelling him, should he not discon- 
 tinue his visits to the neighbouring island. 
 
 Every new difficulty only seemed to give greater courage to 
 the lovers. They would have fled from their native country had 
 it not been for the fear of being soon overtaken, brought back 
 and punished ; they, therefore, decided to wait for some time, 
 until the wrath of their persecutors had abated, and the storm 
 that always threatened them had blown over. 
 
 As Theodor could not go to see the young girl, Margaret now 
 came to visit her lover. Not to excite any suspicion, they only 
 met in the middle of the night ; and, as they always changed 
 their trysting-place, a lighted torch was the signal where the 
 young girl was to steer her boat. Sometimes — as not a skiff 
 was to be got — the young girl swam across the channel, for 
 nothing could daunt her heroic heart. 
 
 These ill-fated lovers were happy in spite of their adverse 
 fortune; the love they bore one another made amends for all 
 their woes. They only lived in expectation of that hour they 
 were to pass together every night. Then, clasped in each 
 other's arms, the world and its inhabitants did not exist for 
 them. Those were moments of such ineffable rapture, that it 
 seemed impossible for them ever to drain the whole chalice of
 
 POBRATIM 217 
 
 happiness. In those moments Time and Eternity were con- 
 founded, and nothing was worth Hving for except the bliss of 
 loving and being loved. The dangers which surrounded them, 
 their loneliness upon those rocky shores, the stillness of the 
 night, and the swiftness of time, only rendered the pleasure 
 they felt more intense, for joy dearly bought is always more 
 deeply felt. 
 
 Their happiness, however, was not to last long. Margaret's 
 brothers, having watched her, soon found out that when the 
 young nobleman had ceased coming to Lopud, it was she who 
 visited her lover by night, and, like honourable men, they 
 resolved to be avenged upon her. They bided their time, 
 and upon a dark and stormy night the fishermen, knowing 
 that their sister would not be intimidated by the heavy sea, 
 went off with the boat and left her to the mercy of the waves. 
 Theodor, not to entice her to expose herself rashly to the fury 
 of the sea, had not lighted his torch ; still, unable to remain 
 shut up within his cell, he roamed about the desolate shore, 
 listening to the roaring billows. All at once he saw a light — 
 not far from the rocks. No fisherman could be out in the 
 storm at that hour. His heart sank within him for fear 
 Margaret should see the light and take it for his signal. In 
 a fever of anxiety he walked about the shore and watched 
 the fluttering light — now almost extinguished, and then burning 
 brightly. 
 
 The young girl seeing the light, and unable to resist the 
 promptings of her heart, made the sign of the Cross, recom- 
 mended herself to the mercy of the Almighty, and bravely 
 plunged into the waters. She struggled against the fury of 
 the wind, and buffeted against the waves, swimming towards 
 that beacon -light of love. That night, however, all her 
 efforts seemed useless ; she never could reach the shore ; 
 that ignis -fattius light always receded from her. Still, she 
 took courage, hoping soon to reach that blessed goal ; in fact, 
 she was now getting quite near it. 
 
 A flash of lightning, which illumined the dark expanse of 
 the waters, showed her that the torch, towards which she had 
 been swimming, was tied to the prow of her brothers' boat. 
 She also perceived that the Island of St. Andrea, towards 
 which she thought she had been swimming, was far behind 
 her. A moment afterwards the torch was thrown into the 
 sea, and the boat rowed off. She at once turned towards
 
 2i8 POBRATIM 
 
 the island, and there, in the midst of the darkness, she 
 struggled with the huge breakers that dashed themselves in 
 foam against the reefs ; but soon, overpowered with weariness, 
 she gave up every hope of rejoining her lover, and sank down 
 in the briny deep. 
 
 The sea that separated the lovers was, however, less cruel 
 than man, for upon the morrow the waves themselves laid 
 the lifeless body of the young girl upon the soft sand of the 
 beach. 
 
 The young patrician, who had passed a night of most 
 terrible anxiety, wandering on the strand, found the corpse 
 of the girl he so dearly loved. He caused it to be committed 
 to the earth, after which he re-entered the walls of the convent, 
 took the Benedictine dress, and spent the rest of his life pray- 
 ing for her soul and pining in grief. 
 
 Milenko did not exactly relate this story in these words, 
 for to be intelligible he had to make use of a mixture of 
 Italian, Slav and even Greek, and even then Captain Panajotti 
 was often puzzled to understand what he meant ; therefore, 
 he had to express himself in^a kind of dumb show, or in those 
 onomatopoetic sounds rather difficult to be transcribed. 
 
 As soon as he had finished, the captain said : 
 
 " We, too, have a story Hke that, and, on the whole, ours 
 is a much prettier one ; for it was the man who swam across 
 the Straits of the Dardanelles to meet the girl he loved, and. 
 on a stormy night, he was drowned." 
 
 " Only ours is a true story ; you yourself have seen, just now. 
 the hard-hearted brothers rowing in the dark." 
 
 " Ours is also true." 
 
 " And when did it happen ? " 
 
 " More than a thousand years ago, when we Greeks were 
 the masters of all the world." 
 
 The Spera in Dio, having met with contrary winds and a 
 storm in the rough sea of the Quarnero, had been obliged 
 to cruise about and shift her sails every now and then, thus 
 losing a great deal of time, and she only reached Trieste after 
 a week's delay. The caique instead had a steady, strong 
 wind, and less than twenty-four hours after they left Ragusa 
 they cast their anchor in front of the white walls of Zara. 
 
 To the pobratinis regret the boat was only to remain there two 
 or three days at most, just time enough to take some bales of
 
 FOB R ATI M 219 
 
 hides, and then set sail for Trieste ; so, althougli they were so 
 near Nona, it was impossible for them to go and pay a visit 
 to Ivanka. The two young sailors had, however, no need of 
 going to Nona to see their friends, for no sooner had the 
 ship dropped her anchor than Giulianic himself came on 
 board, for he was the Sciot merchant about whom Captain 
 Vassili had often spoken to them, and who was to give them 
 the extra cargo. 
 
 " What ! you here ? " said Giulianic, opening his eyes with 
 astonishment. " Well, this is an unexpected pleasure ; but 
 I thought you were in Trieste." Then, turning to Milenko, 
 he added : " I had a letter from your father only a few days 
 ago informing me that your ship would be there now. You 
 have not been shipwrecked, I hope ? " 
 
 " No, no," replied Uros, at once ; " we were detained at 
 Ragusa ; but we are on our way to Trieste, aren't we, captain ? " 
 
 " If God grants us a fair wind, we are." 
 
 Milenko thereupon opened his mouth to speak, but his friend 
 forestalled him. 
 
 " So you had a letter from his father ? Well, what news from 
 home ? Are they all in good health ? And how are the crops 
 getting on ? " Thereupon he stepped on his friend's foot to 
 make him keep quiet. 
 
 " Yes, all are well. Amongst other things, he says that your 
 father has gone to Montenegro." 
 
 " My father ? " asked Uros, with a sly wink at Milenko. 
 
 " Yes; on account of a murder that had been committed at 
 Budua." Then, turning to the captain: " By-the-bye, you knew 
 Radonic, didn't you ? " 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 " Well, it appears he's gone and murdered the only friend 
 he had." 
 
 " That's not astonishing. The only thing that surprises me 
 is that he ever had a friend to murder. He was one of the 
 most unsociable men I ever met." 
 
 Afterwards they spoke of the accident that had kept the 
 two young men at Ragusa, at which Giulianic seemed greatly 
 concerned. 
 
 " Anyhow," said he, " it's lucky that my wife and Ivanka 
 have come with me from Nona. They'll be so glad to see you 
 again ; for you must know. Captain Panajotti, that my bones, 
 and those of my wife and daughter, would now be lying at the
 
 220 POBRA TIM 
 
 bottom of the sea, had it not been for the courage of these two 
 young men." 
 
 " Oh ! you must thank him," said Uros, pointing to Milenko. 
 " I only helped so as not to leave him to risk his life alone." 
 
 " They never told me anything about it ; but, of course, they 
 did not know that I was acquainted with you." Then, laughing, 
 the captain added : " Fancy, I have been warning them not to 
 lose their hearts on seeing your beautiful daugliter." 
 
 " And didn't I tell you that my friend had already left his 
 heart at Nona? " 
 
 Saying this, Uros pinched his friend's arm. Milenko blushed, 
 and was about to say something, but Giulianic began to speak 
 about business ; then added : 
 
 " And now I must leave you ; but suppose you all three 
 come and meet us at the Cappello in about an hour's time, and 
 have some dinner with us ? I'll not say a word either to my 
 wife or Ivanka, and you may fancy how surprised they'll be to 
 see you." 
 
 Captain Panajotti seemed undecided. 
 
 " No, I'll not have any excuse ; you captains are little tyrants 
 the moment the anchor is weighed, but the moment it's dropped 
 you are all smiles and affability. Come, I'll have a dish of 
 scordalia to whet your appetite ; now, you can't resist that ; so 
 ta-ta for the present." 
 
 The moment Giulianic disappeared Milenko looked at his 
 friend, whose eyes were twinkling with merriment. 
 
 " It's done," said Uros, smiling. 
 
 " But what made you take the poor fellow in as you did ? " 
 
 " / take him in ? Well, I like that." 
 
 " Well, but " 
 
 " If he deceived himself, am I to be held responsible for his 
 mistakes ? " 
 
 " Still " 
 
 " Besides, if there was any deception, I must say you did 
 your best to let it go on." 
 
 " Of course, I did ; but who made me do it ? " 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " And now is it to continue ? " * 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Alilenko, you're a good fellow, but in some things you are a 
 great ninny. You ask me why ? Well, because, for two days,
 
 POBRATIM 221 
 
 you can make love to the daughter under the father's very 
 nose ; in the meantime I'll devote myself to the father and 
 mother, and make myself pleasant to them." 
 
 " Yes, but what'll be the upshot of all this ? " 
 
 " ' Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof,' the proverb says ; 
 why will you make yourself wretched, thinking of the future, 
 when you can be so happy ? If I only had the opportunity of 
 spending two long days with " 
 
 Uros did not finish his phrase ; his merry face grew dark, and 
 he sighed deeply; then he added : " There is usually some way 
 out of all difficulties ; see how you got out of prison." 
 
 " Still, look in what a predicament you've placed me." 
 
 " Well, if you feel qualmish, we can tell the old man that he's 
 a goose, for he really doesn't know who his son-in-law is ; then 
 I'll make love to fair Ivanka, and you'll look on. Now are you 
 satisfied ? " 
 
 " What are you wrangling about ? " said Captain Panajotti, 
 appearing out of the hatchway in his best clothes, his baggy 
 trowsers more voluminous than those that Mrs. Bloomer tried to 
 set in fashion a few years afterwards. 
 
 "Oh! nothing," said Uros, laughing; "only you must know 
 that every first quarter of the moon I suffer from lunacy. I'm 
 not at all dangerous, quite the contrary; especially if I'm not 
 contradicted. So you might try and bear with me for a day or 
 two; by the time we sail again I'll be all right; it's only a flow 
 of exuberant animal spirits, that must vent themselves. But, 
 how fine you are, captain ; I'm afraid you are trying to out-do 
 my friend, and if it wasn't that you are married, I'd have 
 thought that all your warnings for us not to fall in love with the 
 Sciot's daughter " 
 
 " I see that the lunacy is beginning, so I'll not contradict ; 
 but hadn't you better go and dress ? " 
 
 "All right," quoth Uros, and in a "twinkling the two young 
 men disappeared down the hatchway. 
 
 Half-an-hour afterwards they were at the Albergo Cappello, 
 the only inn of the town, where they found Giulianic awaiting 
 them. The two women were very much astonished to see them. 
 Ivanitza's eyes flashed with unrestrained delight on perceiving 
 her lover, but then she looked down demurely — as every well- 
 bred damsel should — and blushed like a pomegranate flower. 
 Only, when she heard her father address him by his friend's 
 name, she looked up astonished ; but seeing Uros slily wink
 
 222 POBRA TIM 
 
 at her, she again cast down her eyes, wondering what it all 
 meant. 
 
 After a while the mother whispered to her husband that 
 she had always mistaken one of the young men for the 
 other. 
 
 "Did you?" said he, laughing. "Well, I am astonished, 
 for you women are so much keener in knowing people than 
 we men are; for, to tell you the truth, I've often been puzzled 
 myself; they are both the same age, they are like brothers, 
 they are dressed alike, so it's easy to mistake them." 
 
 " Anyhow," added she, " I'm glad to have been mistaken, 
 because, although I like both of them, still I prefer our future 
 son-in-law to young Bellacic ; he's more earnest and sedate 
 than his friend." 
 
 " Yes, I think you are right ; the other one is such a 
 chatterbox." 
 
 " And, then, he displayed so much courage at the time of 
 our shipwreck ; indeed, had it not been for his bravery, we 
 should all have been drowned." 
 
 " Yes, I remember ; he was the first one to come to our 
 rescue. Still, we must be just towards the other one, for he 
 is a brave and a plucky fellow to boot." 
 " And so lively ! " 
 
 " That's it ; rather too much so ; anyhow, I'm glad that 
 Ivanka has fallen in love with the right man ; because it would 
 have been exactly like the perverseness of the gentle sex for 
 her to have liked the other one better." 
 
 "Oh, my daughter has been too well brought up to make any 
 objection! Just fancy a girl choosing for herself; it would be 
 preposterous I " 
 
 " Yes, of course it would ; still, she might have moped and 
 threatened to have gone into a decline. Oh, I know the ways 
 of your model girls ! " 
 
 In the meanwhile, Milenko explained to the young girl how 
 the mistake had originated, and how her father had, from the 
 first, believed him to be Uros. 
 
 Dinner was soon served in a private room of the hotel ; and 
 Uros, who, to keep up the buoyancy of his spirits, and act the 
 part he had undertaken to play brilliantly, had swallowed 
 several glasses of slivovitz, and had induced Captain Panajotti to 
 follow his example, was now indulging freely with the strong 
 Dalmatian wine. Still, he only took enough to be talkative and
 
 POBRA TIM 223 
 
 merry ; but, as he exaggerated the effects of the wine, every- 
 body at table believed him to be quite tipsy. 
 
 No sooner had the dish of macaroni been taken away than 
 he began to insist upon Captain Panajotti telling them a story. 
 
 "Oh, to-morrow you'll be master on board again; but now, 
 you know, you must do what I like, just as if you were my 
 wife!" 
 
 " What ! Your wife " 
 
 But Uros did not let Mrs. Giulianic finish her question, for 
 he insisted upon doing all the talking himself. 
 
 " My wife," said he, sententiously, " my wife '11 have to dance 
 to the tune I play ; for I intend to wear the breeches and the 
 skirts, too, in my house ; so I hope you've brought up your 
 daughter to jump through paper hoops, like a well-trained 
 horse — no, I mean a girl ! " 
 
 " My daughter " 
 
 " Oh, I daresay that your daughter's like you, turning up 
 
 her nose; but I say, D n it ! I'll not have a wife whose nose 
 
 turns up." 
 
 Giulianic looked put out ; his wife's face lengthened by 
 several inches, whilst Ivanka did her best to looked scared. 
 
 " Come, captain," continued Uros, " spout us one of your 
 stories. Now listen, for he'll make you split with laughter. 
 Come, give us one of your spicy ones ; tell us your tale about 
 the lack of wit, but without omitting the " 
 
 " I'm afraid that the ladies " 
 
 " Oh, rot the ladies ! Now, all this comes from this new- 
 fangled notion of having women at table ; if they are to be 
 squeamish and spoil all the fun, let them stop up their ears. 
 Come, I told you I'd not brook contradiction to day." 
 
 " Well, by-and-by ; let me have my dinner now." 
 
 " What's the matter with him ? " asked Mrs. Giulianic of the 
 captain ; " is he drunk ? " 
 
 " Oh, worse I he's moon-struck ; he's like that for a few days 
 at every new moon." 
 
 Mrs. Giulianic made the sign of the Cross, and whispered 
 something to her husband. 
 
 " Then, if you'll not tell us a story, our guest must sing us a 
 song. Come, father-in-law, sing us a song, a merry, rollicking 
 one, for when I'm on shore I like to laugh." 
 
 " No, not here ; we are not in our ovvn house, you know." 
 
 " Do you pay for the dinner, or don't you ? "
 
 224 POBRA TIM 
 
 " I do, but there are gentlemen dining in the next room." 
 
 " If they don't like your song, don't let them listen." 
 
 Thereupon the waiter came in. 
 
 " I say, you, fellow, isn't it true that we can sing in this stink- 
 ing hole of an old tub ? " 
 
 " Oh ! if you like ; only this isn't a tavern, and there are two 
 judges dining in the next room." 
 
 " And you think I'm not going to sing for two paltry judges ! 
 I'll howl, then." 
 
 " No ; let's have some riddles," said Giulianic, soothingly ; 
 " I'm very fond of riddles, aren't you ? Now, tell me, captain, 
 who was it that killed the fourth part of mankind ? " 
 
 " Why, that's as old as your wife," quoth Uros, at once ; 
 " why, Cain, of course. But as you like riddles, I'll tell you 
 one that suits you, though, as the proverb says, a bald pate 
 needs no comb." 
 
 Giulianic winced, for his bald head was his sore point, but 
 then he added, with a forced smile : 
 
 " Come, let's have your riddle." 
 
 " Well, you ought to know what makes a man bald, if anyone 
 does." 
 
 " Sorrow," answered the bald man. 
 
 " Rot, I say ! " 
 
 " What is it, then ? " 
 
 " The loss of hair, of course," and he poked Giulianic in 
 the ribs. " That was good, wasn't it, father-in-law ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't see much of a joke in it," answered the host, 
 snappishly. 
 
 " No ; I didn't expect you would ; that's the joke, you see." 
 Then, turning to Ivanka, with a slight wink : " Now, here's 
 one for you." 
 
 " Let's hear it." 
 
 " Why are there in this world more women than men ? " 
 
 " Because they are more necessary." 
 
 " That's your conceit ; but you're wrong." 
 
 " What is it, then ? " asked the young girl. 
 
 " Because the evil in this world is always greater than the 
 good." 
 
 "So," said she, with a pretty smile, "then, women .ought 
 to be called men's worse halves." 
 
 "Of course, they ought — though there are exceptions to 
 all rules." Then, after drinking very slowly half a glass of
 
 POBRATIM 225 
 
 wine : " Now, one for you, bahica. This is the very best of the 
 lot; I didn't invent it myself, though I, too, can say a smart 
 thing now and then, babica. Tell me, when is a wife seen at 
 her best ? " 
 
 Ivanka's mother, who prided herself upon her youthful looks, 
 winced visibly on hearing herself twice called a granny ; still, 
 she added, simpering : 
 
 " I suppose, when she's a bride." 
 
 " Oh ! you suppose that, do you ? Well, your supposition 
 is all wrong." 
 
 " Well, when is it ? " 
 
 " Ask your husband ; surely, he's not bald for nothing." 
 
 " I'm sure, I don't know ; I think " 
 
 " You think it's when she turns up her nose, but that's not 
 it, for it's when she turns up her toes and is carried out of 
 the house." 
 
 Captain Panajotti laughed, and so did Ivanka ; but her 
 mother, seeing her laugh, could hardly control her vexation, 
 so she said something which she intended to be very sarcastic. 
 
 " Oh ! you are vexed, babica, because I explained you the 
 riddle." 
 
 "Vexed! there's nothing to be vexed about. I'm only 
 sorry that, at your age, you have such a bad opinion of 
 women." 
 
 " 7, a bad opinion, takomi Boga ! I haven't made the riddle ; 
 I've only heard it from my father, and he says that riddles are 
 the wisdom of a nation. So, to show you that I have the best 
 regard for you, here's a bumper " — -and thereupon he filled his 
 glass to the brim and stood up — "to your precious health, 
 mother-in-law." 
 
 Then, pretending to stumble, he poured the glass of wine 
 over her head and face. 
 
 Giulianic uttered an oath, and struck the table with his fist ; 
 Ivanka and Milenko thought he had gone too far. Still, the 
 poor woman looked such a pitiful object, with her turban all 
 soaked and her face all dripping with wine, that they all burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 Mrs. Giulianic, unable to control her vexation, and angry at 
 finding herself the laughing-stock of the whole company, forgot 
 herself so far as to call Uros a fool and a drunkard. He, 
 however, went on, good-humouredly : 
 
 " I'm so sorry ; but, you see, it was quite unintentional, 
 
 15
 
 226 POBRA riM 
 
 Bogami, quite unintentional. But never mind, don't be angry 
 with me ; I'll buy you another dress." 
 
 " Do you think my wife is vexed on account of her dress ? " 
 said Giulianic, proudly. " Thank Heaven ! she doesn't need 
 your dresses yet." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Uros, mopping up the wine with his napkin, 
 " I know that you can afford to buy your wife dresses ; but as 
 I spoilt this one, it is but right that I should pay for it. I can't 
 offer to buy you a yard of stuff, can I ? And, besides, a dress 
 is always welcome, isn't it, mother-in-law ? " 
 
 " Well, never mind about the dress," quoth Giulianic. 
 
 " Oh ! if you don't mind it, j-our wife does ; but there, don't 
 be angry, don't be wriggling with your nose. When I marry 
 your daughter, my pretty Ivanka " 
 
 " You marry my daughter ! " gasped the father. 
 
 " You, indeed ! " quoth the mother. 
 
 "Yes, habica ; then I'll buy you the dearest dress I can get 
 for money in Trieste. What is it to be, velvet or satin ? plain 
 or with bunches of flowers ? What colour would you like ? as 
 red as your face is now ? " 
 
 " When you marry Ivanka, you can buy me a bright green 
 satin." 
 
 " Well, here's my hand upon it ; only you'll look like a big 
 parrot in that dress. Isn't it true, father-in-law ? " 
 
 " A joke is a joke," answered Giulianic ; " but I wish you 
 wouldn't be ' father-in-lawing ' me, for " 
 
 " Well, I hope you are not going to break off the engagement 
 because I happened to christen mother-in-law with a glass of 
 good wine, are you ? " 
 
 " Your engagement ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " I told you I don't mind a joke, still this is carrying " 
 
 " Don't mind him, poor fellow," said Captain Panajotti. 
 " The poor fellow is daft." 
 
 " If anybody is engaged to my daughter," continued Giuli- 
 anic, " it's your friend there, Uros Bellacic! " 
 
 " Oh ! I like that," said Uros, laughing. " I'm afraid the 
 wine's all gone up to your bald pate, old man." Then turning 
 to Captain Panajotti, he added : " He doesn't know his own 
 son-in-law any more," and he laughed idiotically. 
 
 Giulianic and his wife looked aghast. 
 
 Thereupon, thumping the table, Uros exclaimed :
 
 POBRA TIM 227 
 
 " I tell you I'm going to marry your daughter, though, if the 
 truth must be known, I don't care a fig for her, pretty as she is. 
 I've got " 
 
 " And I swear by God that you'll never marry her ! " cried 
 Giulianic, exasperated. 
 
 "That's rich," quoth Uros. "On what do you swear, old 
 bald-pate ? " 
 
 " I swear on my faith." 
 
 " And on your soul, eh ? " 
 
 " On my soul, too." 
 
 " With your hand on the Cross ? " asked Uros, handing him 
 a little Cross. 
 
 " I swear," answered Giulianic, beyond himself with rage. 
 
 " Well, well, that'll do ; don't get angry, take it coolly as I 
 do. You see, I'm not put out. As long as you settle the 
 matter with my father, Milos Bellacic, I'm quite satisfied. ' 
 
 " Milos Bellacic your father ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Then you mean to say that you are ? " 
 
 "Uros Bellacic. Although the wine may have gone a little 
 to my head, still, I suppose I know who I am." 
 
 " Is it true ? " said Giulianic, turning towards Milenko. 
 
 " Yes ! " replied the young man, nervously, " Didn't you 
 know it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Didn't I tell you ?" whispered his wife. 
 
 " Oh ! you always tell me when it's too late," he retorted, 
 huffishly. " And now, what's to be done ? Will you release 
 me from my oath ? " 
 
 Ivanka looked up, alarmed. 
 
 " Decidedly not ; I'll never marry a girl who doesn't want 
 me, whose father has sworn on his soul not to have me, for 
 whose mother I'm a drunkard and a fool." 
 
 The dinner ended in a gloomy silence ; a dampness had come 
 over all the guests, and, except Ivanka and Milenko, all were 
 too glad to get rid of one another. 
 
 On the morrow Uros called on Mrs. Giulianic, when her 
 husband was not at home. He apologised for his boorish 
 behaviour, and explained matters to her. 
 
 " Your daughter is in love with Milenko, to whom you all owe 
 your lives; he, too, has lost his heart on her, whilst I — well, it's 
 useless speaking about myself." 
 
 15—2
 
 228 POBRA TIM 
 
 " I see it all now," quoth she, " and you are too good-hearted 
 
 to wish us all to be miserable on account of a stupid promise. 
 
 Well, on the whole, I think you were right." 
 
 " Then you forgi\'e me for what I did and what I said ? " 
 
 " Of course I do, now that I understand it all." 
 
 Before the caique sailed off, Uros was fully forgiven, and 
 
 Giulianic even promised to write to his friend and explain 
 
 matters to him.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 STARIGRAD 
 
 The caique reached Trieste in time to meet the Spera in 
 Dio, which, having discharged her goods, liad taken a cargo of 
 timber for Lissa. At Trieste, the pohratim bade good - bye to 
 Captain Panajotti ; and lie, having found there two of iiis 
 countrymen, was able to set sail for the Levant. From 
 Lissa the Spera in Dio returned to Trieste, and there her 
 cargo of sardines was disposed of to great advantage. 
 
 The young men had been sailing now six months with the 
 captain, and he, seeing that they were not only good pilots, 
 clever sailors, reliable young men, but sharp in business to 
 boot, agreed to let them have the whole management of the 
 ship, for he was obliged to go to Fiume, and take charge of 
 another brig of his, that had lost her captain. Moreover, 
 being well off, and having re-married, he was now going to 
 take his young wife on a cruise with him. 
 
 " And who was the captain of your brig in Fiume ? " 
 
 " One of my late wife's brothers, and as he seems to have 
 disapproved of my second marriage, he has discarded my ship." 
 
 " And is he married ? " 
 
 " Of course, he is ; did you ever know any unmarried cap- 
 tain ? Land rats always seem to look upon marriage as a 
 halter, whilst we sailors get spliced as young as possible. 
 Perhaps it's because we are so little with our better halves 
 that we are happy in married life." 
 
 " And when j^ou give up the sea will you settle down in 
 Fiume ? " 
 
 " I suppose so, though Fiume is not my birth-place." 
 
 '' Isn't it ? Where were you born, then ? " 
 
 " Where the dog-king was born ! " 
 
 " And where was the dog-king born ? For, never having 
 heard of him before, I am now quite as wise as I was," said 
 Uros.
 
 230 POBRATIM 
 
 " Well, they say that Atilla, who was a very great king, was 
 born at Starigrad, the old castle, which, as you know, is not 
 very far from Nona. Starigrad is said to have been built on 
 the ruins of a very old city, which was once called Orsopola, 
 but which now hardly deserves the name of a town. The 
 village where I was born goes by the name of Torre-Vezza, 
 but we in Slav know it as Kulina-pass-glav." 
 
 " What a peculiar name, The Tower of the Dog's Head," 
 added Milenko. 
 
 "Yes, it is also called The Tower of the Dog-King Kulina- 
 pass-kraljev." 
 
 " And why ? " asked Uros. 
 
 " Because it was the tower where Atilla was born, and as the 
 king happened to have a dog's ears, the place was called after 
 him The Tower of the Dog- King." 
 
 " How very strange that a king should have a dog's ears." 
 
 " Not so very strange either. Once, in olden times, a king 
 actually had ass's ears ; but that was long before constitutional 
 monarchy : I doubt whether people would stand such things 
 nowadays. Some historians say that he had a dog's head, 
 but that, I daresay, is an exaggeration ; and perhaps, after all, 
 he had only big hairy ears, something like those of a poodle. 
 Anyhow, if the legend is to be believed, it does not seem 
 wonderful that Atilla was somewhat of a mongrel and doggish 
 in his behaviour." 
 
 " Let's hear the legend," said Uros. 
 
 Thereupon, the captain and his two mates, lying flat on their 
 stomachs, propped themselves up on their elbows, and began to 
 puff at their cigarettes. Then the captain narrated as follows : 
 
 About four hundred years after the birth of our Lord and 
 Saviour Jesus Christ, there lived in Hungary a King who was 
 exceedingly handsome. The Hungarians are, as you must 
 know, a very fine race ; but this monarch was so remark- 
 ably good-looking, that no woman ever cast her eyes upon 
 him without falling in love with him at once. This King had a 
 daughter who was as beautiful a girl as he was handsome a 
 man, and all the kings and princes were anxious to marry her. 
 She had a great choice of suitors, for they flocked to Hungary 
 from the four quarters of the globe. She, however, discarded 
 them all, for she could not find the man of her choice amongst 
 them. Some were too fair, others a shade too dark ; the one
 
 POBRATIM 231 
 
 was too short, the other was tall and lanky. In fact, one batch 
 of kings went off and another came, but with no better success ; 
 fair-bearded and blue-eyed emperors were the same to her as 
 negro potentates, she hardly looked upon either. 
 
 The King at first was vexed to find his daughter so hard to 
 please, then he grew angry at seeing her throw away so many 
 good chances, and at last he decided that she was to marry 
 the very first man that should come to ask for her hand, fair or 
 dark, yellow or copper-coloured. 
 
 The suitor who happened to present himself was a powerful 
 chief of some nomadic tribe. He was not exactly a handsome 
 man, for he was shock-headed, short and squat, with sturdy, 
 muscular limbs, big, broad hands and square feet. As for 
 his face, it was quite flat, with a pug nose, thick lips and 
 sharp teeth. As for his ears, they were canine in their 
 shape, large and hairy. 
 
 Though he was not exactly a monster, still the girl refused 
 him, horrified. The man, gloating upon her, said, with a 
 leer, that a time might come when she would lick her chops 
 to have him. Nay, he grinned and showed his dog-like teeth 
 as he uttered this very low expression, rendering it ever so 
 much the more obnoxious by emitting a low canine laugh, 
 something between a whine and a merry bark. The poor 
 Princess shuddered with horror and said she would as lief 
 be wedded to one of her father's curs. 
 
 The father now got into a towering passion and asked the 
 Princess why she would not marry, and the damsel, melting 
 into tears, and almost fainting with grief and shame, con- 
 fessed that she was in love with him — her own father. 
 
 Fancy the King's dismay ! 
 
 He had been bored the whole of his life by all the women, 
 not only of his Court, but of his whole kingdom, who were 
 madly in love with him. Wherever he went there was 
 always a crowd of young girls and old dames, married women 
 and widows, gazing at him as if he had been the moon ; grey 
 eyes and green eyes, black eyes and blue eyes, were always 
 staring, ogling or leering at him ; and, amidst deep-drawn 
 sighs, he always heard the same words : " Ah I how hand- 
 some he is 1 " His fatal beauty made more ravages amongst 
 the fair sex even than the plague or the small-pox; the ceme- 
 teries and lunatic asylums were peopled with his victims. His 
 dreams were haunted by the sighs and cries of these love-sick
 
 232 POBRA TIM 
 
 females. At last he had decided to live in a remote castle, 
 in the midst of a forest, where he would see and be seen 
 by as few women as possible ; but even here he could not 
 find rest, his own daughter had not escaped the infection. 
 That was too much for the poor King. He at once banished 
 the Princess, not only from his sight — from his castle — but 
 even from his kingdom. He wished thereby to strike the 
 rest of womankind with terror. 
 
 The poor girl, like Cain, wandered alone upon the surface of 
 the earth ; bearing her father's curse, she was shunned by every- 
 one who met her ; for the Hungarians have ever been loyal to 
 their kings. 
 
 She was, however, not quite alone ; for as she left the royal 
 palace she was met on her way by an ugly-looking cur, with a 
 shaggy head, a short and squat body, sturdy muscular legs, big 
 paws, a pug nose, sharp white teeth, and huge flapping ears. 
 He was not exactly a fine dog, but he seemed good-natured 
 enough ; and as he followed her steps, he looked at her 
 piteously with his little eyes. 
 
 She walked about for three days; then, sick at heart, wearj' 
 and faint, she sank down, ready to die. She was on a lonely 
 highway, with moors all covered with heather on either side ; 
 so that she could see nothing but the limitless plain stretch- 
 ing far away in the distance as far as the eye could reach. 
 In that immense waste, with the bright blue sky overhead, and 
 the brown-reddish heath all around, where not a tree, not a 
 shrub, not a rock was to be seen, she walked on and on ; but she 
 always seemed to be in the very centre of an unending circle. 
 Then a feeling of terror came over her ; the utter loneliness in 
 which she found herself overpowered her. And now the 
 mongrel cur, which had remained behind, came running after 
 her, the poor beast, which at first she had hardly noticed, 
 comforted her ; he was now far more than a companion or 
 a protector, he was her only friend. 
 
 She sank down by the wayside, to pat the faithful dog and to 
 rest a while ; but when she tried to rise, her legs were so stiff 
 that they refused to carry her. However, the sun, that never 
 tarries, went on and left her far behind. She saw his fiery disc 
 sink like a glowing ball far behind the verge of the moor ; then 
 darkness, little by little, spread itself over the earth. Night 
 being more oppressive than daylight, the tears began to trickle 
 down her cheeks ; then she lay down on the grass, and began
 
 . POBRATIM 233 
 
 to sob bitterly and to bewail and moan over her ill-timed fate. 
 She was again comforted ; for the ugly cur came to sniff at her, 
 to rub his nose against her cheeks, and lick her hands, as if to 
 soothe and assuage her sorrow. 
 
 Tired as she was her heavy eyelids drooped, shut themselves, 
 and soon she sank into a deep sleep. 
 
 That night she had a most wonderful vision. Soon she felt 
 her body beginning to get drowsy and the pain in her weary 
 head to pass away ; then consciousness gradually vanished. 
 Then it seemed that she saw two genii of gigantic stature appear 
 in front of her; the mightiest of the two bent down, caught her 
 up as if she had been a tiny baby only a few months old, 
 clasped her to his breast, then spread out his huge bat-like wings 
 and flew away with her up into the air. It was pleasant to nestle 
 in his brawny arms and feel the wind rush around her. He 
 carried her with the rapidity of the lightning across the endless 
 plains of Hungary, over the blue waters of the Danube, over 
 lakes and snow-capped chains of mountains, and wide gaping 
 chasms which looked like the mouths of hell. The genius at 
 last alighted on the summit of a very high peak, and from there 
 he slid down, making thus a deep glen that went to the sea- 
 shore. The other genius took up the dog in his arms, trans- 
 ported him likewise through the air, and perched himself 
 on the top of another neighbouring peak. The mountain-tops 
 on which they alighted were the Ruino and Sveti Berdo of 
 the Vellibic chain. Once on their feet again the two Afrites laid 
 down their burdens, and built — till early morning — a huge 
 castle of massive stone, not far from the sea. Their task done, 
 they placed the Princess in a beautiful bed, all inlaid with 
 silver, ivory and mother-of-pearl ; they whispered in her ear 
 that henceforth, and for the remainder of her life, she would 
 have keep to away from the sight of men, for her beauty might 
 have been as fatal as her father's had been. Then they rose up 
 in the air, vanished, or rather, melted away, like the morning 
 mist. 
 
 You can fancy the Princess's surprise the next morning when 
 — on awaking — she found herself stretched on a soft couch, 
 between fine lawn sheets, in a lofty chamber, finer by far even 
 than the one she had had in her father's palace. She rubbed her 
 eyes, thinking that she was dreaming, and then lay for a few 
 moments, half asleep and half awake, hardly daring to move 
 lest she might return, but too soon, to the bitter misery of life.
 
 234 FOBRATIM 
 
 All at once, as she lay in this pleasant sluggish state, she 
 felt something moist and cold against her cheek. She shud- 
 dered, awoke quite, turned round and found herself in still 
 closer contact with the cur's pug nose. 
 
 The Princess drew back astonished, unable to understand 
 whether she was awake or asleep, and, as her eyes fell on the 
 cur, she was surprised to see a kind of broad and merry grin on 
 the dog's face, for the mongrel evidently seemed to be enjoying 
 her surprise. 
 
 The young girl continued to look round, bewildered, for, 
 instead of being on the dusty roadside, where she had dropped 
 down out of sheer weariness, she was lying on a comfortable 
 bed, in a splendid room. She stared at the costly tapestries 
 which covered the walls, at the beautiful inlaid furniture, at the 
 damask curtains all wrought in gold, at the crystal chandelier 
 hanging down from the ceiling ; and as she gazed at all these, 
 and many other things, the cur, with his big hairy front paws 
 on the edge of the couch, was standing on his hind legs, looking 
 at the beautiful young girl. 
 
 The poor girl blushed to see the cur leering at her so 
 doggedly. She rose quickly, put on the beautiful dresses that 
 were lying on a chair ready for her, and went about the house. 
 
 What she had taken for a dream, or a vision, was, in fact, 
 nothing but plain reality. She had, during the night, been 
 carried from the plains of Hungary down to the shores of the 
 Adriatic, and shut up in a fairy castle, alone with the faithful 
 dog. From her windows she could see the mountains on which 
 the two Afrites had alighted, and on the other side the sun-lit, 
 translucent waters of the deep blue sea. 
 
 The castle, which seemed to rise out of the steep, inaccessible 
 crags on which it was perched, was built of huge blocks of 
 stone. It had thick machicolated towers at every corner, gates 
 with drawbridges and barbicans. The apartments within this 
 stronghold, the remains of which are still to be seen, were as 
 sumptuous and as comfortable as any king's daughter might 
 wish. Her protectors had provided her with all the necessities 
 of daily life, for every day, at twelve, a dainty dinner, cooked 
 by invisible hands, was laid out in the lofty hall, whilst in the 
 morning a cup of exquisite chocolate was ready for her on the 
 table in her bedroom ; besides, she found all that could induce 
 her to pass her time pleasantly, for she had statues, pictures, 
 birds and flowers. She could walk in the small garden in the
 
 POBRA TIM 235 
 
 midst of the square court, or under the marble colonnade that 
 surrounded it ; she could stitch, sew, embroider, play the lute, 
 or paint. Still, she was quite alone, and time lay heavy on her 
 hands. She could see, from the windows of the second floor, 
 people at a distance stop and stare at the wonderful castle that 
 had risen out of a rock, lil<e a mushroom, in the space of a 
 night ; but nobody ever saw her. Alone with the cur from morn 
 to night, from year's end to year's end ; he followed her, step 
 by step, whithersoever she went, and whatever she did he 
 would wag his tail approvingly. If she sat down, he would 
 squat on his haunches, on a stool opposite, and gloat on her 
 with his little eyes so persistently that she felt her head grow 
 quite dizzy, and she almost fancied that she had a human being 
 sitting there in front of her, watching lo\'ingly her slightest 
 movement ; and then the strangest fancies flitted through her 
 brain. 
 
 Several times she had tried, as a pastime, to teach the dog 
 some tricks ; but she soon gave it up, for he always inspired 
 her with a kind of awe. He was such a knowing kind of a cur, 
 that he invariably seemed to read all her thoughts within her 
 brain, and, winking at her, did the very thing she wanted him 
 to do, before she had even tried to teach him the trick. Then, 
 as he saw her open her eyes wonderingly, he would look at her, 
 grinning, as if he were making fun of her ; or else he sniffed at 
 her in a patronising kind of way, as if he would say : 
 
 " Pooh ! what a very silly kind of girl you are. Couldn't 
 you, a human being, think of something better than that ? " 
 
 It happened one day that, as they sat opposite each other, 
 looking into each other's eyes — he as quiet as a stone dog on 
 a gate, she with her tapering fingers interlocked, twirling her 
 thumbs as a means of passing her time — the Princess was 
 thinking of her many rejected suitors, whose hearts she had 
 broken ; even of the last one, the short, squat man, with sturdy 
 limbs, large hands and feet, a shaggy head and huge ears. 
 And she sighed, for though he was much more of a Satyr than 
 like her Hyperean father, still he was a man. 
 
 Thereupon, she looked at the cur, with its sturdy limbs, its 
 shaggy head and huge ears ; and she sighed again. The dog 
 winked at her. 
 
 " Cur," she said to herself, " you are ugly enough ; still, if 
 you were a man I think I could fall in love with you." 
 
 The cur stood on his hind legs, his head a little on one side ;
 
 236 POBRA TIM 
 
 there was a knowing, impudent look in his eyes. Then he 
 uttered a kind of doggish laugh, something between a whine 
 and a bark ; then, after showing his teeth in a grinning kind of 
 way, he licked his chops at her sneeringly. 
 
 The words of her last suitor were just then ringing in her 
 ears. She looked at the cur in amazement, for she almost 
 fancied he had uttered those selfsame words. 
 
 The cur was evidently mocking her, as he rolled his shaggy 
 head about, and gloated at her just as her last suitor had 
 done. Thereupon, she blushed deeply, and covering her face 
 with her hands, she burst into tears. 
 
 The poor dog thereupon came to lick the tears that oozed 
 through her fingers, so that she felt somewhat comforted by the 
 affection which this poor mongrel showed her. 
 
 This, thought she, is the end of every haughty beauty who is 
 hard to please and who thinks no one is good enough for her. 
 She rejects all the best matches in early youth, she turns up 
 her nose at every eligible parti, until — when age creeps on and 
 beauty fades — she is happy to accept the first boor that pops 
 the question. As for herself, she had not even a boor whom 
 she could love, not even the churlish man with the huge ears. 
 
 That evening, undressing before going to bed, the Princess 
 stood, sad and disconsolate, in front of her mirror. She was 
 still of a radiant beauty, quite as handsome as she had ever 
 been ; but, alas 1 she knew that her beauty would soon begin to 
 fade in that lonely tower. 
 
 What had she done to the gods to deserve the punishment 
 she was undergoing ? Why had the genii shut her up in that 
 tower to pine there unheeded and unknown ? Why had they 
 not left her to wander about the world, or even die upon those 
 blasted heaths of her country ? Death was better than having to 
 waste away in a living death, doomed to eternal imprisonment. 
 
 It was a splendid night in early May. The moon, on one side, 
 silvered the placid waters of the Adriatic, whilst it gleamed on 
 the still snow-capped tops of the Vellebic, on the other. The 
 breeze that came in through the open casement wafted in 
 the smell of the sea, and of the sage, the hyssop and lavender 
 that grew all around. A nightingale was trilling in an amorous 
 strain, blackbirds whistled in plaintive notes, just as in the 
 daytime the wild doves had cooed their eternal love-song to 
 their mate. 
 
 The poor girl leaned her plump and snowy arms on the
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 237 
 
 white marble window-sill and sighed. How lovely the world is, 
 she thought, and then she remained as if entranced by an 
 ecstatic vision. Within the amber moon that rolled on high 
 and flooded all below with mellow light, the Princess saw a 
 lover with his lass. Their mouths were closely pressed in one 
 long l<iss, as thirsty lips that cleave unto the brim of some am- 
 brosial aphrodisiac cup. Above, the stars were shining forth 
 with love, whilst, down below, the whole earth seemed to pant ; 
 the night-bird's lay, the lisping waves' low voice, and the insect's 
 chirp all spoke of unknown bliss. The very air, all laden with 
 the strong scent of roses, lilies and sweet asphodel, was like 
 the breath of an enamoured youth who whispered in her ear 
 sweet words of love. A scathing flame was kindled in her 
 breast, and in her veins her blood was all aglow ; her shattered 
 body seemed to melt like wax, such was the unknown yearning 
 which she felt upon that lovely night in early May. With 
 reeling, aching head and tottering steps, the forlorn maiden 
 slowly crept to bed, and while the hot tears trickled down her 
 cheeks, oblivion steeped her senses in soft sleep. 
 
 That night the wandering moon, that came peeping through 
 the lofty windows, saw a strange sight. Upon her round 
 disc a broad, sallow face could now be plainly seen, grinning 
 good-humouredly at what she beheld. 
 
 That night the Princess had a dream, or rather a vision. 
 No sooner did she shut her eyes and her senses began to 
 wander and lose themselves, than she saw the shaggy cur 
 come into the room, with his usual waddling gait, wagging his 
 tail according to his wont. He came up to her bed, stood 
 upon his hind legs, put his big paws upon the white sheets, 
 and began to look at her just in the very same way he 
 had done that morning when she awoke to find herself shut 
 up within the battlemented walls of that lonely tower by 
 the sea. She was almost amused to see him stare at her 
 so gravely, for he looked like a wise doctor standing by some 
 patient's bed. Until now there was nothing very strange in 
 this vision, but now comes the most wonderful and interesting 
 part, which shows how truth and fancy, the occurrences of 
 the day before and long-forgotten facts, are often blended 
 together to make up the plot of our dreams. 
 
 As the Princess was looking upon the dog's paws, she saw 
 them change, not all at once, but quietly undergo a slow 
 process of transformation. They, little by little, grew longer
 
 238 POBRA TIM 
 
 and shaped themselves into fingers and broad hands. She 
 looked up — in her sleep, of course — and beheld the fore part 
 of the legs graduall}' lengthen themselves into two sturdy arms. 
 The dog's shaggy head became somewhat blurred, and in 
 its stead a man's tawny mass of hair appeared. In fact, after a 
 few minutes, the last rejected suitor, who, indeed, had always 
 borne a strong likeness to the ugly cur that had followed 
 her in her exile, now appeared before her. 
 
 He was not a handsome man ; no, far from handsome ; still, 
 on the whole, it was better to have as her companion a human 
 being than a dog. Still, strange to say, she now liked this 
 man on account of his strong resemblance to the faithful dumb 
 cur, the only friend she had now had for years. 
 
 " You said that if I were a man you could love me," quoth 
 he, in something like a soft and gentle growl, sniffing at her as 
 he spoke, evidently unable to forbear from his long-acquired 
 canine customs. " Well, now, do you love me ? " 
 
 The young girl — in her dream — stretched out her hand and 
 patted the man's dishevelled hair as she had been wont to 
 caress the cur's shaggy head ; such is the force of habit. 
 
 " I told you that the time would come when you would lick 
 your chops to have me back ; so you see my words, after all, 
 have come true." 
 
 It was a churlish remark, but the young girl had got so 
 accustomed to the cur's strange ways, that she did not resent 
 it ; she even allowed the man to kiss her hands, just as the 
 mongrel had been wont to lick them, which shows how 
 careful we ought to be in avoiding bad habits. 
 
 It was then that the rolling, rollicking moon came peeping 
 through the window with a broad smile on her chubby round 
 face, just as if she was approving of the sight she saw. 
 
 On the morrow, when the Princess awoke, she looked for the 
 cur everywhere, but, strange to say, he was nowhere to be 
 found. She ransacked the whole house, but he had dis- 
 appeared ; she peered through the barbicans, glanced down 
 from the battlements ; she mounted to the top of the highest 
 tower, strained her eyes, and gazed on the surrounding 
 country, but the dog was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 A sense of loneliness and languor came over her. It was so 
 dreary to be shut up in those large and lofty halls, that, at 
 times, the very sound of her steps made her shiver. Her very 
 food became distasteful to her.
 
 POBRA TIM 239 
 
 From that day — being quite alone — she longed to have, at 
 least, a little child which she might love, and which might 
 help her to beguile the long hours of solitude. Every day her 
 maternal instincts grew stronger within her, and every evening, 
 as she stood leaning on the marble window-sill, she prayed the 
 kind genii, who had taken pity on her when she had been 
 wandering on the moor, and almost dying of weariness, of 
 hunger and of thirst, to be kind to her, and bring her a tiny 
 little baby to take the place of her lost cur, for life without a 
 child was quite without an aim. 
 
 Months passed ; the blossoms of the trees had fallen, the 
 fruit had ripened, the harvest had been gathered, the days 
 had grown shorter, the sea was now always lashed into fury, 
 all the summer-birds had flown far away, the others were all 
 hushed ; only the raucous cries of the gulls were heard as 
 they flew past the tower where she dwelt. The days had 
 grown shorter and shorter, the wind was cold, the weather 
 was bleak, when at last her wish was granted. 
 
 It was on a dreary, stormy night in early February ; the 
 Princess was lying on her bed, unable to sleep, when all at once 
 the window was dashed open, and a huge stork flew in. It was 
 the very stork, they say, that, years afterwards, was so fatal to 
 the town of Aquileja, not very far from there. At that moment 
 the poor Princess was so terrified that she quite lost her senses ; 
 but when she came back to herself, she found a tiny baby — not 
 an hour old — lying in bed by her side. 
 
 The wind was blowing in a most terrific way. The Quarnero, 
 which is always stormy, was nothing but one mass of white 
 foam. The huge waves dashed together, like fleecy rams butt- 
 ing against each other. The billows ever rose higher, whilst 
 the waters of the lowering clouds overhead came pouring down 
 upon the flood below. All the elements seemed unchained 
 against that lonely tower. The clouds came pouring down in 
 waterspouts upon it; the breakers dashed against it; the two 
 ravines, the big and the little Plas Kenizza — formed by the genii 
 as they had slid down the mountains — were now huge torrents, 
 rolling down with a roaring noise against the white walls of the 
 tower, making it look more like an enormous lighthouse on 
 a rock than a princely castle. The thunder never stopped 
 rumbling ; the forked lightning darted incessantly down upon 
 the highest pinnacles and the whole stronghold, from its battle- 
 ments down to its very base. Such a terrific storm had never
 
 240 POBRA TIM 
 
 been known for ages ; in fact, not since the days when the 
 mighty Julius had been murdered. 
 
 By the lurid light of the incessant flashes, the Princess first 
 saw her infant boy ; and she heard its first wail amongst the 
 deafening din of the falling thunder-bolts. With motherly fond- 
 ness, she pressed the baby to her breast ; whilst her heart was 
 beating as if it were about to break. What a thrill of unutter- 
 able bliss she felt that moment ; but, alas ! all her joy passed 
 into sorrow when she perceived that her beautiful baby — beauti- 
 ful, at least, to a mother's eyes — had two dear little dog's ears. 
 
 Dogs' ears are by no means ugly — although they are occa- 
 sionally cropped. Why was it, then, that the Princess saw 
 them with horror and dismay ? 
 
 Ears, the young mother thought, are the very worst features 
 man possesses. They stand out prominentl}' and look un- 
 couth, or they sprawl out along the sides of the head ; they 
 are either as colourless as if they had just been boiled, or as 
 red as boiled lobsters. Anyhow, she was somewhat fastidious 
 about the shape and tint of those appendages, so that now the 
 sight of those huge hairy lobes was perfectly loathsome to 
 her, and as she looked upon them she burst into tears. The 
 poor forlorn baby, feeling itself snubbed, was wailing by her 
 side. After a little while she took up her infant ; the disgust 
 she felt was stronger than ever ; moreover, she was thoroughly 
 disappointed. She had begged for a baby, not for a little 
 puppy. In her vexation — she was a very self-willed girl, as 
 princesses often are — she took up the babe, got out of the bed, 
 and in two strides she was by the window. She would cast the 
 little monster into the dark night from where it had come. She 
 herself did not want it. 
 
 As she reached the open window the two genii, her pro- 
 tectors, stood before her. 
 
 "Stop, unnatural mother!" cried the taller of the two. 
 " What are you about to do ? " 
 
 The Princess shrank back, frightened and trembling. There 
 are a few things at which we do not exactly like to be caught : 
 infanticide is one of them. 
 
 " Know," said the Afrite, in a voice like a peal of thunder, 
 " that the child, though with dog's ears, is not only of royal 
 lineage, but he is, moreover, the son of a great genius. About 
 four hundred years ago another Virgin gave birth to a Child, 
 who, later on, was put to death upon a cross because the
 
 POBRATIM 241 
 
 people did not want him as their king. Well, now, the followers 
 of that virgin's child are our bitterest enemies ; our only hope 
 is in your son ; he will grow up to become a mighty warrior and 
 avenge us. He will waste the towns on which the gold cross 
 glistens, he will make their kings his captives, and all their 
 priests his slaves. The blood of the Christians will run in 
 torrents, even as the rain comes down the ravines to-night ; his 
 shafts will be like the thunderbolts that have fallen on your 
 tower to-night. His name — which will be heard all over the 
 world like the rumbling in the clouds— will be The Scourge of 
 God, and he will chastise men for their evil deeds. Wherever 
 he passes the grass will wither under his feet, and the waste 
 will be his wake. Only, that all these things might come to 
 pass, thou must well bear in mind that his head be never shorn 
 nor his beard shaven ; let the tawny locks of his hair fall about 
 his shoulders like a lion's mane, for all his strength will lie 
 therein. As soon as his arm is able to wield a weapon, the 
 trail of blood flowing from a heifer's wound will show him 
 where the sword of the great god of war lies rusting in the 
 rushes ; with that brand in his hand all men will bow before 
 him, or fall like grass beneath the mower's scythe. Love alone 
 will overcome him, and a young girl's lust will lull him into 
 eternal sleep. He will be versed in magic lore, and be able to 
 read the starry skies as a written scroll. From his very 
 infancy he will feel a wholesome hatred for the Nazarenes, his 
 foes as well as ours." 
 
 Having uttered these words, the Afrite rose up like smoke 
 and faded away in the dark clouds. 
 
 In the meanwhile the child grew up of a superhuman 
 strength, short of stature but square, and with very broad 
 shoulders ; and when he was but seven years of age the gates 
 of the castle, hitherto always shut, opened themselves for him. 
 From that time he passed his days in the dells and hollows of 
 the mountains, chasing the wild beasts that abounded in those 
 gorges and in the neighbouring forests, almost inaccessible to 
 man. His mother saw him but little, for he only came back to 
 the castle when heavily laden with his prey. 
 
 He was but a youth when he organised a band of free- 
 booters ; and with their help he sacked and plundered all the 
 neighbouring towns and villages, and the plains all around 
 were strewn with the bones of the dead. Being not only 
 invincible, but just and generous to his men, he soon found 
 
 16
 
 242 POBRA TIM 
 
 himself at the head of an army the like of which the world had 
 never seen. He destroyed the immense town of Aquileja, the 
 largest city of the Adriatic coast, and even burnt down the 
 forest which stretched from Ravenna to Trieste. Whitherso- 
 ever he went the houses fell, the temples and the theatres 
 crumbled down, and he left desolation behind him ; so that, 
 before he had even reached the age of manhood, the words of 
 the genius were fulfilled. 
 
 At that time the old King of Hungary happened to die, 
 leaving no heirs to ascend his throne. Anarchy desolated the 
 land. The nobles, who were at variance as to whom they 
 were to elect, having heard, in some mysterious way, that 
 their beautiful Princess was still alive, and that the great 
 conqueror who was at that time plundering Rome was her son, 
 sent an embassy to the Princess, asking her to return to her 
 country, and begging her, as a boon, to accept the crown for 
 her child. 
 
 The Princess, whose name was Mor-Lak (the Daughter of 
 Misfortune), lived to a good old age. When she died she left 
 her name to the sea and to the channel, the waters of which 
 bathe the town in which she dwelt ; therefore, the people who 
 live thereabouts are, to this day, called Morlacchi. If they have 
 no more canine ears, their hair is still as tawny as that of the 
 dog-king, though all the other Dalmatians are dark. Moreover, 
 if you go to Starigrad you can see, as I told you, the ruins of the 
 Torre Vezza, the fairy tower where the virgin's son was born ; 
 likewise the huge chasms of the Ruino and the Sveti Berdo, the 
 holy mountain where the Afrites slid down, in remembrance 
 of which the inhabitants still call them the Paklenizza Malo 
 and the Paklenizza Veliko, or, the Gorges of the Big and the 
 Little Devil. 
 
 A few days afterwards, the captain bade the young men good- 
 bye, and started for Fiume, whilst they, having their cargo 
 ready, set sail for Odessa. The weather was fine, the wind 
 was fair ; therefore, the first voyage during which they were in 
 sole command of the ship was a most prosperous, though a 
 rather rough one. For during four days they had shipped 
 several seas, so that they had the water up to their waists, 
 and, with all that, no water to drink ; but these are the 
 incidents appertaining to a seafaring life, which sailors forget 
 as soon as they set foot on shore.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE "KARVARINA 
 
 Radonic had never been much of a favourite amongst his 
 fellow countrymen, for he was of an unsociable, surly,, over- 
 bearing disposition ; still, from the day he had killed Vranic 
 public opinion began to change in his behalf. A man gifted 
 with an evil eye is a baleful being, whom everyone dreads 
 meeting — a real curse in a town, for a number of the daily 
 accidents and trivial misfortunes were ascribed to the malign 
 influence of his visual organs. It was, therefore, but natural 
 that Radonic should, tacitly, be looked upon as a kind of 
 deliverer. Besides this unavowed feeling of relief at having 
 been rid of the jettatore, no one could feel any pity for Vranic ; 
 for even the more indifferent could only shrug their shoulders, 
 and mutter to themselves, " Serve him right," for he had only 
 met with the fate he had deserved. 
 
 As for Radonic, he daily grew in the general esteem. There 
 is something manly in the life of a highwayman who, with his 
 gun, stops a whole caravan, or asks for bread, his dagger in 
 his hand. It is a reversion to the old type of prehistoric man. 
 But, more than a highwayman, Radonic was a hcyduk, fighting 
 against the Turks, and putting his life in jeopardy at every 
 step he made. 
 
 For a man of Radonic's frame of mind, there was some- 
 thing enticing in the life he was leading ; struggles and storms 
 seemed congenial to his nature. On board his ship he would 
 only cast away his sullenness when danger was approaching, 
 and hum a tune in the midst of the tempest ; in fact, he only 
 seemed to breathe at ease when a stiff gale was blowing. 
 
 He arrived at Cettinje on the eve of an expedition against 
 the Turks, just when every man that could bear a gun was 
 welcome, especially when he made no claim to a share of the 
 booty. Having reached the confines of Montenegro, amidst 
 those dark rocks, in that eyrie of the brave, having the sky for 
 
 1 6 — 2
 
 244 POBRA TIM 
 
 his roof and his gun for a pillow, life for the first time seemed 
 to him worth living. He did not fear death — nay, he almost 
 courted it. He felt no boding cares for the morrow ; the 
 present moment was more than enough for him. Though 
 he lacked entirely all the softness of disposition that renders 
 social life agreeable, he had in him some of the qualities of 
 a hero, or, at least, of a great military chief — boldness, hardi- 
 hood and valour. During the whole of his lifetime he had 
 always tried to make himself feared, never loved. He cared 
 neither for the people's admiration nor for their disdain ; he 
 only required implicit obedience to orders given. With such 
 a daring, unflinching character, he soon acquired a name that 
 spread terror whenever it was uttered ; and in a skirmish that 
 took place a week after his arrival at Cettinje, he killed a 
 Turkish chieftain, cut off his head, and sent it, by a prisoner 
 he had taken, to the Pasha of the neighbouring province, in- 
 forming this official that he would, if God granted him life, 
 soon treat him in the same way. A high sum was at once 
 set upon his head, but it was an easier thing to offer the prize 
 than to obtain it. 
 
 Radonic would have been happy enough now, had he not 
 been married, or, at least, if he had been wedded to a woman 
 who loved him, and who would have welcomed him home after 
 a day's, or a week's, hard fighting — who would have mourned 
 for him had he never come back ; but, alas ! he knew that 
 Milena hated him. Roaming in the lonely forests, climbing on 
 the trackless mountains, lurking amidst the dark rocks and 
 crags, his heart yearned for the wife he had ill-treated. 
 
 A month, and even more, had elapsed since Vranic had been 
 murdered. Zwillievic, his father-in-law, had been in Budua, 
 and he had then come back to Cettinje ; but, far from bringing 
 Milena with him, he had left his wife there to take care of 
 this daughter of his, who, in the state in which she was, had 
 never recovered from the terrible shock she had received on 
 that morning when she stumbled upon Vranic's corpse. 
 
 All kinds of doubts again assailed him, and jealousy, that 
 had always been festering in his breast, burst out afresh, 
 fiercer than ever ; it preyed again upon him, embittered his 
 life. After all, was it not possible that Milena was only 
 shamming simply not to come to Cettinje ? Perhaps, he 
 thought, one of the many young men who had tried to flirt 
 with her, was now at Budua making love to her.
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 245 
 
 He, therefore, made up his mind to brave the pamdoiirs (the 
 Austrian police), to meet with the anger of Vranic's brothers, 
 just to see Milena again, and find out how she fared, and what 
 she was doing. He, one evening, started from Cettinje, went 
 down the steep road leading to the sea-shore, got to the gates 
 of the town at nightfall, and, wrapped in his great-coat, with 
 his hood pulled down over his eyes, he crossed the town and 
 reached his house. 
 
 He stopped at the window and looked in ; Milena was no- 
 where to be seen. He was seized by a dreadful foreboding — 
 what if he had come too late ? Two women were standing 
 near the door of the inner room, talking. He, at first, could 
 hardly recognise them by the glimmering light of the oil-lamp ; 
 still, after having got nearer the window, he saw that one of 
 them was Mara Bellacic, and the other his mother-in-law. 
 
 He then went to the door, tapped gently, and pushed it 
 open ; seeing him, both the women started back astonished. 
 
 His first question was, of course, about his wife. She was a 
 little better, they said, but still very ill. 
 
 " She is asleep now. You can come in and see her, but take 
 care not to wake her," added Milena's mother. 
 
 " Yes," quoth Mara, " take care, for should she wake and see 
 you so unexpectedly, the shock might be fatal." 
 
 Radonic went noiselessly up to the door of the bedroom and 
 peeped in. Seeing Milena lying motionless on the bed, pale, 
 thin and haggard, he was seized with a feeling of deep pity, 
 such as he had never felt before in the whole of his life, and he 
 almost cursed the memory of his mother, for she had been 
 the first to set him against his wife, and had induced him to 
 be so stern and harsh towards her. 
 
 He skulked about that night, and on the following day he sent 
 for Bellacic, for Markovic, and for some kinsmen and acquaint- 
 ances, and asked them to help him out of his difficulties. 
 They at once persuaded him to try and make it up with 
 Vranic's relations, to pay the karvarina money, and thus hush 
 up the whole aff"air. 
 
 While public opinion was favourable to him, it would be 
 easy enough to find several persons to speak in his behalf, to 
 act as mediators or umpires, and settle the price to be paid for 
 the blood that had been spilt. 
 
 Although the Montenegrins and the inhabitants of the Kotar, 
 as well as almost all Dalmatians, are — like the Corsicans —
 
 246 POBRA TIM 
 
 justly deemed a proud race, amongst whom e\ery wrong must 
 be washed out with blood, and although they all have a strong 
 sense of honour, so that revenge becomes a sacred duty, 
 jealously transmitted from one generation to another, still the 
 old Biblical way of settling all litigations with fines, and putting 
 a price for the loss of life, is still in full force amongst them. 
 
 In the present case Vranic's brothers were quite willing to 
 come to a compromise, that is to say, to give up all thoughts 
 of vengeance, provided, after all the due formalities had taken 
 place, an adequate sum were paid to them. First, they had 
 never been fond of their brother ; secondly, they knew quite 
 well that Radonic was fully justified in what he had done, and 
 that, moreover, everybody commended him for his rash deed ; 
 thirdly, having inherited their brother's property, the little 
 sorrow they had felt for him the first moment had quite passed 
 away. 
 
 Markovic and Bellacic set themselves to work at once. 
 Their first care was to find six young and, possibly, handsome 
 women, with six babes, who, acting as friends to Radonic, 
 would go to Vranic's brothers and intercede for him. 
 
 It was rather a difficult task, for Radonic had few friends at 
 Budua. All the sailors that had been with him had not only 
 rued the time spent on his ship, but had been enemies to him 
 ever afterwards. He had married a wife from Montenegro, 
 envied for her beauty, and not much liked by the gentler sex. 
 Milena had been too much admired by men for women to 
 take kindly to her ; still, as she was now on a bed of sickness, 
 and all her beauty blasted, envy had changed into pity. 
 
 After no end of trouble, many promises of silk kerchiefs, 
 yards of stuff for dresses, or other trifles, six rather good- 
 looking women, and the same number of chubby babies, were 
 mustered, and, on a day appointed for the purpose, they were 
 to go, together with Markovic and Bellacic, to sue for peace. 
 
 In the meanwhile Radonic had stealthily called on a number 
 of persons, had invited them to drink with him, related to them 
 the number of Turks he had shot, and by sundry means 
 managed to dispose them in his favour. They, by their in- 
 fluence, tried to pacify the Vranic family, and a month's truce 
 was granted to Radonic, during which time the preliminaries 
 of peace were undertaken. 
 
 At last, after many consultations and no end of smooth talk- 
 ing, the day for the ceremony of the karvarina was fixed upon.
 
 POBRATIM 247 
 
 Markovic and Bellacic, together with the six women, carrying 
 their babes and followed by a crowd of spectators, went up to 
 Vranic's house. As soon as they got to the door, the women 
 fell down on their knees, bowing down their heads, and, whilst 
 the babes began to shriek lustily, the men called out, in a loud 
 voice : 
 
 " Vranic, our brother in God and in St. John, we greet you ! 
 Take pity on us, and allow us to come within your house." 
 
 Having repeated this request three times — during which the 
 women wailed and the babies shrieked always louder — the door 
 at last was opened, and the murdered man's two younger 
 brothers appeared on the threshold. 
 
 Though all the household had been for more than two 
 hours on the look-out for this embassy, still the two men put on 
 an astonished look, as if they had not the remotest idea as to 
 what it all meant, or why or wherefore the crowd had gathered 
 round their house. 
 
 Standing on the threshold they inquired of the men what 
 they wanted, after which they went and, taking every woman 
 by the hand, made her get up ; then, imprinting a kiss on 
 every howling babe, they tried to soothe and quiet it. This 
 ceremony over, the women were begged to enter the house and 
 be seated. Once inside, Bellacic, acting as chief intercessor, 
 handed to the Vranics six yards of fine cloth which Radonic 
 had provided him with, this being one of the customary peace 
 offerings. Then, taking a big bottle of plum brandy from the 
 hands of one of his attendants, he poured out a glass and 
 offered it to the master of the house ; the glass went round, 
 and the house soon echoed with the shouts of " Zivio ! " or 
 " Long life ! " and the merriment increased in the same ratio 
 as the spirits in the huge bottle decreased. 
 
 When everybody was in a boisterous good-humour — except 
 the two Vranics, for strong drink only rendered them peevish 
 and quarrelsome — the subject of the visit was broached. 
 
 Josko Vranic, the elder of the two brothers, would at first 
 not listen to Bellacic's request. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed he, in the flowery style of Eastern 
 mourners, " do you ask me to come to terms with Radonic, who 
 cruelly murdered my brother ? Do you wish me to press to my 
 heart the viper from whose teeth we still smart ? Do you think 
 I have no soul, no faith ? Oh ! my poor brother " — (he hated 
 him in his lifetime) — "my poor brother, murdered in the morning
 
 248 POBRATIM 
 
 of his life, in the spring of his youth, a star of beauty, a lion of 
 strength and courage ; had the murderer's hand but spared him, 
 what great things might he not have done ! Oh, my brother, 
 my beloved brother I No ; blood alone can avenge blood, and 
 his soul can never rest in peace till my dagger is sheathed 
 in his murderer's heart. No, Radonic must die ; blood for 
 blood ; life for life. I must find out the foul dog and strangle 
 him as he strangled my beloved brother, or I am no true Slav, 
 Tell me where he is, if you know, that I may tear him to pieces; 
 for nothing can arrest my arm ! " 
 
 Josko Vranic was a tailor, and a very peaceful kind of a 
 tailor into the bargain. It is true that, when his brain was 
 fuddled with drink, he was occasionally blood-thirsty; but his 
 rage expended itself far more in words than in deeds. For 
 the present, he was simply trying to act his part well, and 
 was only repeating hackneyed phrases often uttered in 
 houses of mourning, at funerals, and at wakes. 
 
 All his thoughts were bent on the sum of money he might 
 obtain for karvarina, and he, therefore, thought that the 
 more he magnified his grief, the greater would be the sum 
 he might ask for blood-money. 
 
 Bellacic and Markovic, as well as the other friends of both 
 parties gathered in the house, deemed it advisable to leave 
 him to give utterance to his grief. Then, when he had said 
 his say and the children were quieted, Radonic's friends began 
 to persuade him to forego all ideas of vengeance, and — after 
 much useless talking — many prayers from the women, and 
 threats from the babes to begin shrieking again, Vranic 
 agreed that he would try and smother his grief, nay, for 
 their sakes, forget his resentment ; therefore, after much 
 cogitation, he named a jury of twenty-four men to act as 
 arbitrators between him and the murderer, and settle the 
 price that was to be paid for the blood. This jury was, of 
 course, composed of persons that he thought hated Radonic, 
 and who would at least demand a sum equivalent to /"200 or 
 /"300. He little knew how much his own brother had been 
 disliked, and the low price that was set on his life. 
 
 These twenty-four persons having been appointed, Radonic 
 called upon all of them, and got them to meet at Bellacic's 
 house the day before the ceremony of the karvarina ; he 
 sent there some small barrels of choice wine, and provisions 
 of all kinds for the feast of that day, as well as for the
 
 POBRA TIM 249 
 
 banquet of the morrow, for he knew quite well that the 
 gall of a bitter enemy is less acrid after a good dinner, 
 and that an indifferent person becomes a friend when he is 
 chewing the cud of the dainty things you have provided 
 for him. 
 
 As soon as supper was over, and while the bucara of sweet 
 mtiscato wine was being handed round, Bellacic submitted 
 the case to the twenty-four arbiters, expatiated like a lawyer 
 on the heinous way Vranic had acted, how like a real snake 
 he had crept between husband and wife, trying to put 
 enmity between them, and how he had succeeded in his 
 treachery, doing all this to seduce a poor distracted woman. 
 
 " Now," continued Bellacic, " put yourselves in Radonic's 
 place and tell me how you yourselves would have acted. If 
 you have the right to shoot the burglar who, in the dead of 
 night, breaks into your house to rob you of your purse, is it 
 not natural that you should throttle the ruffian who, under the 
 mantle of friendship, sneaks into your bedroom to rob you of 
 your honour ? Is the life of such a man worth more than that 
 of the scorpion you crush under your heel ? Vranic was neither 
 my friend nor my enemy ; therefore, I have no earthly reason to 
 set you against him, nor to induce you to be friendly towards 
 Radonic. I only ask you to be just, and to tell me the worth of 
 the blood he has spilt." 
 
 Bellacic stopped for a moment to see the effect of his speech 
 on his listeners. All seemed to approve his words no less than 
 they did the sweet wine of the bucara; then after a slight pause, 
 he again went on. 
 
 " Radonic may have many faults, nay, he has many ; are we 
 not all of us full of blemishes ? Still, the poor that will be fed 
 for many days from the crumbs of our feast will surely not say 
 that he is a miser. Still — withal he is lavish — one thing he is 
 fully determined not to do, that is to pay more for the blood he 
 has spilt than it is really worth. 
 
 "It is true that the heirs of the dead man are filling the 
 whole town with their laments ; but do you think that those 
 who mourn so loudly would gladly welcome their brother back, 
 nay, I ask you how many hands would be stretched out to greet 
 Vranic if the grave were to yawn and give up the dead man. 
 Who, within his innermost heart, is not really glad to have got 
 rid of a man who carried an evil influence with him whitherso- 
 ever he went ?
 
 250 POBRA riM 
 
 " But speaking the truth in this case is ahnost Uke trying 
 to set you against the exaggerated claims of the late man's 
 brothers ; whilst you all know quite well that I only wish you 
 to act according to your better judgment, and whatever your 
 decision be, we shall abide by it. You are husbands, you 
 are Slavs ; the honour of your homes, of your children, of 
 your wives is dear to you ; therefore, I drink to your honour 
 with Radonic's wine." 
 
 As the bucara could not go round fast enough, so glasses 
 were filled, and toasts were drunk. After that, Bellacic left 
 the room, so that the jury might discuss the matter under no 
 restraint. Although twenty of the men were in favour of 
 Radonic, still four thought that the arguments used in his 
 favour had been so brilliant that Bellacic had rather charmed 
 than convinced them. They were, however, overruled by the 
 many, and the bumpers they swallowed in the heat of the argu- 
 ment ended by convincing them, too. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Bellacic, coming back, " I shall not ask 
 you now if Vranic's life was worth a herd or a single cow, a 
 flock or a single sheep, or even a goat, for here is Teodoroff, 
 the guzlar, who is going to enliven us with the glorious battle 
 of Kossovo, and the great deeds of our immortal Kraglievic. 
 
 The bard came in, and he was listened to with rapt attention 
 during the half-hour that his poem lasted. No one spoke, or 
 drank, or even moved ; all remained as if spell-bound ; their 
 eyes seemed to seek for the words as they flowed from the 
 poet's lips. At last the guzlar stopped, and after a few 
 moments of silence, shouts of applause broke forth. Just 
 then Radonic came into the room, and the twenty-four men 
 all shook hands with him heartily, and, excited as the 
 audience was with the daring deeds of Marko Kraglievic, 
 Bellacic made him relate some of his encounters with the 
 Turks, and show the holes in his coat through which the 
 bullets had passed. 
 
 " And now, Teodoroff," said Radonic, finishing the story of 
 his exploits, "give us something lively; I think we've had 
 enough of bloodshed for the whole evening." 
 
 " Yes," added Bellacic ; " but let us first finish the business 
 for which we have been brought together, and then we can 
 devote the remainder of our time to pleasure." 
 
 " Yes," retorted one of the twenty-four arbitrators, " it's 
 time the matter was settled.'
 
 POBRATIM 251 
 
 " Well, then," quoth Markovic, " what is the price of the 
 jettatore's life ? " 
 
 "As for me," said one of the younger men, "it's certainly not 
 worth that of a cow ! " 
 
 " No, nor that of a goat I " added another. 
 
 " Well, let's be generous towards the tailor," said Bellacic, 
 laughing, " and settle his brother's life at the price of a huge 
 silver Maria Theresa dollar, eh ? " 
 
 Some of the arbitrators were about to demur, but as the 
 proposal had come from them, they could not well gainsay it. 
 
 " Then it's settled," said Bellacic, hastening to fill the 
 glasses ; " and now, Teodoroff, quick ! give us one of your 
 best songs ; something brisk and lively." 
 
 The guzlar took up his instrument, played a few bars as a 
 kind of prelude, emitted a prolonged " Oh ! " which ended away 
 in a trill, and then began the tale of 
 
 MARKO KRAGLIEVIC AND JANKO OF SEBINJE. 
 
 Two brave and bonny knights, both bosom friends, 
 
 Were Marko Kraglievic of deathless fame. 
 
 And Janko of Sebinje, fair and wise. 
 
 Both seemed to have been cast within one mould, 
 
 For no two brothers could be more alike. 
 
 One day, as they were chatting o'er their wine. 
 
 Fair Janko said unto his faithful friend : 
 
 " My wife has keener eyes than any man's, 
 
 And sharper wits besides ; our sex is dull ; 
 
 No man has ever played a trick on her." 
 
 Then Marko, smiling, said : " Do let me try 
 
 To match, in merry sport, my wits 'gainst hers." 
 
 " 'Tis well," quoth Janko, with a winsome smile, 
 
 " But, still, beware of woman's subtle guile." 
 
 Then 'twixt the friends a wager soon was laid ; 
 
 Fair Janko pledged his horse, a stallion rare, 
 
 A fleet and milk-white steed, Kula by name. 
 
 And with his horse he pledged his winsome wife ; 
 
 Whilst, for his wager, Marko pawned his head. 
 
 " Now, one thing more ; lend me thy clothes," said Mark, 
 
 " Thy jewelled weapons, and thy milk-white steed." 
 
 And Janko doffed, and Marko donned the clothes, 
 
 Then buckled on his friend's bright scimitar. 
 
 As soon as Janko's wife spied him from far. 
 
 She thought it was her husband, and ran out; 
 
 But then she stopped, for something in his mien. 
 
 Which her quick eye perceived, proclaimed at once 
 
 That warlike knight upon her husband's horse
 
 252 POBRA TIM 
 
 To be the outward show, the glittering garb 
 
 And a fair mirage of the man she loved. 
 
 Thereon within her rooms she hied in haste, 
 
 And to her help she called her trusty maid. 
 
 " O Kumbra, sister mine," she said to her, 
 
 " I know not why, but Janko seems so wroth. 
 
 Put on my finest clothes, and hie to him." 
 
 When Marko saw the maid, he turned aside. 
 
 And wrapped himself within his wide kalpak. 
 
 Then said that he would fain be left alone. 
 
 He thought, in sooth, that she was Janko's wife. 
 
 A dainty meal was soon spread for the knight. 
 
 The lady called again her trusted maid. 
 
 And thus she spake : " My Kumbra, for this night 
 
 Sleep in my room, nay, in my very bed. 
 
 And, for the deed that I demand of thee, 
 
 This purse of gold is thine. Besides this gift. 
 
 Thou henceforth wilt be free." The maiden bowed. 
 
 And said : " My lady's wish is law for me." 
 
 Now Marko at his meal sat all alone. 
 
 When he had supped he went into the room 
 
 Where Kumbra was asleep ; there he sat down. 
 
 And passed the whole long night upon a chair, 
 
 Close by the young girl's bed. He seemed to be 
 
 A father watching o'er his sickly child. 
 
 But when the gloaming shed its glimmering light. 
 
 The knight arose ; he went, with stealthy steps. 
 
 And cut a lock from off the young girl's head. 
 
 Which he at once hid in his breast, with care. 
 
 Before the maiden woke he left the house. 
 
 And rode full-speed back to his bosom friend. 
 
 Still, ere he had alighted from his horse : 
 
 " You've lost ! " said Janko, with his winsome smile. 
 
 " I've won ! " quoth Marko, with a modest grace ; 
 
 " Here is the token that I've won my bet." 
 
 And Janko took the golden curl, amazed. 
 
 Just then a page, who rode his horse full-speed. 
 
 Came panting up, and, on his bended knee. 
 
 He handed to his lord a parchment scroll. 
 
 The letter thus began : " O husband mine. 
 
 Why sendest thou such pert and graceless knights. 
 
 That take thy manor for a roadside inn. 
 
 And in the dead of night clip Kumbra's locks ? " 
 
 Thereon, in sprightly style, the wife then wrote 
 
 All that had taken place the day before. 
 
 And Janko, as he read, began to laugh. 
 
 Then, turning to his friend : " Sir Knight," quoth he 
 
 " Have henceforth greater care of thine own head, 
 
 Which now, by right and law, belongs to me.
 
 POBRA TIM 253 
 
 Beware of woman, for the wisest man 
 Has not the keenness of a maiden's eye. 
 Come, now, I pledge thy health in foaming wine, 
 For this, indeed, hath been a merry joke." 
 
 The greater part of the night was passed in drinking and in 
 listening to the bard's songs. Little by little sleepiness and 
 the fumes of the wine overpowered each single man, so that 
 in the small hours almost all the guests were stretched on 
 the mats that strewed the floor, fast asleep. 
 
 On the morrow the twenty-four men of the jury went, all in a 
 body, to Vranic's house. They sat down in state and listened 
 to the tale of the brothers' grievances, whilst they sipped very 
 inferior slivovitz and gravely smoked their long pipes. When 
 the tailor ended the oft-repeated story of his grief and 
 grievances, then they went back to Bellacic's house, where 
 they gave ear to all the extenuating circumstances which 
 Radonic brought forward to exculpate himself. After the 
 culprit had finished, the twenty-four men sat down in council, 
 and discussed again the matter which had been settled the 
 evening before. 
 
 A slight, but choice, repast was served to them ; and Radonic 
 took care that no fault could be found with the wine, for he 
 feared that they might, in their soberer senses, change their 
 mind and reverse their opinion. 
 
 The dinner had been cooked to perfection, the wine was of 
 the best, the arguments Radonic had brought forward to clear 
 himself were convincing — even the four that had been wavering 
 the evening before were quite for him now. The majority of 
 these men were married, and jealous of their honour ; the 
 others were going to marry, and were even more jealous than 
 the married men. If Radonic could not be absolved entirely, 
 still he could hardly be condemned. 
 
 Thus the day passed in much useless talking and discussing, 
 and night came on. At sundown the guests began to pour in, 
 and soon the house was crowded. A deputation was then sent 
 to the Vranic family to beg them to come to the feast. The 
 tailor at first demurred ; but being pressed he yielded, and 
 came with his brother. 
 
 The evening began with the Karva-Kolo, or the blood-dance. 
 It is very like the usual Kolo, only the music, especially in the 
 beginning, is a kind of funeral march, or a dirge ; soon the 
 movement gets brisker, until it changes into the usual Kolo
 
 254 POBRA TIM 
 
 strain. The orchestra that evening was a choice one ; it con- 
 sisted of two guzlas, a dipla or bag-pipe, and a sfiraliza or 
 Pan's seven-reeded flute. Later on there was even a triangle, 
 which kept admirable time. 
 
 A couple of dancers began, another joined in, and so on, 
 until the circle widened, and then all the people who were too 
 lazy to dance had either to leave the room or stand close 
 against the wall, so as not to be in the way. Just when the 
 dance had reached its height, and the men were twirling the 
 girls about as in the mazy evolutions of the cotillon, Radonic, 
 who had kept aloof, burst into the room. A moment of con- 
 fusion ensued, the dancers stopped, the middle of the room was 
 cleared, the music played again a low dirge. The guilty man 
 stood alone, abashed ; around his neck, tied to a string, he 
 wore the dagger with which he might have stabbed Vranic had 
 he not throttled him. 
 
 As soon as he appeared two of the twenty-four arbitrators, 
 who had been on the look-out for him, rushed and seized him. 
 Then, feigning a great wrath, they dragged him towards Vranic, 
 as if they had just captured him and brought him to be tried. 
 
 " Drag that murderer away, cast him out of the house ; or, 
 rather, leave him to me. Let me kill him." 
 
 " Forgive me," exclaimed Radonic. 
 
 " Down upon him ! " cried Vranic. 
 
 The arbitrators thereupon made the culprit bow down so low 
 that his head nearly touched the floor ; then all the assembly 
 uttered a deep sigh, or rather, a wail, craving — in the name of 
 the Almighty and of good St. John — forgiveness for the guilty 
 man. 
 
 " Forgiveness," echoed Radonic, for the third time. 
 
 The dancers, who had again begun to walk in rhythmic step 
 around the room, forming a kind of chassez-croisez, stopped, 
 and the music died away in a low moan. 
 
 There was a moment of eager theatrical expectation. The 
 murdered man's brother seemed undecided as to what he had 
 to do ; at last, after an inward struggle, he yielded to his better 
 feelings, and going up to Radonic, he took him by the hand, 
 lifted him up and kissed him on his forehead. 
 
 A sound of satisfaction, like a sigh of relief, passed through 
 the assembly ; but then Vranic said, in a voice which he tried 
 to render sweet and soft : 
 
 " Listen, all of you. This man, who has hitherto been my
 
 POBRATIM 255 
 
 bitterest enemy, has now become my friend ; nay, more than 
 my friend, my very brother, and not to me alone, but to all 
 who were related to my beloved brother. All shall forego every 
 wish or idea of revenge, now and hereafter." 
 
 Thereupon, taking a very small silver coin, he cut it in two, 
 gave Radonic half, and kept the other for himself, as a pledge 
 of the friendship he had just sworn. 
 
 When peace had been restored, and everybody had drunk 
 to Radonic's and Vranic's health, then the Starescina , or the 
 oldest arbitrator, whose judgment was paramount, stood up and 
 made a speech, in which he uttered the decision of the jury and 
 the sentence of the karvarina, that is to say, that, taking into 
 consideration all the extenuating circumstances under which 
 the murder had been committed, Radonic was to pay to 
 Vranic the sum of a silver Maria Theresa dollar, the usual 
 price of a goat. 
 
 " What I " cried the tailor, in a fit of unsuppressed rage ; 
 " do you mean to say that my brother's life was only worth 
 that of a goat ? " 
 
 A slight, subdued tittering was heard amongst the crowd ; 
 for, indeed, it was almost ludicrous to see the little man, pale, 
 trembling and almost green with rage. 
 
 " No," quoth the umpire, gravely ; " I never said that your 
 brother's life was worth that of a whole herd or of a single 
 goat ; the price that we, arbitrators named by you, have con- 
 demned Radonic to pay is a silver dollar. Put yourself in the 
 murderer's place, and tell us what you would have done." 
 
 Vranic shrugged his shoulders scornfully. 
 
 " We do not appeal to you alone, but to any man of honour, 
 to any lugo Slav, to any husband of the Kotar. What would 
 he have done to a man who, pretending to be his friend, came 
 by stealth, in the middle of the night, into his home to " 
 
 " Then," cried Vranic, in that shrill, womanish voice peculiar 
 to all his family, " it is not my brother that ought to have been 
 killed. Was he to blame if he was enticed " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Radonic, clasping the haft of 
 the dagger, which he ought to have given up to Vranic. 
 
 " Silence ! " said the umpire : " you forget that you have 
 promised to love — —'" 
 
 " If you intend to speak of Milena," said Bellacic, interrupting 
 the judge, " you must remember that the evening upon which 
 your brother was killed she was spending the evening "
 
 256 POBRATIM 
 
 " At your house ? No ! " said Vranic, with a scornful laugh, 
 shrugging his shoulders again. 
 
 " Come, come," said one of the jury ; " let's settle the 
 karvarina.'^ 
 
 " Besides," added another arbitrator, ingenuously, " Radonic 
 has been put to the expense of more than fifty goats. Until 
 now, no man has ever " 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " interrupted the tailor, with a withering sneer; 
 " he has bribed the few friends my poor brother had, so now 
 even those have turned against him." 
 
 Oaths, curses, threats were uttered by the twenty - four 
 men, and the younger and more hasty ones instinctively 
 sought the handles of their daggers. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Bellacic, " supper is ready ; the two 
 men have sworn to be friends " 
 
 " I've sworn nothing at all," muttered the tailor, between 
 his teeth. 
 
 " Let us sit down," continued the master of the house, 
 " and try to forget our present quarrels ; we'll surely come 
 to a better understanding when cakes flowing with honey 
 and sweet wine are brought on the table." 
 
 They now carried in for the feast several low, stool-like 
 tables, serving both as boards and dishes. On each one 
 there was a whole roasted lamb, resting on a bed of rice. 
 Every guest took out his dagger and carved for himself the 
 piece he liked best or the one he could easiest reach, and 
 which he gnawed, holding the bdne as a handle, if there 
 was one, or using the flat, pancake-like bread — the chupatti 
 of the Indians, the flap -jacks of the Turks — as plates. 
 Soon the wooden bukaras were handed around, and then 
 all ill-humour was drowned in the head}'' wine of the rich 
 Dalmatian soil. After the lambs and rice, big sirloins of 
 beef and huge tunny-fish followed in succession, then game, 
 and lastly, pastry and fruit. 
 
 After more than two hours of eating and drinking, with inter- 
 ludes of singing and shouting, the meal at last came to an 
 end. The gentlemen of the jury, whose brains had been more 
 or less muddled from the day before, were now, almost with- 
 out any exception, quite drunk. As for the guests, some were 
 jovial and boisterous, others tender and sentimental. Radonic's 
 face was saturnine ; Markovic, who was always loquacious, 
 and who spoke in Italian when drunk, was making a long
 
 POBRATIM 257 
 
 speech that had never had a beginning and did not seem 
 to come to an end ; and the worst of it was that, during the 
 whole time, he clasped tightly one of the bukaras, and would 
 not relinquish his hold of it. 
 
 As for Vranic and his younger brother, they had both sunk 
 down on the floor sulky and silent. The more they ate and 
 drank, the more weazened and wretched they looked, and 
 the expression of malice on their angry faces deepened their 
 wrinkles into a fiendish scowl. 
 
 " I think," said the elder brother, " it is time all this was 
 over, and that we should be going." 
 
 "Going?" exclaimed all the guests who heard it. "And 
 where do you want to go ? " 
 
 " Oh, if he isn't comfortable, let him go ! " said one of the 
 arbitrators. "I'm sure I don't want to detain him; his face 
 isn't so pleasant to look at that we should beg him to stay — no, 
 nor his company either." 
 
 " Oh, I daresay you would like to get rid of me, all of you ! " 
 
 " Well, then, shall we wind up this business ? " said the 
 judge of the karvarina, putting his hand on Radonic's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " I am quite ready," said he. 
 
 Thereupon he drew forth his leather purse and took out 
 several Maria Theresa dollars. 
 
 " Shall we make it five instead of one ? " he asked, spreading 
 out the new and shining coins on his broad palm. " Now, tell 
 me, tailor, if I am niggardly with my money ? " he added, 
 handing the sum to Vranic. 
 
 The tailor seized the dollars and clenched his fist ; then, with 
 a scowl : 
 
 " I don't want any of your charity," he hissed out in a shrill 
 treble. " Five are almost worth six goats, and my brother is 
 worth but one. Here, take your money back ; distribute it 
 among the arbitrators, to whom you have been so generous. 
 No, heyduk, you are not niggardly ; but, then, what are 
 a few dollars to you ? a shot of your gun and your purse is 
 full. Thanks all the same, I only want my due. No robber's 
 charity for me." And with these words he flung the five 
 dollars in Radonic's face. 
 
 The sharp edge of one of the coins struck Radonic on the 
 corner of the eye, just under the brow, and the blood trickled 
 down. All his drunkenness vanished, his gloomy look took 
 
 17
 
 258 POBRA TIM 
 
 a fierce expression, and with a bound he was about to seize his 
 antagonist by the throat and strangle him as he had done his 
 brother ; but Vranic, who was on his guard, lifted up the knife 
 he had received from the murderer a few hours before, and 
 quick as lightning struck him a blow on his breast. 
 
 " This is my karvarina," said he ; " tooth for tooth, eye for 
 eye, blood for blood." 
 
 The blow had been aimed at Radonic's heart, but he 
 parried it and received a deep gash in the fore-part of 
 his arm, 
 
 A scuffle at once ensued ; some of the less drunken men 
 threw themselves on Vranic, others on Radonic. 
 
 " Sneak, traitor, coward ! " shouted the chief arbitrator, 
 striking Vranic in the face and almost knocking him down ; 
 " how dare you do such a thing after having begged us to 
 settle the karvarina for you ? " 
 
 " And you've settled it nicely, indeed ; gorged with his meat, 
 drunk with his wine, and your purses filled with his money." 
 
 " Liar!" shouted the men of the jury. 
 
 " Out of my house, you scorpion, and never cross its 
 threshold again." 
 
 "I go, and I'm only too glad to be rid of you all;^but 
 as for you," said Vranic to Bellacic, " had it not been for 
 you, all this would not have happened." 
 
 " What have I to do with it ? " 
 
 " Did you not come to beg me to make it up ? But I suppose 
 you were anxious to have the whole affair hushed up as quickly 
 as possible." 
 
 "Fool!" answered Bellacic. 
 
 " Oh, Milena is not always at your house for nothing!" 
 
 " What did he say ? " asked Radonic, trying to break away 
 from the hands of the men who were holding him, and from 
 Mara Bellacic, who was bandaging up his wound. 
 
 "What do you care what he said?" replied Bellacic; "his 
 slander only falls back upon himself, just as if he were 
 spitting in the wind ; it can harm neither you nor Milena." 
 
 " Oh, we shall meet again I" cried Radonic. 
 
 " We shall certainly meet, if ever you escape the Turkish 
 gallows, or the Austrian prisons." 
 
 And as he uttered these last words, he disappeared in the 
 darkness of the road.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A COWARD S VENGEANCE 
 
 When the pohratim returned to Budua they found the whole 
 town divided into two camps, and, consequently, in a state of 
 open war. Since the evening of the karvarina two parties had 
 formed themselves, the Vranites and the Radonites. The first, 
 indeed, were few, and did not consist of friends of Vranic, but 
 simply of people who had a grudge, not only against Radonic, 
 but against Bellacic and the twenty-four men of the jury, who 
 were accused of peculation. On the whole, public opinion 
 was bitter against the tailor, for, after having made peace with 
 his enemy, he had tried to murder him ; then — as if this had 
 not been enough — he had gone on the morrow and given warn- 
 ing to the police that Radonic, who had cowardly murdered 
 his brother, had returned to Budua, and was walking about the 
 streets unpunished ; moreover, that the heyduk had threatened 
 to murder him, so he came to appeal for protection. 
 
 This happened when Budua had just been incorporated with 
 the Austrian empire, and the people, jealous of their customs, 
 looked upon the protection of the government as an officious 
 intermeddling with their own private affairs, and strongly 
 resented their being treated as children unable to act for them- 
 selves. 
 
 Although a few crimes had been left unpunished, simply not 
 to rouse at once the general feeling against its present masters, 
 still the new jurisdiction was bent upon putting a stop to 
 the practice of the karvarina; and to make this primitive 
 country understand that, under a civilised form of government, 
 people paid taxes to be protected by wise and just laws ; there- 
 fore, it was the duty of a well-regulated police to discover and 
 punish equitably all offences done to any particular man. 
 
 In the present case, where notice was brought to the police 
 of facts that had happened, and aid was requested, steps had 
 
 17—2
 
 26o POBRA riM 
 
 to be taken to secure the person of the offender, and, therefore, 
 to have Radonic arrested at once for manslaughter. 
 
 Friends, however, came at once to inform Radonic of what 
 had taken place, advising him to take flight, and put at once 
 the border mountains of Montenegro between himself and the 
 Austrian police. 
 
 The officials gave themselves and, what was far worse, every- 
 body else no end of trouble and annoyance with Vranic's case. 
 They went about arresting wrong persons, as a well-regulated 
 police sometimes does, and then, after much bother and many 
 cross-examinations, everyone was set free, and the whole affair 
 dropped. 
 
 Milena, who was slowly recovering from her long illness, was 
 the first to be summoned to answer about her husband's crime. 
 Bellacic was after that accused of sheltering the murderer, and 
 threatened with fines, confiscation, imprisonment and other 
 such penalties ; then he was also set free. The twenty-four 
 men of the jury were next summoned ; but, as they had only 
 acted as peacemakers on behalf of Vranic, they, too, were 
 reprimanded, and then sent about their business. 
 
 After this Vranic's partisans dwindled every day, till at last he 
 found himself shunned by everyone. Even his customers began 
 to forsake him, and to have their clothes made by a more 
 fortunate competitor. At last he could not go out in the 
 streets without having the children scream out after him : 
 
 " Spy ! spy ! Austrian spy ! " 
 
 The clergy belonging to the Orthodox faith looked upon 
 the new law against the karvarina as an encroachment on 
 their privileges. A tithe of the price of blood-money always 
 went to the Church ; sundry candles had to be lighted to 
 propitiate, not God or Christ, but some of the lower deities 
 and mediators of the Christian creed. The law, which took 
 from them all interference in temporal matters, was a blow 
 to their authority and to their purses. Even if they were not 
 begged to act as arbitrators, they were usually invited as guests 
 to the feast, so that some pickings and perquisites were always 
 to be got. 
 
 Vranic obtained no satisfaction from the police, to whom he 
 had applied ; he was only treated as a cur by the whole popu- 
 lation, was nearly excommunicated by the Church, and looked 
 upon as an apostate from the saintly customs of the Ingo Slavs. 
 
 Taunted by his own family with having made a muddle of the
 
 POBRATIM 261 
 
 whole affair, treated with scornful disdain by friends and foes, 
 the poor tailor, who had never been very good-tempered, had 
 got to look upon all mankind as his enemies. 
 
 Thus it happened, one day, that Bellacic was at the coffee- 
 house with Markovic and some other friends, when Vranic 
 came in to get shaved. 
 
 " What I do you shear poodles and curs ? " he asked. 
 
 The loungers began to laugh. Vranic, whose face was being 
 lathered, ground his teeth and grunted. 
 
 " I say, has he a medal round his neck ? " 
 
 " What ! do they give a medal to spies ? " asked one of the 
 men. 
 
 " No," quoth Bellacic ; " but according to their law, no dog 
 is allowed to go about without a medal, which proves that he 
 has paid his taxes." 
 
 " Keep quiet," said the barber and kafedgee, " or I'll cut you ! " 
 
 " Do government dogs also pay taxes ? " said another man, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Ask the cur ! he'll tell you," replied Bellacic. 
 
 " Mind, Bellacic ! " squeaked out Vranic, who was now 
 shaved ; " curs have teeth ! " 
 
 " To grind, or to grin with ? " 
 
 •' By St. George and St. Elias ! I'll be revenged on all of 
 you, and you the very first ! " and livid with rage, grinding his 
 teeth, shaking his fist, Vranic left the coffee-house, followed by 
 the laughter of the by-standers, and the barking of the boys 
 outside. 
 
 " He means mischief! " quoth the kafedgee. 
 
 " When did he not mean mischief," replied Markovic, " or 
 his brother either ? " 
 
 " Don't speak of his brother." 
 
 " Why, he's dead and buried," 
 
 " The less you speak of some dead people, the better," and 
 the kafedgee crossed himself. 
 
 " He's a sly fox," said one of the men waiting to be shaved. 
 
 " Pooh ! foxes are sometimes taken in by an old goose, as the 
 story tells us." 
 
 Everybody knew the old story, but, as the barber was bent 
 upon telling it, his customers were obliged to listen. 
 
 Once upon a time, there was a little silver-grey hen, that 
 got into such an ungovernable fit of sulks, that she left the
 
 262 POBRA TIM 
 
 pleasant poultry-yard where she had been born and bred, and 
 escaped on to the highway by a gap in the hedge. The reason 
 of her ill-humour was that she had seen her lord and master 
 flirt with a moulting old hatching hen, and she had felt ruffled 
 at his behaviour. 
 
 " Surely, the only advantage that old hen has over me," she 
 soliloquised, " is a greater experience of life. If I can but see 
 a little more of the world, I, too, might be able to discuss 
 philosophical topics with my husband, instead of cackling 
 noisily over a new-laid egg. It is an undeniable fact that 
 home-keeping hens have only homely wits, and cocks are 
 only hen-pecked by hens of loftier minds than themselves, 
 and not by such common-place females who think that life 
 has no other aim than that of laying a fresh egg every daj'." 
 
 On the other side of the hedge she met a large turkey 
 strutting gravely about, spreading out his tail, making sundry 
 gurgling noises in his throat, puffing and swelling himself in 
 an apoplectic way, until he got of a bluish, livid hue about 
 his eyes, whilst his gills grew purple. 
 
 Surely, thought the little grey hen, that turkey must be 
 a doctor of divinity who knows the aim of life ; every word 
 that falls from his beak must be a priceless pearl. 
 
 The little silver-grey hen looked at him with the corner 
 of her eye, just as coquettish ladies are apt to do when they 
 look at you over the corners of their fans. 
 
 " I say, Mrs. Henny, whither are you bound, all alone ? " 
 said the old turkey, with his round eyes. 
 
 " I am bent upon seeing a little of the world and improving 
 my mind," said the little hen. 
 
 " A most laudable intention," said the turkey ; " and if you'll 
 permit me, young madam, I myself will accompany, or rather, 
 escort you in this journey, tour, or excursion of yours. And 
 if the little experience I have acquired can be of some slight 
 use to you " 
 
 " How awfully good of you ! " said the gushing little hen. 
 " Why, really, it would be too delightful ! " 
 
 As they went on their way the old turkey at once informed 
 the little hen that he was a professor of the Dovecot University, 
 and he at once began to expatiate learnedly about adjectives, 
 compounds, anomalous verbs, suffixes and prefixes, of objective 
 cases and other such interesting topics. She listened to him 
 for some time, although she could not catch the drift of his
 
 POBRATIM 263 
 
 speech. At last she came to the conclusion that all this 
 must be transcendental philosophy, so she repeated mechani- 
 cally to herself all the grave words he spouted, and of the 
 whole lecture she just made out a charming little phrase, 
 with which she thought she would crush her husband some 
 day or other. It was : " Don't run away with the idea that 
 I'm anomalous enough to be governed by objective cases, 
 for, after all, what's a husband but a prefix ? " 
 
 " And are you married ? " asked the little hen, as soon as 
 the turkey had stopped to take breath. 
 
 " I am," said the old turkey, with a sigh, " and although I 
 have a dozen wives, I must say I haven't yet found one 
 sympathetic listener amongst them." 
 
 " Are they worldly-minded ? " asked she. 
 
 " They are frivolous, they think that the aim of life is laying 
 
 eggs." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the little hen, scornfully. 
 
 As they went along, they met a gander, which looked at them 
 from over a palisade. 
 
 " I say, where are you two off to ? " 
 
 " We are bent upon seeing the world and improving our 
 minds." 
 
 " How delightful. Now tell me, would it be intruding if I 
 joined your party? I know they say: Two are company, and 
 three are not, still " 
 
 " They also say : The more the merrier," quoth the little 
 hen. 
 
 The turkey blushed purple, but he managed to keep his temper. 
 
 They went on together, and the gander, who was a great 
 botanist, told them the name of every plant they came across ; 
 and then he spoke very learnedly with the turkey about Greek 
 roots and Romance particles. 
 
 A little farther on they met a charming little drake with a 
 killing curled feather in his tail, quite an accroche-coeur. and 
 the little hen ogled him and scratched the earth so prettily with 
 her feet that at last she attracted the drake's notice. 
 
 After some cackling the little drake joined the tourists, not- 
 withstanding the gurgling of the turkey and the hissing of 
 the gander. 
 
 As they went on, they of course spoke of matrimony ; the 
 gander informed them that he was a bachelor, and the little 
 drake added that he was an apostle of free love, at which the
 
 264 POBRATIM 
 
 little hen blushed, the turkey puffed himself up until he nearly 
 burst, and the gander looked grave. The worst of it was, that 
 the little drake insisted on discussing his theories and trying to 
 make proselytes. 
 
 They were so intently attending to the little drake's wild 
 theories, that they hardly perceived a hare standing on his 
 hind legs, with his ears pricked up, listening to and looking 
 at them. 
 
 The hare, having heard that they were globe-trotters, bent 
 upon seeing the world and improving their minds, joined their 
 party at once ; they even, later on, took with them a tortoise 
 and a hedgehog. At nightfall, they arrived in a dense forest, 
 where they found a large hollow tree, in the trunk of which they 
 all took shelter. 
 
 The little hen ensconced herself in a comfortable corner, 
 and the drake nestled close by her ; the hare lay at her feet, 
 and the gander and turkey on either side. The tortoise and the 
 hedgehog huddled themselves up and blocked up the opening, 
 keeping watch lest harm should befall them. 
 
 They passed the greater part of the night awake, telling each 
 other stories ; and as it was in the dark, the tales they told 
 were such as could not well be repeated in the broad daylight. 
 
 Soon, however, the laughter was more subdued ; the chuckling 
 even stopped. Sundry other noises instead were heard; then 
 the drowsy voices of the story-tellers ceased ; they had all 
 fallen fast asleep. 
 
 Just then, while the night wind was shivering through the 
 boughs, and the moon was silvering the boles of the ash-trees, 
 or changing into diamonds the drops of dew in the buttercups 
 and bluebells, a young vixen invited a shaggj* wolf to come 
 and have supper with her. 
 
 " This," she said, stopping before the hollow tree, " is my 
 larder. You must take pot-luck, for I'm sure I don't know 
 what there is in it. Still, it is seldom empty." 
 
 The wolf tried to poke his nose in, but he was stopped by the 
 tortoise. 
 
 " They have rolled a stone at the door," said the wolf. 
 
 " So they have ; but we can cast it aside," quoth the vixen. 
 
 They tried to push the tortoise aside ; but he clung to the 
 sides of the tree with his claws, so that it was impossible to 
 remove him. 
 
 " Let's get over the stone," said the wolf.
 
 POBRA TIM 265 
 
 They did their best to get over the tortoise, but they were 
 met by the hedgehog. 
 
 " They've blocked up the place with brambles and thorns," 
 said the vixen. 
 
 " So they have," replied the wolf. 
 
 " What's to be done ? " asked the one. 
 
 " What's to be done ? " replied the other, 
 
 " I hear rascally robbers rummaging around," gurgled the 
 turkey-cock, in a deep, low tone. 
 
 " Did you hear that ? " asked the wolf. 
 
 " Yes," said the vixen, rather uneasy. 
 
 " We'll catch them, we'll catch them," cackled the hen. 
 
 " For we are six, we are six," echoed the drake. 
 
 " There are six of them," said the vixen. 
 
 " And we are only two," retorted the wolf. 
 
 " So they'll catch us," added the vixen. 
 
 " Nice place your larder is," snarled the wolf. 
 
 " I'm afraid the police have got into it," stammered the vixen. 
 
 " Hiss, hiss, hiss ! " uttered the gander, from within. 
 
 " That's the scratch of a match," said the vixen. 
 
 " If they see us we are lost," answered the wolf. 
 
 Just then the turkey, who had puffed himself up to his 
 utmost, exploded with a loud puff. 
 
 " Firearms," whispered the wolf. 
 
 " It's either a mine or a bomb," quoth the vixen. 
 
 " Dynamite," faltered the wolf. 
 
 They did not wait to hear anything else ; but, in their terror, 
 they turned on their heels and scampered off as fast as their 
 legs could carry them. In a twinkling they were both out of 
 sight. 
 
 The travellers in the hollow tree laughed heartily ; then they 
 returned to their corners and went off to sleep. On the mor- 
 row, at daybreak, they resumed their wanderings, and I dare- 
 say they are travelling still, for it takes a long time to go round 
 the world. 
 
 A few days afterwards Bellacic went to visit one of his vine- 
 yards. This, of all his land, was his pride and his boast. He 
 had, besides, spent much money on it, for all the vines had 
 been brought from Asia Minor, and the grapes were of a 
 quality far superior to those which grew all around. The pre- 
 sent crop was already promising to be a very fair one.
 
 266 POBRA TIM 
 
 On reaching the first vines, Bellacic was surprised to per- 
 ceive that all the leaves were limp, withering or dry. The next 
 vines were even in a worse condition. He walked on, and, to 
 his horror, he perceived that the whole of his vineyard was 
 seared and blasted, as if warm summer had all at once changed 
 into cold, bleak, frosty winter. Every stem had been cut down 
 to the very roots. Gloomy and disconsolate he walked about, 
 with head bent down, kicking every vine as he went on ; all, all 
 were fit for firewood now. It was not only a heavy loss of 
 money, it was something worse. All his hopes, his pride, 
 seemed to be crushed, humbled by it. He had loved this vine- 
 yard almost as much as his wife or his son, and now it was 
 obliterated from the surface of the earth. 
 
 Had it been the work of Nature or the will of God, he would 
 have bowed his head humbly, and said : " Thy will be done " ; 
 but he was exasperated to think that this had all been the work 
 of a man — the vengeance of a coward — -a craven-hearted rascal 
 that, after all, he had never harmed, for this could be only 
 Vranic's doing. In his passion he felt that if he had held the 
 dastard at that moment, he would have crushed him under his 
 feet like a reptile. 
 
 As Bellacic slowly arrived at the other end of the vineyard, 
 he felt that just then he could not retrace his steps and cross 
 the whole of his withering vines once more. He stopped there 
 for a few moments, and looked around ; then it seemed to him 
 as if he had seen a man crouch down and disappear behind the 
 bushes. 
 
 Could it be Vranic coming to gloat over him and enjoy his 
 revenge ? or was it not an image of his over-heated imagina- 
 tion ? 
 
 He stood stock-still for a while, but nothing moved. He 
 went slowly on, and then he heard a slight rustling noise. 
 He advanced, crouching like a cat or a tiger, with fixed, dilated 
 eyes and pricked-up ears. He saw the bushes move, he heard 
 the sound of footsteps ; then he saw the figure of a man 
 bending low and running almost on all fours, so as not to 
 be seen. 
 
 It was Vranic ; now he could be clearly recognised. Bellacic 
 ran after him ; Vranic ran still faster. All at once he caught 
 his foot on a root that had shot through the earth ; he 
 stumbled and fell down heavily. As he rose, Bellacic came 
 up to him.
 
 POBRA TIM 267 
 
 " Villain, scoundrel, murderer ! is it you who ? Yes, it 
 
 could be no other dog than you ! Moreover, you wanted to 
 see how they looked." 
 
 " What ? " said Vranic, ghastly pale, trembling from head 
 to foot. " What ? — I really don't know what you mean." 
 
 " Do you say that you haven't cut down my vines ? " 
 
 " / cut your vines ? What vines ? " 
 
 " Have, at least, the courage of your cowardly deeds, you 
 sneak." 
 
 Thereupon Bellacic gave him a blow which made him reel. 
 Vranic began to howl, and to take all the saints as witnesses 
 of his innocence. 
 
 " Stop your lies, or I'll pluck that vile tongue of yours out 
 of your mouth, and cast it in your face ! " 
 
 Vranic thereupon took out his knife and tried to stab 
 Bellacic. The two men fought. 
 
 " Is that the knife with which you cut my vines ? " 
 
 " No ; I kept it for you," replied Vranic, aiming a deadly 
 blow at his adversary. 
 
 Bellacic parried the blow, and in the scuffle which ensued 
 Vranic dropped his knife as his antagonist overpowered 
 him and knocked him down. 
 
 Although Vranic was struggling with all his might, he was 
 no match for Bellacic, who pinned him down and managed 
 to pick up the dagger. 
 
 "You have cut down all my vines; now you yourself '11 
 have a taste of your own knife." 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! Do not kill me 1 " 
 
 " No, no ; I'll not kill you," said Bellacic, kneeling down 
 upon him ; then, bending over him and catching hold of 
 his right ear, he, with a quick, firm hand, severed it at a 
 stroke. 
 
 Vranic was howling loud enough to be heard miles off. 
 
 " Now for the other," said Bellacic. '' I'll nail them to a post 
 in my vineyard as a scarecrow for future vermin of your kind." 
 
 Vranic, however, wriggled, and, with an effort, managed to 
 rise ; then he took to his heels, holding his bleeding head 
 and yelling with pain and fear. 
 
 Bellacic made no attempt to stop him, or cut off his other ear, 
 as he had threatened to do ; he quietly walked away, perfectly 
 satisfied with the punishment he had inflicted on the scoundrel. 
 Instead of returning home he thought it more prudent to go and
 
 268 POBRA TIM 
 
 spend the night in the neighbouring convent, and thus avoid 
 any conflict with the police. 
 
 Bellacic, vi'ho had ever been generous to the monks, was 
 now welcomed by the brotherhood ; the best wine was brought 
 forth and a lay servant was at once despatched to town to find 
 out what Vranic had done, and, on the morrow, one of the 
 friars themselves went to reconnoitre and to inform Mara 
 that her husband was safe and in perfect health. 
 
 Upon that very day the Spera in Dio cast anchor in the 
 harbour of Budua, and Uros reached home just when the 
 police had come to arrest his father for having cut off Vranic's 
 ear ; and the confusion that ensued can hardly be described. 
 
 For the sake of doing their duty, the guards, who were 
 Buduans, made a pretence of looking for Bellacic ; they knew 
 very well that he would not be silly enough to wait till they 
 came to arrest him. 
 
 Mara, like all women in such an emergency, was thoroughly 
 upset to see the police in her house. She threw her arms 
 round her son, and begged him to keep quiet, and not to 
 interfere in the matter, lest their new masters' wrath should be 
 visited upon him. Anyhow, as the police tried to make them- 
 selves as little obnoxious as they possibly could, and as they 
 went through their duties with as much grace, and as little 
 zeal, as possible, Uros did not interfere to prevent them from 
 discharging their unpleasant task. 
 
 The poor mother wept for joy at seeing her son, and for 
 grief at the thought that her husband was an exile from his 
 house at his time of life ; but just then the good friar came 
 in and brought news from Bellacic, and comforted the family, 
 saying that in a very few days the whole affair would be 
 quieted, and their guest would be able to come back home. 
 
 " And will he remain with you all that time ? " asked Mara. 
 
 " We should be very pleased to have him," replied the friar; 
 " but for his sake and ours, it were better foV him to cross the 
 mountain and remain at Cettinje till the storm has blown over." 
 
 " And when does he start ? " 
 
 " This evening." 
 
 " May I come and see him before he goes ? " asked Mara. 
 
 " Certainly, and if you wish to go at once, I'll wait here 
 a little while longer, just not to awaken suspicion." 
 
 Mara, therefore, went off at once, and the friar followed her 
 a quarter of an hour afterwards.
 
 POBRATIM 26g 
 
 Uros, on seeing Milena, felt as if he were suffocating ; his 
 heart began to beat violently, and then it seemed to stop. 
 He, for a moment, gasped for breath. She, too, only recover- 
 ing from her illness, felt faint at seeing him. 
 
 Uros found her looking handsomer and younger than before ; 
 her complexion was so pale, her skin so transparent, that her 
 eyes not only looked much larger, but bluer and more luminous 
 than ever. To Uros they seemed rather like the eyes of an 
 angel than those of a woman. Her fingers were so long and 
 thin ; her hand was of a lily whiteness, as it nestled in Uros' 
 brown, brawny and sunburnt one. 
 
 All her sprightliness was gone ; the roguish smile had 
 vanished from her lips. Not only her features, but her voice 
 had also changed ; it was now so pure, so weak, so silvery in 
 its sound ; so veiled withal, like a voice coming from afar and 
 not from the person sitting by you. It was as painful to hear 
 as if it had been a voice from beyond the grave, and it sent a 
 pang to the young man's heart. 
 
 As he put his arm around her frail waist, the tears rose to 
 his eyes, and he could hardly find the words, or utter them 
 softly enough, to say to her : " Milena, srce moja,'" (my heart) 
 " do you still love me ? " 
 
 " Hush, Uros! " said she, shuddering; " never speak to me of 
 love again." 
 
 " Milena ! " 
 
 " Yes," continued she, sighing, " my sin has found me out. 
 Had I behaved as I should have done, so many people 
 would not have come to grief. Vranic might still have been 
 alive." 
 
 " But you never gave him any encouragement, did you ? " 
 said Uros, misunderstanding her meaning. 
 
 The tears started to her eyes. Weak as she was, she felt 
 everything acutely. 
 
 " Do you thinks! could have done such a thing ? And yet you 
 are right ; I used to be so light once ; but that seems to me so 
 long, so very long ago. But I have grown old since then, 
 terribly old ; I have suffered so much." 
 
 " I was wrong, dearest ; forgive me. I remember how that 
 fiend persecuted you. I was near sending him to hell myself, 
 and it was a pity I didn't ; anyhow, I was so glad when I 
 heard that Radonic had " 
 
 " Hush ! I was the cause of that man's death. Through it my
 
 270 POBRATIM 
 
 husband became an outcast, and now your father has been 
 obliged to flee from his home " 
 
 " How can you blame yourself for all these things ? It is only 
 because you have been so ill and weak that you have got such 
 fancies into your head ; but now that I am here, and you know 
 how much I love you " 
 
 She shuddered spasmodically, and a look of intense pain and 
 wretchedness came over her features. 
 
 " Never speak of love any more, unless you wish to kill me." 
 
 Uros looked at her astonished. 
 
 " I know that in all this I am entirely to blame ; but if a 
 woman can atone for her sin by suffering, I think " 
 
 " Then you do not love me any more ? " asked Uros, de- 
 jectedly. 
 
 She looked up into his eyes, and, in that deep and earnest 
 glance of hers, she seemed to give up her soul to him. If 
 months ago she had loved him with all the levity of a reckless 
 child, now she loved him with all the pathos of a woman. 
 
 Uros caught her in his arms and pressed her to his heart. 
 She leaned her head on his shoulder, as if unable to keep it 
 upright ; an ashy paleness spread itself over all her features, 
 her very lips lost jjl their colour, her eyelids drooped ; she 
 had fainted. Uros, terrified, thought she was dying, nay, 
 dead. 
 
 " Milena, my love, my angel, speak to me, for Heaven's 
 sake ! " he cried. 
 
 After a few moments, however, she slowly began to recover, 
 and then burst into a hysteric fit of sobbing. 
 
 When at last she came again to her senses, she begged Uros 
 never to speak to her of love, as that would be her death. 
 
 " Besides," added she, " now that I am better, I shall return 
 to my parents, for I can never go back to that dreadful house 
 of mine. I could never cross its threshold again." 
 
 Uros was dismayed. He had been looking forward to his 
 return with such joy, and now that he was back, the woman he 
 worshipped was about to flee from him. 
 
 " Do not look so gloomy," said she, trying to cheer him ; 
 " remember that " 
 
 Her faltering, weak voice died in her throat ; she could not 
 bring herself to finish her phrase. 
 
 " What ? " asked Uros, below his breath. 
 
 " That I'm another man's wife."
 
 POBRATIM 271 
 
 " Oh, Milena ! don't say such horrible things ; it's almost like 
 blasphemy." 
 
 " And still it's true ; besides " 
 
 Her voice, which had become steady, broke down again. 
 
 " Besides what ? " said Uros, after a moment's pause, leaving 
 her time to breathe. 
 
 " You'll be a husband yourself, some day," she added in an 
 undertone. 
 
 " Never," burst forth Uros, fiercely, " unless I am your 
 husband." 
 
 " Hush ! " said she, shuddering with fear and crossing her- 
 self. "Your father wishes you to marry, and — I wish it 
 too," she added in a whisper. 
 
 " No, you don't, Milena ; that's a lie," he replied, passion- 
 ately. " Could you swear it on the holy Cross ? " 
 
 " Yes, Uros, if it's for your good, I wish it, too. You know 
 that I " 
 
 Her pale face grew of deep red hue ; even her hands flushed 
 as the blood rushed impetuously upwards. 
 
 " Well ? " asked Uros, anxiously. 
 
 " That I love you far more than I do myself." 
 
 He clasped her in his arms tenderly, andjcissed her shoulders, 
 not daring to kiss her lips. 
 
 " Would it be right for me to marry a young girl whom I do 
 not love, when all my soul is yours ? " 
 
 " Still," said she, shuddering, " our love is a sin before God 
 and man." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me so when I first knew you ? Then, 
 perhaps, I might not have loved you." 
 
 Milena's head sank down on her bosom, her eyes filled with 
 tears, there was a low sound in her throat. Then, in a voice 
 choking with sobs, she said : 
 
 ■' You are right, Uros ; I was to blame, very much to blame. 
 I was as thoughtless as a child; in fact, I was a child, and I only 
 wanted to be amused. But since then I have grown so old. 
 Lying ill in bed, almost dying, I was obliged to think of all the 
 foolish things I said and did, so " 
 
 " So you do not love me any more," he said, abruptly ; but 
 seeing the look of sorrow which shadowed Milena's face, he 
 added : " My heart, forgive me ; it is only my love for you 
 that makes me so peevish. When you ask me to forget you
 
 272 POBRA TIM 
 
 " And still you must try and do so. The young girl your 
 father has chosen for you — — " 
 
 " Loves some one else," interrupted Uros. 
 
 Milena looked up with an expression of joy she vainly tried to 
 control. The young man thereupon told her the mistake which 
 had taken place, and all that had happened the last time he 
 and his friend had been at Zara. 
 
 " Giulianic has taken a solemn oath that I shall never marry 
 his daughter, and as Milenko is in love with her, I hope my 
 father will release his friend from the promise " 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Mara came in. 
 
 " Well, mother," said Uros, " what news do you bring to 
 us?" 
 
 " Your father is safe, my boy. He left this morning for 
 Montenegro ; by this time he must have crossed the border. 
 On the whole, the police tried to look for him where they knew 
 they could not find him. He left word that he wishes to see 
 you very much, and begs you to go up to Cettinje as soon as 
 you can." 
 
 " I'll go and see Milenko, so that he may take sole charge 
 of the ship, and then I'll start this very evening." 
 
 " No, child, there is no such hurry ! Rest to-night ; you can 
 leave to-morrow, or the day after." 
 
 Having seen Milenko, and entrusted the ship for a few days 
 entirely to him, Uros started early on the next morning for the 
 black mountains. 
 
 Mara could hardly tear herself away from him. She had 
 been waiting so eagerly for his arrival, and now, when he had 
 come home, she was obliged to part from him. 
 
 " Do not stay there too long, for then you will only return to 
 start, and I'll have scarcely seen you." 
 
 " No, I'll only staj' there one or two days, no more." 
 
 " And then I hope you'll not mix up in any quarrel. I'm so 
 sorry you've come back just now." 
 
 " Come, mother," said Uros, smiling pleasantly as he stood 
 on the doorstep before starting, "what harm can befall me ? I 
 haven't mixed up in any of the karvarina business, nor am 
 I running away as an outlaw ; if we have some enemies they 
 are all here, not there. I suppose I'll find father at Zwillievic's 
 or some other friend's house. Your fears are quite unfounded, 
 are they not ? " 
 
 All Uros said was quite true, but still his mother refused to
 
 POBRA TIM 273 
 
 be comforted. As he bade Milena good-bye, "Remember!" 
 she whispered to him, and she slipped back into her room. 
 
 Did she wish him to remember that she was Radonic's 
 wife ? 
 
 Uros thereupon started with a heavy heart ; everybody 
 seemed to have changed since he had left Budua. 
 
 The early morning was grey and cloudy, and although Uros 
 was very fond of his father, and anxious to see him, still he 
 was loth to leave his home. 
 
 At the town gate Uros met Milenko, who had come to walk 
 part of the way with him. Uros, who was thinking of his 
 mother and especially of Milena, had quite forgotten his 
 bosom friend. Seeing him so unexpectedly, his heart ex- 
 panded with a sudden movement of joy, and he felt at that 
 moment as if they had met after having been parted for ages. 
 
 " Well ? " asked Milenko, as they walked along. " Do you 
 remember when we first started from Budua, we thought that 
 we'd have reached the height of happiness the day we'd sail on 
 our own ship ? " 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " The ship is almost our own, and happiness is farther off 
 than ever." 
 
 " Wait till we come back next voyage, and things might look 
 quite different then." 
 
 The sun just then began to dawn ; the dark and frowning 
 mountains lost all their grimness as a pale golden halo lighted 
 up their tops ; drowsy nature seemed to awake with a smile, 
 and looked like a rosy infant does when, on opening its eyes, 
 it sees its mother's beaming face. 
 
 The two friends walked on. Uros spoke of the woman he 
 loved, and Milenko listened with a lover's sympathy. 
 
 Milenko walked with his friend for about two hours ; then 
 he bade Uros good-bye, promising him to go at once to his 
 mother and Milena, and tell them how he was faring. 
 
 Uros began to climb up the rugged path leading towards 
 Montenegro. After a quarter of an hour, the two friends 
 stopped, shouted " Ahoy ! " to each other, waved their hands 
 and then resumed their walk. Towards nightfall Uros reached 
 the village where Zwillievic lived. 
 
 With a beating heart, sore feet and aching calves he trudged 
 on towards the house, which, as he hoped, was to be the goal 
 of his journey. As he pushed the door open he shuddered, 
 
 18
 
 274 
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 thinking that instead of his father he might happen to find 
 Milena's husband. 
 
 The apartment into which he entered was a large and rather 
 low room, serving as a kitchen, a parlour, a dining and a 
 sleeping room. It was, in fact, the only room of the house. 
 Its walls were cleanly whitewashed ; not a speck of dust could 
 be seen anywhere, nor a cobweb amidst the rafters in the ceiling. 
 The inner part was used for sleeping purposes, for against the 
 walls on either side there were two huge beds. By the beds, 
 two boxes — one of plain deal, like the chests used by sailors ; the 
 other, made of cypress-wood and quaintly carved — contained 
 the family linen. In the middle of the room stood a rough, 
 massive table, darkened and polished by daily use, and some 
 three-legged stools around it. The walls were decorated with 
 the real wealth of the family — weapons of every shape, age and 
 kind. Short guns, the butt ends of which were all inlaid with 
 mother-of-pearl; long carbines with silver incrustations ; modern 
 rifles and fowling-pieces ; swords, scimitars, daggers, yatagans ; 
 pistols and blunderbusses with niello and filigree silver-work, 
 gemmed like jewels or church ornaments. These trophies 
 were heirlooms of centuries. Over one of the beds there 
 was a silver- and gold-plated Byzantine icon, over the other 
 a hideous German print of St. George. The Prince of Cappa- 
 docia, who was killing a grass-green dragon, wore for the 
 occasion a yellow mantle, a red doublet and blue tights. 
 Under each of these images there was a fount of holy water 
 and a little oil-lamp. 
 
 As Uros stepped in, Milena's mother, who was standing by 
 the hearth, preparing the supper, turned round to see who had 
 just come in. She looked at him, but as he evidently was a 
 stranger to her, she came up a step or two towards him. 
 
 " Good evening, domacica," for she was not only the lady of 
 the house, but the wife of the head of the family and the chief 
 of the clan, or tribe. 
 
 " Good evening, gospod,'" said she, hesitatingly. 
 
 " You do not know me, I think. I am a kind of cousin of 
 yours, Uros Bellacic." 
 
 " What, is it you, my boy ? I might have known you by 
 your likeness to your mother ; but when I saw you last yon 
 were only a little child, and now you are quite a grown-up 
 man," added she, looking at him with motherly fondness. 
 " Have you walked all the way from Budua ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 275 
 
 " Yes, I left home this morning." 
 
 " Then you must be tired. Come and sit down, my boy." 
 
 " I am rather tired ; you see, we sailors are not accustomed 
 to wallc much. But tell me first, have you seen my father ? 
 Is he staying with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, he came yesterday. He is out just now, but he'll 
 soon be back with Zwillievic. Sit down and rest," said she, 
 and let me give you some water to wash, for you must be 
 travel-sore and dusty." 
 
 As Uros sat down, she, after the Eastern fashion, bent to 
 unlace his opanke ; but he, unaccustomed to be waited upon by 
 women, would not allow her to perform such a menial act for him. 
 
 He had hardly finished his ablutions when his father and the 
 gospodar came in. Seeing his son, Bellacic stretched out his 
 arms and clasped him to his heart. Then they began talking 
 about all that had taken place since they had seen each other ; 
 and, supper being served, Uros, while he ate with a good 
 appetite, related all the adventures of his seafaring life, and did 
 his best to keep his father amused. At the end of the meal, 
 when everyone was in a good-humour, the pipes being lit and 
 the raki brought forth, he told them how Milenko had fallen in 
 love with the girl who ought to have been his bride, how she 
 reciprocated his affection, and the many complications that 
 followed, until Giulianic swore, in great wrath, that he, Uros, 
 should never marry his daughter. Although this part of the 
 story did not amuse the father as much as it did the rest of 
 the company, still it was related with such graphic humour 
 that he could not help joining in the laughter. 
 
 On the morrow, Bellacic, wanting to have a quiet talk with 
 his son, proposed that they should go and see a little of the 
 country, and, perhaps, meet Radonic, who was said to be 
 coming back from the neighbourhood of Scutari. 
 
 As they walked on, Bellacic spoke of his lost vineyard, and of 
 his rashness in cutting off Vranic's ear ; then he added : 
 
 " Remember, now that you are going back to Budua, you 
 must promise me that, as long as you are there, you'll not 
 mix up in this stupid karvarina business. I know that I am 
 asking much, for if we old men are hasty, recommending you 
 who are young and hot-headed to be cool is like asking the 
 fire not to burn, or the sun not to shine; still, for your mother's 
 sake and for mine, you'll keep aloof from those reptiles of 
 Vranics, will you not ? " 
 
 18—2
 
 276 POBRA TIM 
 
 Uros promised to do his best and obey. 
 
 "I'd have liked to see you married and settled in life," and 
 Bellacic cast a questioning glance at his son. 
 
 Uros looked down and twisted the ends of his short and crisp 
 moustache. 
 
 " It is true you are very young still; it is we— your mother 
 and I — who are getting old." 
 
 Uros continued to walk in silence by his father's side, 
 " If Ivanka is in love with your friend, and Giulianic is willing 
 to give her to him, I am not the man to make any objections. 
 The only thing I'd like to know is whether it is solely for 
 Milenko's sake that you acted as you did." 
 
 Uros tried to speak, but the words he would utter stuck in 
 his throat. 
 
 " Then it is as I thought," added Bellacic, seeing his son's 
 confusion ; " you love some one else." 
 
 Uros looked up at his father for all reply. 
 " Answer me," said Bellacic, tenderly. 
 " Yes," said the young man, in a whisper. 
 " A young girl ? " 
 "No." 
 
 " A married woman ? " asked the father, lifting his brows 
 with a look of pain in his eyes. 
 " Yes." 
 
 " A relation of ours ? " 
 " Yes." 
 " Milena ? " 
 Uros nodded. 
 
 Just then, as they turned the corner of the road, they met a 
 crowd of men coming towards them ; it was a band of blood- 
 stained Montenegrins returning from an encounter with the 
 Turks. They were bearing a wounded man upon a stretcher. 
 
 " Milena would have been the girl your mother and I might 
 have chosen for your bride ; and, indeed, we have learnt to 
 love her as a daughter ; but fate has decreed otherwise." 
 They now came up to the foremost man of the band. 
 " Who is wounded ? " asked Bellacic of him. 
 " Radonic," answered he. 
 " Is the wound a bad one ? " 
 " He is dying ! " repHed the Montenegrin, in a whisper.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE VAMPIRE 
 
 Vranic, having found out that the Austrian law could do 
 nothing for him, except punish him for his crime in cutting 
 down the vines of a man who had done him no harm, shut 
 himself up at home to nurse his wounded head, to brood over 
 his revenge, and pity himself for all the mishaps that had be- 
 fallen him. The more he pitied himself, the more irritable he 
 grew, and the mofe he considered himself a poor persecuted 
 wretch. He durst not go out for fear of being laughed at ; 
 and, in fact, when he did go, the children in the streets began 
 to call him names, to ask him what he had done with his ears, 
 and whether he liked cutting people's vines down. 
 
 With his bickering and peevish temper, not only his fast 
 friends grew weary of him, but his own family forsook him ; 
 his very brother, at last, could not abide his saturnine humour, 
 and left him. He then began to drink to try and drown his 
 troubles ; still, he only took enough to muddle his brains, and, 
 moreover, the greater quantity of spirits he consumed the more 
 sullen he grew. 
 
 Having but one idea in his head — that is, the great wrong 
 that had been done to him — he hardly fell asleep at nights but 
 he was at once haunted by fearful dreams. His murdered 
 brother would at once appear before him and ask him — urge 
 him — to avenge his death : 
 
 •' While you are enjoying the inheritance I left you, I am 
 groaning in hell-fire, and my murderer is not only left free, 
 but he is even made much of." 
 
 Masses were said for the dead man's soul, still that was of 
 no avail; Vranic's dreams got always more frightful. The 
 morina, the dreadful iitara or nightmare, took up its dwelling 
 in the tailor's house. No sooner did the poor man close his 
 eyes than the ponderous ghost came hovering over him, and at 
 last crushed him with its weight. The sign of the pentacle was
 
 278 POBRATIM 
 
 drawn on every door and window. A witch drew it for him on 
 paper with magical ink, and he placed the paper under his 
 pillow. He put another on the sheets ; then the nightmare left 
 him alone, and other evil spirits came in its stead. Not know- 
 ing the names of these evil spirits or their nature, it was a 
 difficult task to find out the planet under which they were 
 subjected, the sign which they obeyed, and what charm was 
 potent enough to scare them away. 
 
 One night (it was about the hour when his brother had been 
 murdered) the tailor was lying on his bed in a half-wakeful 
 slumber — that is to say, his drowsy body was benumbed, but 
 his mind was still quite awake, when all at once he was roused 
 by the noise of a loud wind blowing within the house. Outside, 
 everything was perfectly quiet, but inside a distant door seemed 
 to have been opened down in some cellar, and a draught was 
 blowing up with a moaning, booming sound. You might have 
 fancied that a grave had been opened and a ghastly gale was 
 blowing from the hollow depths of hell below, and that it came 
 wheezing up. It was dreadful to hear, for it had such a 
 dismal sound. 
 
 Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Vranic thought that 
 this mysterious draught was cold, damp and chilly ; that it had 
 an earthy, rank smell of mildew as it blew by him. 
 
 He lay there shivering, hardly daring to breathe, putting his 
 tongue between his chattering teeth not to make a noise, and 
 listening to that strange, weird blast as at last it died far away 
 in a faint, imperceptible sigh. 
 
 No sooner had the sound of the wind entirely subsided than 
 he heard a cadenced noise of footsteps coming from afar. Were 
 these steps out of the house or inside ? he could not tell. He 
 heard them draw nearer and ever nearer; they seemed to come 
 across the wall of the room, as if bricks and stones were no 
 obstacle to his uncanny visitor ; now they were in his room, 
 walking up to his bed. Appalled with terror, Vranic looked 
 towards the place from where the footsteps came, but he 
 could not see anybody. Trembling as if with a fit of palsy, 
 he cast a fearful, furtive glance all around, even in the further- 
 most corner of the room ; not the shadow of a ghost was to be 
 seen ; nevertheless, the footsteps of the invisible person grew 
 louder as they approached at a slow, sure, inexorable pace. 
 
 At last they stopped ; thej' were by his bed. Vranic felt the 
 breath of a person on his very face.
 
 POBRATIM 279 
 
 Except a person who has felt it, no one can realise the horror 
 of having an invisible being leaning over you, of feeling his breath 
 on your face. 
 
 Vranic tried to rise, but he at once came in close contact with 
 the unseen monster ; two cold, clammy, boneless hands gripped 
 liim and pinned him down ; he vainly struggled to get free, but he 
 was as a baby in the hands of his invisible foe. In a few seconds 
 he was entirely mastered, cowed down, overcome, panting, 
 breathless. When he tried to scream, a limp, nerveless hand, 
 as soft as a huge toad, was placed upon his mouth, shutting it 
 up entirely, and impeding all power of utterance. Then the 
 ponderous mass of the ghost came upon him, crushed him, 
 smothered him. Fainting with fear, his strength and his senses 
 forsook him at the same time, and he swooned away. 
 
 When he came back to life, the cold, grey light of the dawn- 
 ing day, pouring in through the half-closed shutters, gave the 
 room a squalid, lurid look. His head was not exactly paining 
 him, but it felt drained of all its contents, and as light as an 
 empty skull, or an old poppy head in which the seeds are 
 rattling. He looked around. There was nothing unusual in 
 the room ; everything was just as it had been upon the previous 
 evening. Had his struggle with the ghost been but a dream ? 
 He tried to move, to rise, but all his limbs were as weary and 
 sore as if he had really fought and been beaten. Nay, his 
 whole body was as weak as if he had had some long illness and 
 was only now convalescent. He recalled to mind all the details 
 of the struggle, he looked at the places where he felt numb and 
 sore, and everywhere he remarked livid stains which he had not 
 seen before. He lifted himself up on his right elbow ; to his 
 horror and consternation, there were two or three spots of blood 
 upon the white sheet. 
 
 He felt faint and sick at that sight; he understood everything. 
 His had not been a dream ; his gruesome visitor was a fright- 
 ful ghost, a terrible vukodlaki, which had fought with him and 
 sucked his blood. His brother had become a loathsome vam- 
 pire ; he was the first victim. 
 
 For a moment he remained bewildered, unable to think ; then 
 when he did manage to collect his wandering senses, the terrible 
 reality of his misfortune almost drove him mad again. 
 
 The ghost, having tasted his blood, would not leave him till 
 it had drained him to the very last drop. He was a lost man ; no 
 medical aid could be of any use; nourishing food, wine and tonics
 
 28o POBRA TIM 
 
 might prolong his agony a few days longer and no more. He 
 was doomed to a sure death. Daily — as if in a decline — he 
 saw himself wasting away, for the vampire would suck the very 
 marrow of his bones. 
 
 His was a dreary life, indeed, and yet he clung to it with 
 might and main. The days passed on wearily, and he tried to 
 hope against hope itself; but he was so weak and dispirited that 
 the slightest noise made him shiver and grow pale. An un- 
 expected footstep, the opening or shutting of a door, slackened 
 or accelerated the beating of his heart. 
 
 With fear and trembling he waited for night to come on, and 
 when the sun went down — when darkness came over the earth 
 — his terror grew apace. Still, where was he to go ? He had 
 not a single friend on the surface of the earth. He, therefore, 
 drank several glasses of spirits, muttered his prayers and went 
 to bed. No sooner had he fallen asleep than he fell again a 
 prey to the vampire. 
 
 On the third night he determined not to go to bed, but to 
 remain awake, and thus wait for the arrival of his gruesome 
 guest. Still, at the last moment his courage failed him, so he 
 went to an old man who lived hard by. He promised to make 
 him a new waistcoat if he would only give him a rug to sleep 
 on, and tell him a story until he got drowsy. 
 
 The old man complied willingly, above all as Vranic had 
 brought a bukara of wine with him, so he at once began the 
 story of 
 
 THE PRIEST AND HIS COOK. 
 
 In the village of Steino there lived an old priest who was 
 exceedingly wealthy, but who was, withal, as miserly as he was 
 rich. Although he had fields which stretched farther than the 
 eye could reach, fat pastures, herds and flocks ; although his 
 cellars were filled with mellow wine, his barns were bursting 
 with the grace of God ; although abundance reigned in his 
 house, still he was never known to have given a crust of bread 
 to a beggar or a glass of wine to a weary old man. 
 
 He lived all alone with a skinflint of an old cook, as stingy as 
 himself, who would rather by far have seen an apple rot than 
 give it to a hungry child whose mouth watered for it. 
 
 Those two grim old fogeys, birds of one feather, cared for 
 no one else in this world except for each other, and, in 
 fact, the people in Steino said , but people in villages
 
 POBRATIM 281 
 
 have bad tongues, so it's useless to repeat what was said about 
 them. 
 
 The priest had a nephew, a smith, a good-hearted, bright- 
 eyed, burly kind of a fellow, beloved by all the village, except 
 by his uncle, whom he had greatly displeased because he had 
 married a bonny lass of the neighbouring village of Smarje, 
 
 instead of taking as a wife the , well, the cook's niece, 
 
 though, between us and the wall, the cook was never known to 
 
 have had a sister or a brother either, and the people , but, 
 
 as I said before, the people were apt to say nasty things about 
 their priest. 
 
 The smith, who was quite a pauper, had several children, for 
 the poorer a man is the more babies his wife presents him with 
 — women everywhere are such unreasonable creatures — and 
 whenever he applied to his uncle for a trifle, the uncle would 
 spout the Scriptures in Latin, saying something about the 
 unfitness of casting pearls before pigs, and that he would 
 rather see him hanged than help him. 
 
 Once — it was in the middle of winter — the poor smith had 
 been without any work for days and days. He had spent his 
 last penny ; then the baker would not give him any more bread 
 on credit, and at last, on a cold, frosty night, the poor children 
 had been obliged to go to bed supperless. 
 
 The smith, who had sworn a few days before never again to 
 put his foot in the priest's house, was, in his despair, obliged to 
 humble himself, and go and beg for a loaf of bread, with which 
 to satisfy his children on the morrow. 
 
 Before he knocked at the door, he went and peeped in 
 through the half-closed shutters, and he saw his uncle and the 
 cook seated by a roaring fire, with their feet on the fender, 
 munching roasted chestnuts and drinking mulled wine. Their 
 shining lips still seemed greasy from the fat sausages they had 
 eaten for supper, and, as he sniffed at the window, he fancied 
 the air was redolent with the spices of black-pudding. The 
 smell made his mouth water and his hungry stomach rumble. 
 
 The poor man knocked at the door with a trembling hand ; 
 his legs began to quake, he had not eaten the whole of that 
 long day ; but then he thought of his hungry children, and 
 knocked with a steadier hand. 
 
 The priest, hearing the knock, thought it must be some 
 pious parishioner bringing him a fat pullet or perhaps a sleek 
 sucking-pig, the price of a mass to be said on the morrow ; but
 
 282 POBRA TIM 
 
 when, instead, he saw his nephew, looking as mean and as 
 sheepish as people usually do when theyj^go a-begging, he was 
 greatly disappointed. 
 
 " What do you want, bothering here at this time of the 
 night ? " asked the old priest, gruffly. 
 
 " Uncle," said the poor man, dejectedly. 
 
 " I suppose you've been drinking, as usual ; you stink of 
 spirits." 
 
 " Spirits, in sooth ! when I haven't a penny to bless me." 
 
 " Oh, if it's only a blessing you want, here, take one and go!" 
 
 And the priest lifted up his thumb and the two fingers, and 
 uttered something like " Dominus vobiscum,'' and then waved 
 him off; whilst the old shrew skulking near him uttered a 
 croaking kind of laugh, and said that a priest's blessing was 
 a priceless boon. 
 
 " Yes," replied the smith, " upon a full stomach ; but my 
 children have gone to bed supperless, and I haven't had a 
 crust of bread the whole of the day." 
 
 " ' Man shall not live by bread alone,' the Scriptures say, 
 and you ought to know that if you are a Christian, sir." 
 
 " Eh ? I daresay the Scriptures are right, for priests surely 
 do not live on bread alone ; they fatten on plump pullets and 
 crisp pork-pies." 
 
 " Do you mean to bully me, you unbelieving beggar ? " 
 
 "Bully you, uncle!" said the burly man, in a piteous tone; 
 " only think of my starving children." 
 
 " He begrudges his uncle the grub he eats," shrieked the old 
 cat of a cook. 
 
 " I'd have given you something, but the proud man should be 
 punished," said the wrathful priest, growing purple in the face. 
 
 " Oh, uncle, my children ! " sobbed the poor man. 
 
 " What business has a man to have a brood of brats when 
 he can't earn enough to buy bread for them ? " said the cook, 
 aloud, to herself. 
 
 " Will you hold your tongue, you cantankerous old cat ? " 
 said the smith to the cook. 
 
 The old vixen began to howl, and the priest, in his anger, 
 cursed his nephew, telling him that he and his children could 
 starve for all he cared. 
 
 The smith thereupon went home, looking as piteous as a 
 tailless turkey-cock ; and while his children slept and, perhaps, 
 dreamt of kolaci, he told his wife the failure he had met with.
 
 POBRATIM 283 
 
 " Your uncle is a brute," said she. 
 
 " He's a priest, and all priests are brutes, you know." 
 
 " Well, I don't know about all of them, for I heard my great- 
 grandmother say that once upon a time there lived " 
 
 " Oh, there are casual exceptions to every rule ! " said her 
 husband. " But, now, what's to be done ? " 
 
 " Listen," said the wife, who was a shrewd kind of woman ; 
 " we can't let the children starve, can we ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " • 
 
 " Then follow my advice. I know of a grass that, given 
 to a horse, or an ox, or a sheep, or a goat, makes the animal 
 fall down, looking as if it were dead." 
 
 " Well, but you don't mean to feed the children with this 
 grass, do you ? " said the smith, not seeing the drift of what 
 she meant. 
 
 " No ; but you could secretly go and give some to your 
 uncle's fattest ox." 
 
 " So," said the husband, scratching his head. 
 
 " Once the animal falls down dead, he'll surely give it to 
 you, as no butcher '11 buy it ; we'll kill it and thus be provided 
 with meat for a long time. Besides, you can sell the bones, 
 the horns, the hide, and get a little money besides." 
 
 " And for to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I'll manage to borrow a few potatoes and a cup of milk." 
 
 On the next day the wife went and got the grass, and the 
 smith, unseen, managed to go and give it to his uncle's fattest 
 ox. A few hours afterwards the animal was found dead. 
 
 On hearing that his finest ox was found in the stable lying 
 stiff and stark the priest nearly had a fit ; and his grief was 
 still greater when he found out that not a man in the village 
 would offer him a penny for it, so when his nephew came 
 he was glad enough to give it to him to get rid of it. 
 
 The cook, who had prompted the priest to make a present 
 of the ox to his nephew, hoped that the smith and all his 
 family would be poisoned by feeding on carrion flesh. 
 
 " But," said the uncle, " bring me back the bones, the horns, 
 and the hide." 
 
 To everyone's surprise, and to the old cook's rage, the smith 
 and his children fed on the flesh of the dead ox, and throve on 
 it. After the ox had all been eaten up, the priest lost a goat, 
 and then a goose, in the same way, and the smith and his 
 family ate them up with evident gusto.
 
 284 POBRA TIM 
 
 After that, the old cook began to suspect foul play on the 
 part of the smith, and she spoke of her suspicions to her master. 
 
 The priest got into a great rage, and wanted to go at once 
 to the police and accuse his nephew of sorcery. 
 
 " No," said the cook, " we must catch them on the hip, and 
 then we can act." 
 
 " But how are we to find them out ? " 
 
 After brooding over the matter for some days, the cook be- 
 thought herself that the best plan would be to shut herself up 
 in a cupboard, and have it taken to the nephew's house. 
 
 The priest, having approved of her plan, put it at once into 
 execution. 
 
 " I have," said the uncle to the nephew, " an old cupboard 
 which needs repairing ; will you take it into your house and 
 keep it for a few days ? " 
 
 " Willingly," said the nephew, who had not the slightest 
 suspicion of the trap laid to catch him. 
 
 The cupboard was brought, and put in the only room the 
 smith possessed ; the children looked at it with wonder, for 
 they had never seen such a big piece of furniture before. The 
 wife had some suspicion. Still, she kept her own counsel. 
 
 Soon afterwards the remains of the goose were brought on 
 the table, and, as the children licked the bones, the husband 
 and wife discussed what meat they were to have for the forth- 
 coming days — was it to be pork, veal, or turkey ? 
 
 As they were engrossed with this interesting topic, a slight, 
 shrill sound came out of the cupboard. 
 
 " What's that ? " said the wife, whose ears were on the alert. 
 
 " I didn't hear anything," said the smith. 
 
 '^ Apshee,'' was the sound that came again from the cupboard. 
 
 " There, did you hear ? " asked the wife. 
 
 " Yes ; but from where did that unearthly sound come ? " 
 
 The wife, without speaking, winked at her husband and 
 pointed to the cupboard. 
 
 " Papshee," was now heard louder than ever. 
 
 The children stopped gnawing the goose's bones ; they opened 
 their greasy mouths and their eyes to the utmost and looked 
 scared. 
 
 " There's some one shut in the cupboard," said the smith, 
 jumping up, and snatching up his tools. 
 
 A moment afterwards the door flew open, and to everyone's 
 surprise, except the wife's, the old cook was found standing bolt
 
 POBRA TIM 285 
 
 upright in the empty space and listening to what they were 
 saying. 
 
 The old woman, finding herself discovered, was about to 
 scream, but the smith caught her by the throat and gave her 
 such a powerful squeeze, that before knowing what he was 
 doing, he had choked the cook to death. 
 
 The poor man was in despair, for he had never meant to 
 commit a murder — he only wanted to prevent the old shrew 
 from screaming. 
 
 "Bog mc ovari! what is to become of me now?" 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the wife, shrugging her shoulders ; " she 
 deserves her fate ; as we make our bed, so must we lie." 
 
 "Yes," quoth the smith, "but if they find out that I've 
 strangled her, they'll hang me." 
 
 " And who'll find you out ? " said she. " Let's put a potato 
 in her mouth and lock up the cupboard again ; they'll think 
 that she choked herself eating potatoes." 
 
 The smith followed his wife's advice, and early on the 
 morrow the priest came again and asked for his press. 
 
 " Talking the matter over with the cook," said he, " I've 
 decided not to have my cupboard repaired, so I've come to 
 take it back." 
 
 "Your cook is right," said the smith's wife; "she's a wise 
 old woman, your cook is." 
 
 " Very," said the priest, uncomfortably. 
 
 " There's more in her head than you suppose," said the wife, 
 thinking of the potato. 
 
 " There is," said the priest. 
 
 " Give my kind respects to your cook," said the wife as the 
 men were taking the cupboard away. 
 
 "Thank you," said the priest, " I'll certainly do so." 
 
 About an hour afterwards the priest came back, ghastly pale, 
 to his nephew, and taking him aside, said : 
 
 " My dear nephew — my only kith-and-kin — a great misfortune 
 has befallen me." 
 
 " What is it, uncle ? " asked the smith. 
 
 " My cook," said the priest, lowering his voice, " has — eating 
 potatoes — somehow or other — I don't know how — choked 
 herself." 
 
 "Oh!" quoth the smith, turning pale, "it is a great mis- 
 fortune ; but you'll say masses for her soul and have her 
 properly buried."
 
 286 POBRATIM 
 
 " But the fact is," interrupted the priest, " she looks so 
 dreadful, with her eyes starting out of their sockets, and her 
 mouth wide open, that I'm quite frightened of her, and besides, 
 if the people see her they'll say that I murdered her." 
 
 " Well, and how am I to help you ? " 
 
 " Come and take her away, in a sack if you like ; then bury 
 her in some hole, or throw her down a well. Do whatever yon 
 like, as long as I am rid of her." 
 
 The smith scratched his head. 
 
 " You must help me ; you are my only relation. You know 
 that whatever I have '11 go to you some day, so " 
 
 " And when people ask what has become of her ? " 
 
 " I'll say she's gone to her — her niece." 
 
 " Well, I don't mind helping you, as long as I don't get into 
 a scrape myself." 
 
 " No, no ! How can you get into trouble ? " 
 
 The priest went off, and soon afterwards the smith went to 
 his uncle's house, and taking a big sack, shoved the cook into it 
 and tied the sack up, put it on his shoulders and trudged off, 
 
 " Here," said the uncle, " take this florin to get a glass of 
 wine on the way, and I hope I'll never see her any more — nor," 
 he added to himself — " you either." 
 
 It was a warm day, and the cook was heavy. The poor man 
 was in a great perspiration ; his throat was parched ; the road 
 was dusty and hilly. After an hour's march he stopped at a 
 roadside inn to drink a glass of wine. He quaffed it down at a 
 gulp and then he had another, and again another, so that when 
 he came out everything was rather hazy and blurred. Seeing 
 some carts of hay at the door which were going to the next town, 
 he asked permission to get on top of one of the waggons. 
 The permission was not only granted, but the carter even helped 
 him to hoist his sack on top. The smith, in return, got down 
 and offered the man a glass of wine for his kindness. Then he 
 again got on the cart and went off to sleep. An hour or two 
 afterwards, when he awoke, the sack was gone. Had it 
 slipped down? had it been stolen from him? — he could not tell. 
 He did not ask for it, but he only congratulated himself at 
 having so dexterously got rid of the cook, and at once went 
 back home. 
 
 That evening his children had hardly been put to bed when 
 the door was opened, and his uncle, looking pale and scared, 
 came in panting.
 
 POBRATIM 287 
 
 " She's back, she's back ! " he gasped. 
 
 " Who is back ? " asked the astonished smith. 
 
 " Why, she, the cook." 
 
 " Alive ? " gasped the smith. 
 
 " No, dead in the sack." 
 
 " Then how the deuce did she get back ? " 
 
 " How ? I ask you how ? " 
 
 " I really don't know how. I dug a hole ten feet deep, half 
 filled the hole with lime, then the other half with stones and 
 earth, and I planted a tree within the hole, and covered the 
 earth all around with sods. It gave me two days' work. I'll 
 take and show you the place if you like." 
 
 The priest looked at his nephew, bewildered. 
 
 " But, tell me," continued the smith, " how did she come 
 back ? " 
 
 " Well, they brought me a waggon of hay, and on the waggon 
 there was a sack, which I thought must contain potatoes or 
 turnips which some parishioner sent me, so I had the sack put 
 in the kitchen. When the men had gone I undid the sack, and 
 to my horror out pops the cook's ugly head, staring at me with 
 her jutting goggle-eyes and her gaping mouth, looking like a 
 horrid jack-in-the-box. Do come and take her away, or she'll 
 drive me out of my senses ; but come at once." 
 
 The smith went back to the priest's house, tied the cook in 
 the sack, and then putting the sack on his shoulders, he carried 
 his load away. He had made up his mind to go and chuck her 
 down one of those almost bottomless shafts which abound in 
 the stony plains of the Karst. 
 
 He walked all night ; at daybreak he saw a man sleeping on 
 the grass by the highway, having near him a sack exactly like 
 the one he was carrying. 
 
 " What a good joke it'll be," thought he, " to take that sack 
 and put mine in its stead." 
 
 He at once stepped lightly on the grass, put down the cook, 
 took up the other sack, which was much lighter than his own, 
 and scampered back home as fast as his weary legs could carry 
 him. 
 
 An hour afterwards the sleeping man awoke, took up his 
 sack, which he was surprised to find so much heavier than it 
 had been when he had gone off to sleep, and then went on his 
 way. 
 
 That evening the priest came back to his nephew's house.
 
 288 POBRA TIM 
 
 looking uglier and more ghastly, if possible, than the evening 
 before. Panting and gasping, with a weak and broken voice : 
 " She's back again," he said in a hoarse whisper. 
 The smith burst out laughing. 
 
 " It's no laughing matter," quoth the priest, with a long 
 face. 
 
 " No, indeed, it isn't," replied the nephew ; " only, tell me 
 how she came back." 
 
 " A pedlar, an honest man whom I sometimes help by 
 lending him a trifle on his goods — merely out of charity — 
 brought me a sack of shoes, begging me to keep it for him 
 till he found a stall for to-morrow's fair. I told him to put the 
 sack in the kitchen, and he did so. When he had gone, I 
 thought I'd just see what kind of shoes he had for sale, and 
 whether he had a pair that fitted me. I opened the sack, and 
 I almost fainted when I saw the frightful face of the cook 
 staring at me." 
 
 " And now," asked the smith, " am I to carry her away 
 again, for you know, uncle, she is rather heavy; and 
 
 besides " 
 
 " No," replied the priest ; " I'll go away myself for a few 
 days; during that time drown her, burn or bury her; in fact, 
 do what you like with her, as long as you get rid of her. 
 Perhaps, knowing I'm not at home, she'll not come back. 
 In the meanwhile, as you are my only relation, come and live 
 in my house and take care of my things as if they were your 
 own ; and they'll be yours soon enough, for this affair has made 
 an old man of me." 
 
 The priest went home, followed by his nephew. Arriving 
 there, he went to the stable, saddled the mare, got on her, gave 
 his nephew his blessing, bade him take care of his house, and 
 trotted off. No sooner had he gone than the smith saddled 
 the stallion, then went and took the cook out of the sack, tied 
 her on the stallion's saddle, then let the horse loose to follow 
 the mare. 
 
 The poor priest had not gone a mile before he heard a horse 
 galloping behind him, and, fearing that it was the police 
 coming to bring him back, he spurred the mare and galloped 
 on ; but the faster he rode, the quicker the stallion galloped 
 after him. 
 
 Looking round, the priest, to his horror and dismay, saw his 
 cook, with her eyes starting wildly out of their sockets, and her
 
 POBRA TIM 289 
 
 horrid mouth gaping as black as the hole of hell, chasing him, 
 nay, she was only a few yards behind. 
 
 The terrified priest spurred on the mare, which began to 
 gallop along the highway ; but withal she flew like an arrow, 
 the stallion was gaining ground at every step. The priest, faint- 
 ing with fear, lost all his presence of mind ; he then spurred 
 the mare across country. The poor animal reared at first, 
 and then began to gallop over the stony plain ; no obstacles 
 could stop her, she jumped over bushes and briars, stumbling 
 almost at every step. 
 
 The priest, palsied with terror, as ghastly pale as a ghost, 
 could not help turning round ; alas ! the cook was always at 
 his heels. His fear was such that he almost dropped from his 
 horse. He lashed the poor mare, forgetful of all the dangers 
 the plains of the Karst presented, for the ground yawned 
 everywhere — here in huge, deep clefts, there in bottomless 
 shafts ; or it sank in cup-like hollows, all bordered with sharp, 
 jagged rocks, or concealed in the bushes that surround them. 
 His only thought was to escape from the grim spectre that 
 pursued him. The lame and bleeding mare had stopped on 
 the brink of one of these precipices, trembling and convulsed 
 with terror. The priest, who had just turned round, dug his 
 spurs into the animal's sides ; she tried to clear the cleft, but 
 missed her footing, and rolled down in the abyss. The stallion, 
 seeing the mare disappear, stopped short, and uttered a loud 
 neigh, shivering with fear. The shock the poor beast had got 
 burst the bonds which held the corpse on his back, and the 
 cook was thus chucked over his head on the prone edge of 
 the pit. 
 
 A few days afterwards some peasants who happened to pass 
 by found the cook sitting, stiff and stark, astride on a rock, 
 seemingly staring, with eyes starting from their sockets and 
 her black mouth gaping widely, at the mangled remains of her 
 master's corpse. 
 
 As the priest had told the clerk that he was going away for 
 a few days, everybody came to the conclusion that his cook, 
 having followed him against his will, had frightened the mare 
 and thus caused her own and her master's death. 
 
 The smith having been left in possession of his uncle's house, 
 as well as of all his money and estates, and being, moreover, the 
 only legal heir, thus found himself all at once the richest man 
 in the village. As he was beloved by everybody, all rejoiced at 
 
 19
 
 290 POBRA TIM 
 
 his good luck, especially all those who owed money to the 
 priest and whose debts he cancelled. 
 
 " You liked this story ? " said the old man to Vranic, as soon 
 as he had finished. 
 
 " Yes," replied the tailor, thinking of the ghastly, livid 
 corpse, with grinning, gaping mouth, and glassy, goggle eyes, 
 galloping after the priest, and wondering whether she was 
 like the vampire. " Yes, it's an interesting story, but rather 
 gruesome." 
 
 " Well, but it's only a story, and, whether ghastly or lively, 
 it's only words, which — as the proverb says — are evanescent 
 as soap-bubbles. Now," continued he, "if you want to go off 
 to sleep, look at this," and he gave him a bit of cardboard, on 
 which were traced several circles; "look at it till you see all 
 these rings wheeling round. When they disappear, you'll be 
 asleep." 
 
 The old man put the bit of cardboard before Vranic, who 
 leaned his elbows on the table and his head between the palms 
 of his hands, and stared at the drawing. Five minutes after- 
 wards he was fast asleep. 
 
 When he awoke the next morning, his head was not only 
 aching, but his weakness had so much increased that he had 
 hardly strength enough to stand on his feet. He, therefore, 
 made up his mind to go to the parish priest, and lay the whole 
 matter before him. 
 
 Priests are everywhere but fetich men ; therefore, if they have 
 burnt witches for using charms and philters, it is simply 
 because these women trespassed on their own domains, and 
 were more successful than they themselves. Of what use 
 would a priest be if he could not pray for rain, give little sacrc 
 cceur bits of flannel as talismans against pestilence, or brass 
 medals to scare away the devil ? A priest who can do nothing 
 for us here below, must and will soon fall into discredit. The 
 hereafter is so vague and indefinite that it cannot inspire us 
 with half the interest the present does. 
 
 The priest whom Vranic consulted was of the same opinion 
 as the tailor. He, too, believed that probably his brother had 
 become a vampire, who nightly left the tomb to go and suck 
 his blood. For his own sake, as well as for that of the whole 
 town, it would be well to exorcise the ghost. The matter, 
 however, had to be kept a profound secret, as the Government
 
 POBRA riM 291 
 
 had put its veto on vampire-killing, and looked upon all such 
 practices as illegal. 
 
 It was, therefore, agreed that Vranic, together with his 
 relations and some friends, should go to the curate's about 
 ten o'clock at night ; there the curate would be waiting for 
 them with another priest ; from there the little party would 
 stealthily proceed to the cemetery where the ceremony was 
 to be held. 
 
 The Friday fixed upon arrived. The night was dark, the 
 weather sultry ; a storm had been brooding in the heavy 
 clouds o\'erhead and was now ready to burst every moment. 
 
 As soon as the muffled people got to the gate of the burying- 
 ground the mortuary chapel was opened to them by the sexton. 
 The priests put on their officiating robes, recited several orisons 
 appropriate to the occasion ; then, with the Cross carried before 
 them, bearing a holy-water sprinkler in their hands, followed by 
 Vranic and his friends — all with blessed tapers — they went up to 
 the murdered man's tomb. The priest then bade the sexton 
 dig up the earth and bring out the coffin. 
 
 The smell, as the pit was being dug lower down, became 
 always more offensive ; but when, at last, the rotting deal 
 coffin was drawn out and opened, it became overpoweringly 
 loathsome. The corpse, however, being found in a good state 
 of preservation, there could be no doubt that the dead man 
 was a vampire. It is true that the tapers which everyone 
 held gave but a dim and flickering light ; moreover, that 
 the stench was so sickening that all turned at once their 
 heads away in disgust ; still, they had all seen enough of 
 the corpse to declare it to be but seemingly dead. The priest, 
 standing as far from it as he possibly could, began at once 
 to exorcise it in the name of the Trinity, the Virgin and all 
 the saints ; to sprinkle it with holy water, commanding it 
 not to move, not to jump out of its box and run away — for 
 these ghouls are cunning devils, and if one is not on the 
 alert they skedaddle the moment the coffin is opened. Our 
 priest, however, was a match even for the dead man, and 
 his holy-water sprinkler was uplifted even before the lid of 
 the loathsome chest was loosened. 
 
 The storm which had been threatening the whole of that day 
 broke out at last. No sooner had the sexton begun to dig the 
 grave than the wind, which had been moaning and wailing 
 round the stones and wooden crosses, began to howl with a 
 
 19 — 2
 
 292 POBRA TIM 
 
 sinister sound. Then, just as the priest uttered the formula of 
 the exorcism — when the coffin was uncovered and the uncanny 
 corpse was seen — a flash of hirid lightning gleamed over its 
 livid features, and the rumbling thunder ended in a tremendous 
 crash ; the earth shook as if with the throes of childbirth ; hell 
 seemed to yawn and yield forth its fulsome dead. As the priest 
 sprinkled the corpse with holy water, the rain came down in 
 torrents as if to drown the world. 
 
 Although the noise was deafening, still some of the men 
 affirm that they heard the corpse lament and entreat not to be 
 killed ; but the priest, a tall, stalwart man of great strength and 
 courage, went on perfectly undaunted, paying no heed to the 
 vampire, mumbling his prayers as if the man prostrate before 
 him was some ordinary corpse and this was a commonplace, 
 every-day funeral. 
 
 The priest, having reached in his orisons the moment when 
 he uttered the name of Isukrst, or God the Son, Josko Vranic, 
 who stood by, shivering from head to foot, and looking like a 
 cat extracted from a tub of soap-suds, drew out a dagger from 
 under his coat, where it had been carefully concealed from the 
 ghost's sight, and stabbed the corpse. It was, of course, a 
 black steel stiletto, for only such a weapon can kill a vampire. 
 He should have stabbed the dead man in his neck and through 
 the throat, but he was so sick that he could hardly stand ; 
 besides, his candle that instant went out, and, moreover, he 
 was terribly frightened, for although he was stabbing but a 
 corpse, still that corpse was his own brother. 
 
 A flash of lightning which followed that instant of perfect 
 darkness showed him that the dagger, instead of being stuck 
 in the dead man's neck, was thrust in the right cheek. 
 
 The ceremony being now over, the priests and their attend- 
 ants hastened back to the chapel to take shelter from the rage 
 of the storm, as well as to escape from the pestilential stench. 
 
 The sexton alone remained outside to heap up the earth 
 again on the uncanny corpse, and shut up the grave. 
 
 " Are you sure you stabbed the corpse in the neck, severing 
 the throat, and thus preventing it from ever sucking blood 
 again ? " asked the priest. 
 
 " Yes, I believe I have," answered Vranic, with a whining 
 voice. 
 
 '■ I don't ask you what you believe ; have you done it — yes, 
 or no ? " said the ecclesiastic, sternly.
 
 POBRA TIM 293 
 
 " Well, just as I lifted my knife to stab, the candle went out. 
 I couldn't see at all ; the night was so dark ; you all were far 
 from me. Besides, as I bent down, the smell made me so sick 
 that " 
 
 " You don't know where you stabbed ? " added the priest, 
 angrily. 
 
 " He stabbed him in the cheek ! " said the sexton, coming in. 
 
 " Fool ! " burst out the priest, in a stentorian voice. 
 
 " I was sure this would be the case," cried out one of the 
 party. " Vranic has always been a bungler of a tailor." 
 
 " You have done a fine piece of work, you have, indeed, you 
 wretch ! " hissed the priest, looking at Vranic scornfully. 
 
 " You have endowed that cursed brother of yours with ever- 
 lasting life," said the other priest, " and now the whole town 
 will be infested with another vampire for ever ! " 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " asked Vranic, ready to burst out 
 crying. 
 
 " Think so ! " said all the other men, scornfully. " To bring 
 us here in the middle of the night with this storm, to stifle us 
 with this poisonous stench, and this is the result ! " 
 
 " But really " stammered Vranic. 
 
 "Anyhow, he'll not leave you till he has sucked the last drop 
 of blood from your body." 
 
 The storm having somewhat abated, all the company wended 
 their way homewards, taking no notice of the tailor, who 
 followed them like a mangy cur which everyone avoids. 
 
 That night, Vranic had not a wink of sleep. No one would 
 have him m his house ; nobody would sleep with him, for fear 
 of falling afterwards a prey to the vampire. As soon as he lay 
 down and tried to shut his eyes, the terrifying sight appeared 
 before him. The festering ghost with the horrible gash in the 
 cheek, just over the jaw-bone, was ever present to his eyes ; 
 nor could he get rid of the loathsome, sickening stench with 
 which his clothes, nay, his very body, seemed saturated. If a 
 mouse stirred he fancied he could see the ghost standing by 
 him. He hid his head under the bed-cover not to see, not to 
 hear, until he was almost smothered, and every now and then 
 he felt a human hand laid on his head, on his shoulder, on his 
 legs, and his teeth chattered with fear. 
 
 The storm ceased ; still, the sky remained overcast, and a 
 thin, drizzling rain had succeeded the interrupted showers. 
 The dreadful night came to an end ; he was happy to see the
 
 294 POBRA TIM 
 
 grey light of dawn succeed the appalling darkness. Daylight 
 brought with it happier thoughts. 
 
 " Perhaps," said he to himself, " my brother was no vampire, 
 after all ! Perhaps the blade of the dagger, driven in the cheek, 
 had penetrated slantingly into the neck, severed the throat, and 
 thus killed the vampire ; for something must have happened to 
 keep the ghost away." 
 
 On the next day Vranic remained shut up at home. He felt 
 sure that his own relations would henceforth hate him, and his 
 acquaintances would stone him if they possibly could. Nothing 
 makes a man not only unjust, but even cruel, like fear, and no 
 fear is greater than the vague dread of the unknown. That 
 whole day he tried to work, but his thoughts were always fixed 
 either on the festering corpse he had stabbed or on the coming 
 night. 
 
 Would the ghoul, reeking of hell, come and suck up his 
 blood ? 
 
 As the light waned his very streng-fh began to flow away, 
 his legs grew weak, his flesh shivered, the beating of his heart 
 grew ever more irregular. 
 
 He lighted his little oil-lamp before it was quite dark, looked 
 about stealthily, trembling lest he should see the dreaded 
 apparition before its time, started and shuddered at the 
 slightest noise. 
 
 He was weary and worn out by the emotions of the former 
 sleepless night ; still, he could not make up his mind to go to 
 bed. He placed his elbows on the board, buried his head 
 within his hands, and remained there brooding over his woes. 
 Without daring to lift up his eyes or look around, he at times 
 stretched out his hand, clutched a gourd full of spirits and took 
 a sip. Time passed, the twilight had faded away into soft, 
 mellow darkness without-; but in the tailor's room the little 
 flickering light only rendered the shadows grim and gruesome. 
 
 Drink and lassitude at last overpowered the poor man ; his 
 head began to get drowsy, his ideas more confused ; the heavi- 
 ness of sleep weighed him down. 
 
 All at once he was roused from his lethargy by a sound of 
 rushing winds. He hardly noticed it when it blew from afar, 
 like the slight breeze that ruffles the surface of the sea ; but, 
 now that it came nearer, he remembered having heard it some 
 evenings before. He grew pale, panted, and then his breath 
 stopped, convulsed as he was by fear.
 
 POBRA TIM 295 
 
 As upon the previous night, the wind was lost in the distance, 
 and then in the stillness of the night he heard the low, hushed 
 sound of footsteps coming from afar; but they drew nearer and 
 ever nearer, with a heavy, slow, metrical step. The night- 
 walker was near his house, at his door, on his threshold. The 
 loathsome, sickening smell of corruption grew stronger and 
 stronger. Now it was as overpoweringly nauseous as when he 
 had bent down to stab his dead brother. The sound of foot- 
 steps was now within his room ; the spectre must surely be by 
 his side. He kept his eyes tightly shut and his head bent 
 down. A cold perspiration was trickling from his forehead 
 and through his fingers on to the table. 
 
 All at once, something heavy and metallic was thrown in 
 front of him. Although his eyes were tightly shut, he knew 
 that it was the black dagger that his brother had come to bring 
 him back, and he was not mistaken. 
 
 Was there a chuckle just then ? 
 
 Almost against his will he opened his eyes, lifted his head, 
 and looked at his guest. The vampire was standing by his 
 side grinning at him hideously, notwithstanding the gash in his 
 right cheek. 
 
 '' Thank you, brother," said he, in a hollow, mocking voice, 
 " for what you did yesterday ; you have, in fact, given me ever- 
 lasting life ; and, as one good turn deserves another, you soon 
 will be a vampire along with me. Come, don't look so scared, 
 man ; it's a pleasant life, after all. We sleep soundly during the 
 day, and, believe me, no bed is so comfortable as the coffin, no 
 house so quiet as the grave ; but at night, when all the world 
 sleeps and only witches are awake, then we not only live, but 
 we enjoy life. No cankering care, no worry about the morrow. 
 We have only fun and frolic, for we suck, we suck, we suck." 
 
 Vranic heard the sound of smacking lips just by his neck, the 
 vampire had already laid his hands upon him. 
 
 He tried to rise, to struggle, but his strength and his senses 
 forsook him ; he uttered a choked, raucous sound, then his 
 breath again stopped spasmodically, his face grew livid, he 
 gasped for breath, his face and lips got to be of a violet hue, 
 his eyes shut themselves, as he dropped fainting in his chair.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE FACE IN THE MIRROR 
 
 A FEW days after Radonic had been brought back dying, 
 Uros was walking down the mountain path leading from the 
 heights of Montenegro to the Dalmatian coast. He was even 
 in higher spirits than he was usually wont to be. 
 
 His father had accompanied him to the frontier, and on the 
 way he had opened his heart to him, and told him of his love 
 for Milena, and even obtained his consent for his marriage, 
 which might take place as soon as her widowhood was over. 
 Bellacic, moreover, had promised to write to his friend, 
 Giulianic, to release him from his pledge. 
 
 The day, as it dawned now, was a glorious one, bright, clear 
 and fresh. After the storm and rain of the day before, the dark 
 crags of the Cernagora seemed but newly created, or only just 
 arisen out of the glittering waters that stretched down below 
 in a translucent, misty mass of sluggish streams flowing through 
 a cloudy ocean. 
 
 The breeze that blew from the mountain-tops seemed to him 
 like some exhilarating, life-giving fluid. Exercise — not pro- 
 longed as yet — rendered his senses of enjoyment keener ; he felt 
 happy with himself and with the world at large. He was in 
 one of those rare moods in which a man would like the earth 
 to be a human being, so as to clasp it fondly to his breast, as 
 he does a child, or the woman he loves. 
 
 Although he did not rejoice at Radonic's death, still, as he 
 loved Milena, it was natural that he was glad the obstacle to 
 his happiness had been removed, and a wave of joy seemed to 
 rise from his heart upwards as his nerves tingled with excite- 
 ment at the thought that in a few months she might be his 
 wife. 
 
 Therefore, with his blithe and merry character, ever prone to 
 look on the bright side of life, it is easy to imagine his 
 buoyancy of spirits as he walked down to Budua. Every step
 
 POBRATIM 297 
 
 was bringing him nearer her ; before the sun had reached its 
 zenith he would be at home, clasping her in his arms ; she — 
 Milena — would be his for ever, and he crossed his arms and 
 hugged himself in his excited state of mind. 
 
 Then he began to imagine Milenko's delight when he would 
 hear that he, too, could marry the girl he loved. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that he thought the earth a good 
 dwelling-place, and that life — taking it on the whole — was not 
 only worth living, but xer}- pleasant besides. It is true, he said 
 to himself, that man sometimes mars the work of God with his 
 passions ; still, karvarinas were the clouds of life, enhancing the 
 beauty of the bright days which followed sudden showers- 
 Sullen and malicious men like Vranic and his brood were buzz- 
 ing insects, more tedious than harmful to their fellow-creatures. 
 
 Such were the thoughts that flitted through his mind as he 
 walked briskly along, singing as blithely as a lark. As he had, 
 the day before, sent word to Milenko that he would be back on 
 the morrow, he stopped at every turn of the road, and, shading 
 his eyes with his hand, he looked down the road, hoping to see 
 his friend's graceful figure coming to meet him, as was sure 
 to be the case. 
 
 He had never been separated from Milenko for so many days, 
 and now that he was about to see him, his longing seemed to 
 increase at every step. 
 
 As for Milenko, being of a more sensitive character, and 
 having remained on board, he had missed his friend even more 
 keenly than Uros had done. He would have started to meet 
 him at early dawn, but he had been obliged to remain behind 
 and look after the ship's cargo, that had been delayed the even- 
 ing before on account of some trifling incident — for, sometimes, 
 things of no importance in themselves lead to the most dread- 
 ful calamities. Likewise, the string of one of Milenko's shoes 
 broke, so he stopped to tie it ; after some steps it broke again. 
 He stopped once more, pulled off his shoe, unlaced it, tied the 
 string as well as he could. After a quarter of an hour the string 
 of the other shoe broke too ; he had again to stop and mend 
 it. More than five minutes was thus lost ; besides, the loose 
 strings not only made him linger, but even slacken his pace. 
 
 Uros went down singing snatches of some merry song, little 
 thinking that the delay in meeting his friend would almost cost 
 him his life. 
 
 The news of Radonic's death had soon been spread about
 
 298 POBRA TIM 
 
 Budua, and he, who had never been a favourite during his Ufe- 
 time, became a hero after death. The Samson-Uke way in 
 which he had fought was extolled, the number of wounds he 
 had received, the hundreds of Turks he had killed went on daily 
 increasing. His dauntless courage, his bold feats, his cunning- 
 ness in council were becoming legendary ; in fact, he was for 
 some time a second Marko Kraglievic. The Vranite party — 
 especially after the night of the burying-ground affair — had 
 dwindled into nothing. The Radonites ruled the day. 
 
 Earless Vranic, as he was called everywhere, was galled by 
 his defeat ; his envious, jealous disposition could find no rest. 
 Being, moreover, doomed to a certain death, he found himself 
 like a stag at bay, and he almost felt at times the courage of 
 despair. 
 
 The radiant day which followed the dreadful night when the 
 vampire appeared to him brought no change to Vranic's gloom. 
 He was too much like a night-bird now to feel any pleasure at 
 the sight of the sunlit sky. Like an owl he shunned the light, 
 and only prowled about when every man had shut himself up 
 in his house. He dreaded the sight of a human face on account 
 of the scowl of hatred he was sure to see there, for he knew 
 that everyone looked upon him not as a man, but as the blood- 
 sucker he would soon become. 
 
 Having recovered from his fainting-fit after the visit of the 
 voukoudlak , he almost lost his senses again, seeing the black 
 dagger on the table in front of him. With a fluttering heart, 
 and aching head and tottering limbs, he walked about his room, 
 asking himself what he should do and how he could escape 
 the wretchedness of his present life. Suicide never came into 
 his head, for, in spite of all his misery, life still was dear to 
 him. The best thing would, perhaps, be to leave Budua for a 
 short time, and thus frustrate the vampire. 
 
 As he had to go and pay the priest for the ceremony of the 
 exorcism, he decided to ask, and perhaps take, his advice upon 
 what he was to do and where he should go. He went 
 grudgingly, indeed, to pay a large sum of money for a ceremony 
 which had been of no avail, and although it had not been the 
 priest's fault if the ghost had not been killed, still the money 
 was being thrown away, for all that. 
 
 Before leaving the house, he took the black dagger, washed 
 and scrubbed it with fine sand to cleanse it from the offensive 
 smell it had, then he put it in his breast pocket, where he had
 
 POBRATIM 299 
 
 had it some nights before. Witli heavy steps he trudged to- 
 wards the priest's house at dawn, before the people of the town 
 were up and about the streets. The priest, who was an early 
 riser, had just got up. Vranic, with unwilling hands, undid the 
 strings of his purse, and counted out, with many a sigh, the 
 sum agreed upon, for the priest would not bate a single cent. 
 Then Vranic, with his eyes gloating on the silver dollars, told 
 the clergyman how the vampire had appeared to him and 
 overcome him. 
 
 " Aye," said the priest, " I was afraid that would be the 
 case." 
 
 " And now I'd like to leave the town, for I might thus avoid 
 the vampire." 
 
 "The best thing you could do." 
 
 " Yes, but where am I to go in order to escape the ghost ? " 
 
 " I think the best place for you is the Convent of St. George. 
 Surely the spectre '11 not follow you there in those hallowed 
 walls, amongst all those saintly men." 
 
 " Yes, but will the brotherhood receive me ? " 
 
 " Tell them that I sent you. Moreover, I'll call myself 
 during the day and speak to them. May I add that, perhaps, 
 you'll be induced to turn caloyer yourself some day or other. 
 Meanwhile, a little charity to the convent would render your 
 stay more agreeable. You know the brotherhood is poor." 
 
 Vranic thanked the priest, and promised to be guided by his 
 advice ; still, he could not help thinking of all the money this 
 new scheme might cost him. It is true, if he turned friar, he 
 might get rid of the vampire, but would he not also lose all his 
 money into the bargain ? 
 
 Which was the greater evil of the two — to be sucked of all 
 his blood, or drained of all his money ? 
 
 Out of the town gate, far from the haunts and scowling faces 
 of men, he breathed a little more at ease. Were they not all 
 a set of grasping, covetous ghouls, whose only aim was to 
 wrench all he had from him ? The dazzling sunshine and the 
 dancing waves, far from soothing him, only irritated him, for he 
 fancied that all the world was blithe, merry and happy, and he 
 alone was miserable. He thought how happ}' he, too, might have 
 been had that cursed karvarina not taken place. He had never 
 felt any deep hatred against Radonic, nor had he any real 
 reason for disliking him ; for, to be true to himself, his brother's 
 murder had been an incident, not an accident, in his life. It
 
 300 POBRA TIM 
 
 was not Radonic's fault if the ghost-seer had become a vampire 
 after his death. All his grudge was rather against Bellacic, 
 who had helped to frustrate him of a good round sum of money, 
 owed to him for his brother's blood. He hated him especially 
 for having inflicted a bodily and moral wound by cutting off his 
 ear, rendering him thus an object of everlasting scorn in the 
 whole town. 
 
 Radonic was dead,' but Bellacic lived to triumph over him. 
 If he could only wreak his vengeance upon him he might pacify 
 the vampire's rage ; if not, he could always make his escape into 
 the convent. With these thoughts in his head, he clutched the 
 handle of the dagger and, as he did so, he shivered from head 
 to foot with a kind of hellish delight. 
 
 Just then he fancied he heard a distant chuckle and looked 
 round. He could see nobody. It was only his imagination. 
 Almost at the same time he heard a voice whisper softly 
 in his ear : 
 
 "Use this dagger against my enemies better than you did 
 against me, and then, perhaps, you might be free." 
 
 Was it his brother ordering him what he was to do ? Instead 
 of stopping at the convent, should he go on to Montenegro, 
 waylay Bellacic and murder him ? 
 
 He had been walking, or rather, crawling quietly on, for 
 about two hours ; the sun was high up in the sky, the day 
 was hot, the road dusty, and, worn out by sleeplessness, by 
 worry and, above all, by the great loss of blood, he was now 
 overcome by weariness and weakness. The monastery was 
 at last in sight ; still, he felt as if he could hardly crawl any 
 further on ; so, undecided as he was, he sat down at the 
 side of some laurel-bushes to rest and make up his mind as 
 to what he was to do. 
 
 He had not been sitting there a quarter of an hour, blinking 
 at the sun, like an owl, when he heard snatches of an unknown 
 song, wafted from afar. It was not one of the plaintive lays of 
 his own country, but a lively, blithe Italian canzonet, with trills 
 that sounded like the merry warbling of a lark. The singing 
 stopped — it began again, then stopped once more; after 
 that he heard a light, brisk step coming towards him. A 
 man who could sing and walk in such a way must surely 
 be happy, he thought. Then, without knowing who the 
 man was, he hated him for being happy. Why should some 
 people have all the sweetness, and others all the gall of life?
 
 POBRATIM 301 
 
 he asked himself. Is not this world a fool's paradise for 
 him and a dungeon for me ? In my wretchedness he seems 
 to taunt me with his mirth. Well, if ever I become a vampire, 
 the first blood I'll suck is that man's ; and I'll drain the very 
 last drop, for it must be warm and sweet. 
 
 Just then the light-hearted singer passed by the laurel - 
 bushes, without perceiving the owl-like man half hidden be- 
 hind them. Vranic, lifting up his head, saw the flushed face, 
 the sparkling eyes, the red and parted lips of his enemy's son — 
 the youth \vho, by his beauty and his criminal love, had been 
 the cause of all the mischief. Had it not been for him, his 
 brother would probably not have been murdered, and, what 
 was far worse, become a voukoudlak. Instinctively he clasped 
 the handle of his dagger, and the words he had heard a little 
 while before rang once more in his ears, urging him to make 
 good use of the knife now that an opportunity offered itself. 
 Besides, would not his revenge be a far keener one in killing 
 this young man, his father's only son, than in murdering 
 Bellacic himself? This was real karvarina, and his lost ear 
 would be dearly paid for. 
 
 Uplifted by a strength which was not his own, urged on 
 almost unconsciously, Vranic jumped up and ran after the 
 merry youth. 
 
 Uros just at that moment had perceived Milenko at a 
 distance, and, hurrying down to meet him, he, in his joy, 
 had not heard the fiend spring like a tiger from behind the 
 bush and rush at him with uplifted knife. 
 
 Milenko, seeing Vranic appear all at once, with a dagger in 
 his hand, stopped, uplifted both his hands, and uttered a loud 
 cry of terror, threat and anger. 
 
 Uros, for an instant, could not understand what was happen- 
 ing ; but hearing someone running after him, and already close 
 to his heels, he turned round, and to his horror he saw Josko 
 Vranic scowling at him. The face, with its blinking eyes and 
 all its nerves twitching frightfully, had a fierce and fiendish 
 expression — it was, in fact, just as he had seen it in the glass 
 on New Year's Eve, at the fatal stroke of twelve. 
 
 A moment of overpowering superstitious terror came over 
 Uros; he knew that his last hour had arrived. In his distracted 
 state, Uros had only time to lift up his arm in an attitude of 
 self-defence, but Vranic was already upon him, plunging the 
 sharp-pointed blade in his breast. The youth uttered a low.
 
 302 POBRA TIM 
 
 muffled groan, staggered, put his hands instinctively to the 
 deep gash, as if to stop the blood from all rushing out ; then 
 he fell senseless on the ground. 
 
 Vranic plucked the poniard out of the wound mechanically ; 
 his arm fell heavily of its own weight. Then, struck with a 
 sudden terror, not because he saw Milenko rushing up, but 
 because he was bewildered at what he had so rashly done, 
 he, after standing quite still for a moment, turned round and 
 fled. 
 
 Milenko had already rushed to his friend's side ; he was 
 clasping him in his arms, lifting him up with the tender fond- 
 ness of a mother nursing a sickly babe. Alas ! all his loving 
 care seemed vain ; the point of the dagger must have entered 
 within his heart, and death had been instantaneous. 
 
 Milenko did not lose his presence of mind for an instant ; 
 nor did he try to run after the murderer. He took off his 
 broad sash which he wore as a belt, tore up his shirt, rolled 
 a smooth stone in the rag, and with this pad (to stop up the 
 blood) he bandaged up the wound as tightly as he possibly 
 could. Then he took up his friend in his arms, and although 
 Uros was a heavier weight than himself, still his life of a sailor 
 had strengthened his muscles to such a degree that he carried 
 his burden, if not with ease, at least, not with too great difficulty, 
 down to the neighbouring convent. 
 
 It was well known in town that some of the holy men were 
 versed in medicine, and especially that the secret of composing 
 salves, and the knowledge of simples with which to heal 
 deadly wounds, was transmitted by one friar on his death-bed 
 to another. Still, when Milenko had laid down his friend upon 
 a bed, the wisest of these wise men shook their heads gravely 
 and declared the case to be a desperate one. The head 
 surgeon said that, if life were not already extinct — as Milenko 
 had believed — still the youth's recovery could only be brought 
 about by a miracle, for he was already beyond all human 
 help. 
 
 Milenko felt his legs giving way. A cold, damp draught 
 seemed to blow on his face. 
 
 " He might," continued the old man, "last some hours; he 
 might even linger on for some days." 
 
 "Anyhow," added another caloyer, "we have time to admin- 
 ister the Holy Sacrament and prepare him for heaven." 
 
 " Oh, yes! there is time for that," quoth the doctor, shrug-
 
 POBRATIM 303 
 
 ging his shoulders ; " but, before the wine and bread, I'll 
 prepare the cathartic water with which to wash the wound, 
 for while there is life a doctor must not give up hope." 
 
 "Then," said Milenko, falteringly, " I can leave him to your 
 care, and run and fetch his mother; he'll not pass away till my 
 return ? " 
 
 " Not if you make every possible haste." 
 
 " You promise ? " 
 
 " He is in God's hands, my son." 
 
 With a heavy heart, and with the tears ever trickling down 
 his cheeks, Milenko ran down the mountain, and all the way 
 from the convent to the gates of Budua. He stopped to take 
 breath before Bellacic's house, and then he went in, and, com- 
 posing his face as well as he could, he gently broke the terrible 
 news to the forlorn mother. 
 
 Mara was a most courageous woman. Far from fainting and 
 requiring all attendance upon herself, she bethought herself 
 at once of the difficulty in the way, for she knew that no women 
 were admitted into a convent of monks. One person alone 
 might help her. This was her uncle, a priest of high degree, 
 and a most important personage in the town. 
 
 She hastened to his house, and, having explained matters to 
 him, she implored him to start at once with her for the Convent 
 of St. George and obtain for her the permission she required. 
 The good man, although he hated walking, was not only very 
 fond of his niece, but loved Uros as his own son, so he acceded 
 at once to her request and set out with her, notwithstanding that 
 it was nearly dinner-time, and not exactly an hour suited for a 
 long up-hill walk. Milenko, having broken the news to Mara, 
 hastened to his own house to inform his parents of the great 
 misfortune. His father, snatching up a loaf of bread and a 
 gourd of wine, started at once with him. He would go as far 
 as the convent, enquire there how Uros was getting on, and 
 then hasten on to Montenegro and inform Bellacic of what had 
 taken place. When they all got to the convent they found that 
 Uros was still alive and always unconscious. 
 
 Just when Milenko had got back to the convent he remem- 
 bered that, in his hurry to go and return, he had forgotten one 
 person, dearer to his friend, perhaps, even than father or 
 mother ; that person was Milena. 
 
 When the news of Radonic's death reached Budua, Milena 
 made up her mind to return to her father's house. Still,
 
 304 POBRA TIM 
 
 she was rather weak to undertake the journey, and, moreover, 
 she would not go there until Uros had come back. 
 
 On the morning on which Uros was expected she had gone 
 to her own house, to put things in order previous to her de- 
 parture, and Mara had promised to come and see her that 
 afternoon, and take her home with her. 
 
 Time passed ; Milena was sitting in her house alone, waiting 
 for her friend. At every step she heard outside, her heart would 
 begin to beat faster, and with unsteady steps she would go to 
 the window, hoping to see Uros and his mother ; but she was 
 always disappointed. Her sufferings had told their tale upon 
 her thin pale face, which, though it had lost all its freshness, 
 had acquired a new and more ethereal kind of beauty. Her 
 large and lustrous eyes — staring at vacancy — seemed to be 
 gazing at some woful, soul - absorbing vision. The whole of 
 that day she had been a prey to the most gloomy forebodings. 
 
 All at once a little urchin of about four or five summers stood 
 on the doorstep. 
 
 " Gospa Milena," lisped the little child, " I've come to see 
 you." 
 
 It had been a daring deed to wander all the way from home 
 by himself, and he was rather frightened. 
 
 This child was the son of one of Mara's neighbours, whom 
 Milena had of late made a pet of, and whom she had some- 
 times taken along with her when coming to her house. 
 
 Milena turned round and looked at the little child, that 
 might well have been taken for an angel just alighted from 
 heaven, for the slanting rays of the setting sun shining through 
 his fair, dishevelled, curly locks seemed to form a kind of halo 
 round his little head. 
 
 " Have you come all the way from home to see me ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the child, staring at her to see whether she was 
 cross. " I've come for you to tell me a story." 
 
 Milena caught up the boy and covered him with kisses. She 
 was about to ask him if he knew whether Uros had returned, 
 but the question lingered for an instant on her lips ; then she 
 blushed, and feared to frame her thoughts in words. Anyhow, 
 it was a very good excuse to shut up her house and take the 
 little boy back home. 
 
 " Will you tell me a story ? " persisted the urchin. 
 
 " Yes," said Milena, smiling, " for you must be tired and 
 hungry, too."
 
 POBRA TIM 305 
 
 She went into the orchard behind the house, and presently 
 came back with a huge peach, which made the child's eyes 
 glisten with pleasure. 
 
 " Now, come and sit down here, and when you've finished 
 your peach I'll take you home." 
 
 Thereupon she sat down on her favourite seat, the doorstep, 
 and the child nestled by her side. 
 
 ■' What story shall I tell you ? " 
 
 " One you've already told me," replied the boy, for, like 
 almost all children, he liked best the stories he already knew. 
 
 Milena then began the oft-repeated tale of 
 
 THE MAN WHO SERVED THE DEVIL. 
 
 " Once a farmer's only son married a very young girl " 
 
 " How old was she ? " interrupted the child. 
 
 " She was sixteen." 
 
 " Last time you told me she was fifteen." 
 
 " So she was, but that was a year ago. They had a very 
 grand wedding, to which all the people of the village were 
 invited " 
 
 " Not the village, the town," said the child. 
 
 " You are right," added Milena, correcting herself. 
 
 " For eight days they danced the Kolo every night, and had 
 grand dinners and suppers." 
 
 " What had they for dinner ? " 
 
 "They had roast lambs, castradina, chickens, geese " 
 
 " And also sausages ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and ever so many other good things." 
 
 " But what had they for supper ? " 
 
 " They had huge loaves of milk - bread and cakes with 
 raisins " 
 
 " Had they also peaches ? " asked the boy, with his mouth 
 full, whilst the juice of his own luscious peach was trickling 
 down his chin. 
 
 " Yes ; they had also grapes, melons and pomegranates ; so 
 when every guest had eaten till he could hardly stand, all 
 squatted on the floor and sucked sticks of sugar-candy. When 
 the eight days' feasting was over, the bridegroom weighed 
 himself and, to his dismay, found that he was eight pounds 
 lighter than on the eve of his marriage." 
 
 " Why ? " asked the child, with widely-opened eyes. 
 
 " Because," answered Milena, with a slight smile and the 
 
 20
 
 306 POBRATIM 
 
 faintest of blushes, " because, I suppose, he had danced too 
 much." 
 
 " But if he ate till he couldn't stand ? " 
 
 " Anyhow," continued Milena, " he was so frightened when 
 he saw how much he had lost in weight that he made up 
 his mind to run away and leave his wife at home." 
 
 " But why ? " quoth the urchin. 
 
 " Because he thought that if he kept getting thin at that 
 rate, nothing would soon be left of him. He, therefore, made 
 a bundle of his clothes and went off in the middle of the night. 
 He walked and walked, and after a few days, at early dawn, 
 he got to a bleak and desolate country, where there was 
 nothing but huge rocks, sharp flints, and sandy tracts of 
 ground. Far off he saw a large castle, with high stone 
 walls and big iron gates. Being very tired and not seeing 
 either a tree or a bush as far as eye could reach, he went 
 and knocked at one of the gates. An elderly gentleman, 
 dressed in black, came to open, and asked him what he 
 wanted. 
 
 " ' I come,' said the bridegroom, ' to see if you are, perhaps, 
 in want of a serving-man.' 
 
 " 'You come in the nick of time,' said the old man, grinning. 
 ' I'll take you as my cook ; you'll not have much to do.' 
 
 " ' But,' answered the young man, ' I'm not very clever 
 as a cook.' 
 
 " ' It doesn't matter; you'll only have to keep a pot boiling 
 and be ever stirring what's in it.' 
 
 " He then led the young man into a kind of underground 
 kitchen, where there was an immense pot hanging on a hook, 
 and underneath a roaring fire was burning. Then the old 
 gentleman gave the youth a ladle as big as a shovel, and bade 
 him stir continually, and every now and then add more fuel to 
 the fire. 
 
 " The youth stirred on and on for twenty-five years, and then 
 he grew tired and stopped for a while. When he was about to 
 begin again he heard a voice coming out of the cauldron, which 
 said : 
 
 " ' You've been mixing us up for a good long while ; couldn't 
 you let us have a little rest ? ' 
 
 " The cook — who was no more a youth, but an elderly man 
 — got frightened. He left the kitchen and went to find his 
 master.
 
 POBRATIM 307 
 
 " ' Well,' said the elderly gentleman, who was not a day older 
 than he had been twenty-five years before, ' what is it you 
 want ? ' 
 
 " ' I'm rather tired of always stirring that pot, and I'd like to 
 go home.' 
 
 " ' Quite right,' replied the master. ' I suppose you want 
 your wages ? ' 
 
 " He then went to an iron box and took out two big sacks of 
 gold coins. 
 
 " ' You have served me faithfully, and I'll pay you accord- 
 ingly. This money is yours.' 
 
 " The man took the money and thanked his master. 
 
 " ' I'll give you, moreover, some advice, which is, perhaps, 
 worth more than the money itself. Listen to my words, and 
 remember them. Upon leaving me, always take the high road ; 
 on no account go through lanes and byways. Never put up 
 for the night at little hostelries, but always stop at the largest 
 inns. Whenever you are about to commit some rash act, defer 
 your purpose till the morrow. Lastly, when people speak badly 
 of the devil, tell them that he is less black than he is painted.' 
 
 " The man thanked his master and went off. He walked for 
 some time on the highway, and then he met another traveller, 
 who was walking in the same direction. After a few hours 
 they came to a crossway. 
 
 " ' Let us take this path, for we'll get to the next town two 
 hours sooner,' said the traveller, 
 
 " The devil's cook was about to follow the stranger's advice, 
 when he heard his master's words ringing in his ears : ' Always 
 take the high road, and on no account go through lanes and 
 byways.' 
 
 " He, therefore, told his fellow-traveller how he had pledged 
 his word to his master to follow his advice. As neither could 
 persuade the other, they parted company, promising each other 
 to meet again at nightfall, at the neighbouring town. 
 
 " As soon as the devil's cook reached the inn where he was 
 to spend the night, he asked for his new friend, and, on the 
 morrow, he was grieved to hear that a wayfarer, answering to 
 the traveller's description, had been murdered the day before, 
 when crossing the lonely byway leading to the town. 
 
 '' The devil's cook set out once more on his way, and he was 
 soon overtaken by a party of merry pedlars, all journeying 
 towards his native town, where, a few days afterwards, there 
 
 20 — 2
 
 3o8 POBRA TIM 
 
 was to be a fair held in honour of a patron saint. He made 
 friends with all of them, especially as he bought silk kerchiefs, 
 dresses and trinkets, as presents for his wife. They trudged 
 along the high road, avoiding all short cuts, lanes and byways. 
 In the evening they came to a large village, where they were to 
 pass the night. 
 
 " ' Let us stop here,' said one of the party, pointing to a 
 tavern by the roadside ; ' I know the landlord ; the cooking is 
 very good, nowhere can you get a better glass of wine ; and 
 besides, it is much cheaper than at the large inn farther down.' 
 
 " The devil's cook was already on the threshold, when he 
 again remembered his master's words : 
 
 " ' Never put up at little hostelries, but always stop at the 
 larger inns.' 
 
 " He, therefore, parted from his company, and went off by 
 himself to the next inn. 
 
 " He had his supper by himself, and then, being very tired, 
 he went off to bed. In the middle of the night he was 
 awakened by a very loud noise and a great bustle. He got out 
 of bed, and, going to the window, he saw the sky all red, and 
 the village seemed to be in flames. He went downstairs, 
 and he was told that the little tavern by the roadside was 
 burning. It appears that the travellers who had stopped there 
 had all got drunk. Somehow or other they had set fire to the 
 house, and, in their sleep, had all got burnt. 
 
 " The devil's cook was again grateful to his master for his 
 good advice, and on the morrow he once more set out on 
 his way alone. 
 
 " In the evening he at last reached his native town. He was 
 surprised at the many changes that had taken place since he 
 had left it twenty-five years before. On the square, just in 
 front of his own house, a large inn had been built ; therefore, 
 instead of going at once to his wife's, he went to pass the night 
 at the inn, and see what was taking place at home. 
 
 " From the windows of the inn he saw all his house illumi- 
 nated, and people coming in and going out as if some wedding 
 or other grand feast were taking place. Then, in one of the 
 rooms of the first floor he saw his wife — now a buxom matron — 
 together with two handsome youths in priest's attire. To his 
 horror and dismay, he saw her hugging and fondling the young 
 men, who were covering her with kisses. At this sight he got 
 into such a rage that he took out his pistol."
 
 POBRATIM 309 
 
 "No," said the child, interrupting, "he took up his gun, 
 which was in a corner of the room." 
 
 " Quite right," answered Milena ; " he took up his gun, aimed 
 at his wife, and was about to shoot, when he fancied he heard 
 his master's voice saying : 
 
 " ' Whenever you are about to commit some rash act, put off 
 your purpose till the morrow.' 
 
 "He, therefore, thought he would postpone his revenge till 
 the next day, and he went downstairs to have his supper. 
 
 " ' Who lives opposite,' he asked of the landlord, ' in that 
 house where they seem to be having such grand doings ? ' 
 
 " ' A very virtuous woman,' quoth the host, ' whose husband 
 disappeared in a strange, mysterious way on the eighth day of 
 the wedding feast, and has never been heard of since.' 
 
 " ' And she never married again ? ' 
 
 " ' No, of course not.' 
 
 " ' But who are those two handsome priests that are with 
 her?' 
 
 " ' Those are her two boys, twins born shortly after the 
 marriage. The house is illuminated as to-morrow the two 
 young men are to be consecrated priests, and their mother is 
 giving a feast in their honour.' 
 
 " On the morrow the husband went home, made himself known, 
 presented each of his two sons with a sack of gold coins, gave 
 his wife all the beautiful presents he had bought for her ; then 
 he went to church and assisted at the ceremony of the conse- 
 cration. After that he gave all his old friends a splendid feast, 
 which lasted eight days ; and he told them how, for twenty-five 
 years, he had served the devil, who was by no means as black 
 as he is painted." 
 
 " I wonder," said the child, " if he got thin again after the 
 feast." 
 
 " I don't know," replied Milena, "for the story stops there." 
 
 " No, it doesn't, for my papa said that many people tried to 
 go and offer themselves as cooks to the devil, but that they had 
 never been heard of since then." 
 
 " And now I'll take you home. Perhaps we'll meet gospa 
 Mara on our way." 
 
 " No, we'll not meet her," said the child, abruptly. 
 
 " Why? Because Uros has come home ? " 
 
 " But Uros hasn't come home." 
 
 " How do you know ? "
 
 3IO POBRATIM 
 
 " I know, because Capitan Milenko came this morning and 
 told gospa Mara that Josko Vranic had killed Uros, and so she 
 went off at once to the Convent of St. George, where " 
 
 Milena heard no more. A deadly faintness came over her ; 
 she loosened the grasp of the door she had clutched, her legs 
 sank under her, and she fell lifeless on the ground. 
 
 The urchin looked at her astonished. He, for a moment, 
 gave up sucking his peach-stone ; then he turned on his heels 
 and scampered home to inform his mother about what had 
 happened.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE CONVENT OF ST. GEORGE 
 
 When Mara reached the convent, it was with the greatest 
 difficulty, and only through the persuasive influence of her 
 uncle, Danko Kvekvic, that she was allowed to see her son. 
 Uros, moreover, had to be transported from the cell into which 
 he had been carried, into a room near the church — a sort of 
 border-land between the sanctuary and the convent. Even 
 there she was only allowed to remain till nightfall. 
 
 " Tell me," said Mara, to the ministering monk (a man more 
 than six feet in height, and who, in his black robes, seemed a 
 real giant), "tell me, do you think he might pass away during 
 the night while I am not with him ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think so. He is young and strong; he is one of 
 our sturdy race — a lugo Slav, not a Greek, or an effete Turk 
 eaten away by vice and debauchery. He'll linger on." 
 
 " Still, there is no hope ? " 
 
 " Who can tell ? I never said there was none. For me, as 
 long as there is a faint spark of life, there is always hope." 
 
 " Still, you have administered the sacrament to him ? " 
 
 " You wouldn't have him die like a dog, would you ? " 
 answered the priest, combing out his long white beard with 
 his fingers. 
 
 " No, certainly not." 
 
 " Besides, we all take the sacrament when we are in bodily 
 health. Your son came to himself for a few moments, and 
 we seized the opportunity to administer to him the Holy 
 Communion and pray with him ; it does no harm to the 
 body, whilst it sets the troubled mind at ease." 
 
 Danko Kvekvic, Mara and Milenko crossed themselves 
 devoutly. 
 
 " It cannot be denied," continued the monk, " that our 
 patient lies there with both his feet in the grave. Still, God
 
 312 P OB RAT I M 
 
 is omnipotent. I have seen many a brave man fall on the 
 battlefield " 
 
 " You have been in war ? " asked Milenko, astonished. 
 
 " Bearing the Cross and tending the wounded." 
 
 " Still, it is said that at times you wielded the gun with 
 remarkable dexterity," interrupted Danko Kvekvic, with a 
 keen smile. 
 
 " Do people say so ? Well, what if they do ? I am sure no 
 harm is meant by it ; for, if my memory does not deceive me, 
 the very same thing was said about a priest who is no monk of 
 our order, Danko Kvekvic, and who, for all that, is said to be 
 a holy man." 
 
 " Well, well, we all try to serve our God and our country 
 as well as we can ; and no doubt we have done our best to 
 save our flag from being trampled in the dust, or a fellow- 
 countryman's life when in danger. But I interrupted you ; tell 
 me what you have seen on the battlefield." 
 
 " Nothing, except blood spilt ; but I was going to say that 
 I've seen many a man linger within the jaws of death for days 
 together, and then be snatched from danger when his state 
 became desperate." 
 
 " By your skill, father," said Mara, " for we are all aware 
 that you know the secrets of plants, and that you have effected 
 wonderful cures by means of simples." 
 
 " Aye, aye ! perhaps I have been more successful than the 
 learned doctors of Dunaj " (Vienna) "or Benetke" (Venice); 
 " still, shall I tell you the secret of my cures ? " 
 
 Mara opened her eyes in wonder. " I thought it was only 
 a death-bed secret transmitted from one dying monk to his 
 successor," said she. 
 
 " We are not wizards," said the old man, with a pleasant 
 smile ; " we make no mystery of the herbs we seek on the 
 mountains, and even the youngest lay-brother is taught to con- 
 coct an elixir or make a salve for wounds." 
 
 " But the secret you spoke of ? " said Mara. 
 
 " It is the pure life-giving air of our mountains, the sobriety 
 of our life, our healthy work in the open fields or on the wide 
 sea. Our sons have in their veins their mothers' blood, for 
 every Serb or Montenegrin woman is a heroine, a brave juna- 
 kinja, who has often suckled her babe with blood instead of 
 milk. These are the secrets with which we heal dying men." 
 
 Then, turning to Milenko, he added :
 
 POBRATIM 313 
 
 " You, too, must be a brave young man, and wise even 
 beyond your years. You have the courage of reason, for you do 
 not lose your head in moments of great danger. We have 
 already heard how you saved several precious lives from the 
 waves, and now, if your friend does recover — and, with God's 
 help, let us hope he will — it is to you, far more than to anyone 
 else, that he will owe his life. A practised surgeon could 
 surely not have bandaged the wound and stopped the hemorr- 
 hage better than you did. Your father should have sent you to 
 study medicine in one of the great towns." 
 
 Mara stretched forth her hand and clasped Milenko. 
 
 "You never told me what you had done, my boy," said she, 
 while the tears trickled down her cheeks. 
 
 " What I did was little enough ; besides, did Uros ever tell 
 you how he saved my life and dragged me out of prison at 
 Ragusa ? " and Milenko thereupon proceeded to tell them all 
 how he had been accused of manslaughter, and in what a 
 wonderful way he had been saved by his friend. 
 
 " In my grief I have always one consolation," said Mara ; 
 " should the worst happen, one son is left me, for they are 
 pobratitn,'' said she, turning to the monk. 
 
 " What has become of the murderer ? Has he been 
 arrested ? " asked Kvekvic of Milenko. 
 
 " He took to the rocks and disappeared like a horned adder. 
 At that moment I only thought of Uros, who would have bled 
 to death had he been left alone." 
 
 " Oh, those Vranics are a cursed race ! The Almighty God 
 has not put a sign on them for nothing. This one has a cast in 
 his eye, so that men should keep aloof from him. They are all 
 a peevish, fretful, malicious race," said Kvekvic. 
 
 " Their blood turns to gall," added the monk. 
 
 " Oh, but I'll find him out, even if he hide himself in the 
 most secret recess!" quoth Milenko, turning towards Mara. 
 " I'll not rest till my brother's blood is avenged." 
 
 "' Tooth for tooth, eye for eye,' say our Holy Scriptures," 
 and Danko Kvekvic crossed himself. 
 
 " Amen ! " added the monk, following his example. 
 
 Just then Uros opened his eyes. He came to his senses for a 
 few seconds, and, seeing his mother, his pupils seemed to 
 dilate with a yearning look of love. She pressed his hand, and 
 he slightly — almost imperceptibly — returned the pressure. His 
 lips quivered ; he was about to speak, when he again closed
 
 314 POBRATIM 
 
 his eyes and his senses began once more to wander. The 
 monk bathed his hps with the cordial he was administering 
 him. The patient, apparently, had again fallen off to sleep. 
 
 Just then the sound of the convent bell was heard. 
 
 " I am sorry," said the old caloyer, turning towards his 
 guests, " but I have to dismiss you now ; the bell you have just 
 heard summons us to vecernjca. When our prayers are over, 
 the doors of our house are closed for the night — no one comes 
 in or goes out after evensong." 
 
 " But we two can surely remain with you to-night," said 
 Kvekvic, pointing to Milenko. 
 
 " Surely Father Vjekoslav will readily give you permission 
 to be our honoured guests as long as you like, if he has not 
 already granted it ; but " (here the old man hesitated). 
 
 " But what ? " asked Kvekvic. 
 
 "The gospa,'' said the monk, turning towards Mara, "must 
 return home." 
 
 " Yes, I know," added Mara, sighing as she got up. 
 
 " Still," quoth the good caloyer, " we shall take great care of 
 him, and to-morrow morning you can come as early as you like." 
 
 The poor mother thanked the good old man ; she slightly 
 brushed off the curls from her boy's forehead, kissed him with 
 a deep-drawn sigh, and with tearful eyes rose to go. 
 
 " Thank you for all the care you have taken of my child ; 
 thank you, uncle Danko, for all your kindness," and she kissed 
 the priest's and the monk's hands, according to the custom of 
 the Slavs. 
 
 Just then, a young lay-monk came to inform Mara that some- 
 one was asking for her. It was Milenko's mother, who had 
 come up to the convent door to ask how Uros was getting on, 
 and to see if she could be of any use, for Milenko, with his 
 usual thoughtfulness, had begged his mother to come in the 
 evening and accompany her friend back home. 
 
 " Go, Milos, and join the brethren in their prayers," said 
 Danko Kvekvic. " I shall recite my orisons here, beside my 
 nephew's bed." 
 
 The monk and Milenko accompanied the forlorn mother to 
 the convent door, and bade her be of good cheer ; then they 
 went to church to take part in the evening service. 
 
 When the candles were all put out, and echoes of the 
 evening-song had died away, they all slowly, and with stately 
 steps, wended their way to the refectory, where a simple repast
 
 FOB RATI M 315 
 
 was spread out for them. Being Friday, the frugal supper con- 
 sisted of vegetarian food ; there were tomatoes baked with 
 bread-crumbs, egg-plants stuffed with rice, and other such 
 oriental dishes. The dessert, especially, was a sumptuous 
 one, not only on account of the thickly-curded sour milk, 
 but of the splendid fruit which the convent garden afforded. 
 There were luscious plums as big as eggs; large, juicy and fra- 
 grant peaches, the flesh of which clung to the stone ; huge 
 water-melons, the inside of which looked like crimson snow, and 
 melted away as such, and sweet-scented musk-melons ; above 
 all, big clusters of grapes of all shapes and hues; rosy-tinted, 
 translucent berries, looking like pale rubies ; dark purple drupes 
 covered with pearly dust, which seemed like bunches of dam- 
 sons ; big white Smyrna grapes of a waxy hue, the small sultana 
 of Corinth, and the long grapes that look like amber tears. 
 
 Milenko, notwithstanding the grief he felt, made a hearty 
 meal, for, except a bit of bread, broken off as he walked along 
 from his father's loaf, and a draught of wine, he had scarcely 
 tasted food the whole of that day ; therefore, he was more 
 than hungry. Supper being over, and a short thanksgiving 
 prayer having been offered, Milenko found himself all at once 
 surrounded by the monks, who pressed him with questions, for 
 childish curiosity was their prevailing weakness. 
 
 They were especially interested in the theatrical performances 
 the young man had witnessed at the Fenice of Venice, for they 
 were amazed to hear that the grand ladies of the town, all 
 glittering with costly gems, sat in boxes, where they exhibited 
 to all eyes their naked arms and breasts, whilst they looked 
 at young girls in transparent skirts hardly reaching their knees, 
 who kept dancing on the tips of their toes, or twirled their legs 
 over their partners' heads. Hearing such lewdness the saintly 
 men were so greatly shocked that they crossed themselves de- 
 murely, and the eldest shook their heads, and said, reproachfully, 
 that such dens of infamous resort were not places for modest 
 young men to go to. 
 
 After that, Milenko told them of the last great invention, the 
 boats that went without sails, but which had two huge wheels 
 moved by fire ; at which the monks again crossed themselves, 
 and said that those were the devil's inventions, and that if 
 things continued at such a rate, God would have to send 
 another flood and destroy the world once more. 
 
 Milenko would have willingly escaped from his persecutors.
 
 3i6 POBRATIM 
 
 but he still had to answer many questions about his life on 
 board, the hardships he had had to undergo, the storms his 
 ship had met with. 
 
 The medical monk had gone to take his place at Uros' bed- 
 side, and Danko Kvekvic, after having had some supper, had 
 come out to breathe the fresh air on the convent's terrace, 
 where all the caloyers had assembled before retiring to rest. 
 
 The scene was a most lovely one. Behind the terrace the 
 high mountains rose dark against the sky ; nearer, the black 
 rocks had furry, velvety, and satin tints, for, under the dark 
 and dusky light of the disappearing twilight, the stones seemed 
 to have grown soft ; whilst, on the other side, the broad expanse 
 of the sea looked like a mass of some hard burnished metal. 
 
 The utter quietness, the perfect peace and rest which per- 
 vaded the whole scene, rendered the sense of life a pleasurable 
 feeling ; still, it is doubtful whether most of those holy men 
 — who had never known the real wear and tear of life — felt all 
 the bliss of that beatific rest. 
 
 " Now," said Kvekvic to Milenko, " you can come and see 
 your friend, who, I am sorry to say, seems to be sinking ; then 
 you must retire to rest ; you'll soon have to start with your 
 ship, and you should not unfit yourself for your task." 
 
 " No," pleaded Milenko ; " it is, perhaps, the last watch we 
 shall keep together; therefore, let me stay by his bedside. But, 
 tell me, is he really getting worse ? " 
 
 " The fever is increasing fast, notwithstanding the father's 
 medicines." 
 
 " Had we not better have a doctor from Budua or Cattaro ? " 
 
 " I don't think their skill could be of much use, for I really 
 think his hours are numbered here below — although he is 
 young, and might struggle back to life ; darkness, albeit, is 
 gathering fast around him." 
 
 Milenko, with a heavy heart, went back to the sufferer's cell, 
 where some other monks, also versed in the art of healing, had 
 gathered around him in a grave consultation. They all said to 
 Milenko that there was still hope ; but, one by one, they all left 
 the room, making the sign of the Cross, and recommending 
 him to God, as if human aid could do nothing more for him. 
 
 Poor Milenko felt as if all the nerves of his chest had con- 
 tracted painfully ; life did not seem possible without the friend, 
 the constant companion of his infancy. 
 
 As it was agreed that Danko Kvekvic should stay up with the
 
 POBRATIM 317 
 
 old monk, all the other caloyers went off to sleep ; but presently 
 one of the younger brothers came in, bearing a tray of fragrant 
 coffee, cooked in the Turkish fashion. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " said Kvekvic, rubbing his hands, " I think 
 you must have guessed my wishes, for, to tell you the truth, I 
 was actually pining for a draught of that exhilarating beverage, 
 one of the few good things we owe to the enemies of our creed, 
 for, in fact, I know of few beverages that can be compared to a 
 cup of fragrant coffee." 
 
 " As far as luxuries go, the Turks are certainly our masters ; 
 not only in confectionery, in sweet-scented sherbet, but even 
 in cooking we are rude barbarians compared to them." 
 
 " They certainly are hedonists, who know how to render life 
 pleasurable." 
 
 " Aye," said the monk, sternl)-, " theirs is the broad path 
 leading to perdition." Then, after a slight pause, he added : 
 " What is that book thou hast brought with thee, Blagoslav ? " 
 
 " I thought," replied the young man, somewhat bashfully, " I 
 might help you to pass your long vigil b}' reading to you ; that 
 is, of course, if it be agreeable to you." 
 
 The poor fellow stammered, and stopped, seeing the little 
 success his proposal seemed to elicit. 
 
 " Blagoslav," retorted the old man, gravely, " vanity caused the 
 archangel's downfall, and vanity is thy besetting sin. Blagos- 
 lav, thou knowest that thou readest well, for thou hast too 
 often been praised for it, and now thou seizest every oppor- 
 tunity to hear the sound of thine own voice, which, I freely 
 grant, is a pleasant one." 
 
 " Let us hear it, then," said Danko Kvekvic, kindly; "besides, 
 I firmly believe that brother Blagoslav's intentions were good 
 and " 
 
 " Danko Kvekvic," said the old man, gruffly, " you are not a 
 general favourite and an important man in Budua for nothing ; 
 you have the evil knack of flattering people's foibles." 
 
 " Come, come ! " said the priest, good-humouredly, " should 
 we pat a cat on the right side or on the wrong side ? " Then, 
 turning to Blagoslav, he added : " I, for myself, shall be 
 thankful to you for beguiling away the long hours by reading 
 something to us." 
 
 The young man, who had stood with his eyes cast down, and 
 as still as a statue, sat down on a stool by the table and opened 
 his book.
 
 31 8 POBRATIM 
 
 "What volume of ancient lore have you there?" asked the 
 priest, pleasantly. 
 
 " ' The Lives of the Saints,' written by a holy monk of our 
 order." Then, looking up at the old monk, "Which Life shall I 
 read ? " he asked. 
 
 " Begin with that of our patron saint, Prince George of Cap- 
 padocia. It is a holy legend, which we, of course, all know, for 
 the peasant often sings it at his plough, the shepherds say it to 
 one another whilst tending their sheep, and" — turning to Milos 
 — " I suppose you, too, have often recited it at the helm when 
 keeping your watch on the stormy sea." 
 
 " Yes, and invoked his holy name in the hour of danger." 
 Thereupon Milenko crossed himself, and the others followed 
 suit. 
 
 " It is one of our oldest legends ; still, always a very pleasant 
 one to hear, especially if it is well read. But, before you begin, 
 Blagoslav, let me first set the sufferer's pillow straight and 
 administer to his wants; then we shall listen to your reading 
 without disturbing you." 
 
 The old man suited his actions to his words — felt Uros' 
 pulse, gave him with a spoon some drops of cordial, and after- 
 wards sat down. 
 
 " Now v/e are ready," said he to the young monk. 
 
 Blagoslav thereupon began as follows : — 
 
 PISMA SVETOGA JURJE. 
 
 THE SONG OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 All hail, O Bosnia ! fairest of all lands, 
 
 Renowned throughout the world since many an age ; 
 
 The springtide of the year renews thy bloom, 
 
 And with the spring St. George's Day is nigh. 
 
 He was the greatest glory of the Cross, 
 
 Who taught our fathers Christ's most holy creed. 
 
 Now God again has granted us His gifts — 
 
 The life-awakening dews, the greenwood shade. 
 
 The sun's bright rays which warm the fruitful meads. 
 
 And melt the snow that lingers still a while 
 
 Upon the high and hoary mountain-tops ; 
 
 The flowers fair that grow amongst the grass. 
 
 The blood-red rose that sheds its fragrance far, 
 
 The tawny swallows, from the sunny South, 
 
 That twitter sweetly 'neath the thatched eaves, 
 
 Are all the gifts that God sends every year 
 
 To Bosnia. Still He grants a greater boon ;
 
 FOB R A TIM 319 
 
 This is the gladsome day of great St. George. 
 
 For though our land can boast of valiant knights, 
 
 Of warlike princes, eke of holy men, 
 
 Still greater far than all was voyvod George 
 
 Who whilom was of Cappadocia Duke. 
 
 He killed the grisly dragon that of yore 
 
 Laid waste the land around Syrene's white walls, 
 
 And freed the country from a fearful scourge. 
 
 Far down a lake full many fathoms deep. 
 
 There dwelt this dragon dreadful to behold ; 
 
 For from his round red eyes he shot forth flames. 
 
 And spouted from his snout a sooty smoke 
 
 That burnt and blasted all around the mere. 
 
 This dragon daily slew those daring knights, 
 
 Who, mounted all on prancing, warlike steeds 
 
 Had gone to try their strength against the beast ; 
 
 For on his ghastly green and scaly skin 
 
 They bent and broke, or blunted, their best blades. 
 
 As striking on the dragon's horrid hide 
 
 Was worse than hitting at a coat of mail, 
 
 Or cleaving some hard, flinty rock in twain ; 
 
 So, therefore, like an Eastern potentate, 
 
 He reigned and ruled the region round Syrene. 
 
 It was a terror-striking sight to see 
 
 The horrid beast rise out in snaky coils. 
 
 And rear his head with widely-gaping mouth. 
 
 As towards the town he hissed with such a din 
 
 That shook the strong and battlemented walls ; 
 
 Thereon to satisfy his hungry maw. 
 
 The craven townsfolk, all appalled with fear, 
 
 Would — as a dainty morsel — send the beast 
 
 Some lovely maiden in the prime of youth. 
 
 If naught was offered to the famished beast, 
 
 He lifted up his huge and bat-like wings. 
 
 And flapping, leapt upon the town's white walls ; 
 
 There, gripping 'twixt his sharp and cruel claws. 
 
 Whoever stood thereby within his reach. 
 
 He mauled and maimed, and gulped down men by scores, 
 
 Until the ground seemed all around to be 
 
 A marsh of mangled flesh and muddy gore, 
 
 With skulls half split and jagged, splintered bones. 
 
 When each and every man within the town 
 
 Had offered up his child unto the fiend, 
 
 And every mother wept from early morn, 
 
 And saw at night her child in dreadful dreams, 
 
 They told the King his turn had come at last 
 
 To offer up his daughter to the beast — 
 
 His cherished child, the apple of his eye. 
 
 The only heir of all his wide domains.
 
 320 POBRA TIM 
 
 Oh ! brother mine, hadst thou but seen just then 
 
 The hot and bhnding tears rush from his eyes, 
 
 Whilst cruel grief convulsed his manly frame ; 
 
 At such a woful sight you would have thought 
 
 It was some abject woman, not a King, 
 
 Who, crouching low, was sobbing on the ground. 
 
 He kissed his child and said : " My daughter dear, 
 
 Woe worth the day that thou art reft from me ! 
 
 For now, alas ! who is to wear my crown, 
 
 Who is to grace my throne when thou art gone ? " 
 
 When last he ceased to weep, he bade the maids 
 
 To deck his daughter out in richest dress, 
 
 With costly Orient pearls and priceless gems, 
 
 E'en as she were to wed the mighty Czar ; 
 
 And then he said : " My daughter as thy suite, 
 
 Take thou with thee my dukes, my noblest peers. 
 
 And likewise all the ladies of the land. 
 
 In sable garments clad to grace thy steps. 
 
 Still, let us hope some help may come at last. 
 
 And, meanwhile, pray the great god Alkoron. 
 
 In dire distress all earthly help is vain; 
 
 Alone, thy god may come to thy behest 
 
 And free thee from the dreadful dragons's claws." 
 
 The mother hugged her daughter to her heart, 
 
 The forlorn father blessed his weeping child, 
 
 Who then departed to her dismal doom ; 
 
 And as she crossed the squares, the crowded streets 
 
 The flutes and timbrels played a wailing dirge. 
 
 That might have melted e'en a heart of stone. 
 
 Behind her walked the lords of high degree, 
 
 Then all the noble ladies of the land, 
 
 All clad in widow's weeds and trailing veils. 
 
 It was, indeed, a grand and glorious sight 
 
 To witness all this pageantry of woe, 
 
 The stately show of grief, the pomp of tears. 
 
 The sun that shone upon the Princess's robes, 
 
 Now glittered brightly on the gold brocade; 
 
 Her eight rings sparkled all with costly gems. 
 
 For each alone was worth at least eight towns ; 
 
 Her shining girdle, wrought of purest gold, 
 
 Was studded o'er with coral and turquoise; 
 
 Around her throat she wore a row of pearls. 
 
 Iridescent, all brought from far-off seas. 
 
 Upon her brow she bore the regal gem, 
 
 Which glittered in the sun with such a sheen 
 
 That every eye was dazzled by its light. 
 
 The maid, moreover, was of beauty rare, 
 
 Of tall and slender form, yet stately mien, 
 
 And graceful as the topmost bough that bends,
 
 POBRATIM 321 
 
 Or branchlet bowing 'neath the summer breeze ; 
 
 Within her hand she held some lilies white, 
 
 The symbols of a young and modest maid. 
 
 She crossed with tearful eyes the crowded streets; 
 
 With grace she greeted every child she met, 
 
 And all — whose hearts were not as cold as clay — 
 
 Shed bitter tears at such a sight of woe. 
 
 And sighing, said : " Alas, her mother dear ! " 
 
 At last when she had almost reached the lake. 
 
 The mighty dukes, her father's noble peers. 
 
 As well as every lady of her suite 
 
 Appalled with fear, now bade her all farewell. 
 
 And hastened back to town before the beast 
 
 Arose from out the mere to seize his prey. 
 
 Now, God Almighty chose to show His love 
 
 Not only to the crowd that stood aghast, 
 
 But unto all the region round Syrene. 
 
 He, therefore, sent His servant, saintly George, 
 
 To turn them from their evil ways to Christ. 
 
 The Knight came to the mere just when the maid 
 
 Remained alone to weep upon her fate, 
 
 Forsaken as she seemed by God and man. 
 
 The Knight, who saw her from afar, sped on 
 
 With all due haste ; then leaping from his steed. 
 
 He strode up by her side and asked her why 
 
 She stood there by the lake appalled, aghast. 
 
 For all reply the Princess only sobbed. 
 
 And with her hand she bade him quickly go. 
 
 " Can I afford no help ? " then asked the Knight. 
 
 " Flee fast away, spur on your sprightly steed ; 
 
 With all due haste, take shelter in the town ; 
 
 Uprising from the waters of the lake. 
 
 The hungry dragon now doth take his meal ; 
 
 So hie thee hence. Just see, the waters move ; 
 
 Thou hast no time to tarry here to speak." 
 
 But George, undaunted by her words, replied : 
 
 " Fair maiden, dry your eyes and trust in me, 
 
 Or rather trust in God, who sent me here." 
 
 " What shall I do, fair Knight ? " the maid replied. 
 
 " Forswear," he answered, " all thy gods of clay. 
 
 And bow with meekness to the name of Christ, 
 
 Whose Cross we bear to reach a better life ; 
 
 For, with His mighty help, I hope to slay 
 
 The hellish beast that haunts this lonely land ; 
 
 So, therefore, stand aside and let me fight." 
 
 Now, when the girl had heard these words of hope. 
 
 She hastened to reply unto the saint 
 
 " If God doth grant thee superhuman might. 
 
 That wonders as the like thou canst achieve; 
 
 21
 
 322 POBRATIM 
 
 If thou hast strength enough to slay the fiend 
 
 And free me from this awful fate of mine, 
 
 I shall forsake my god, false Alkoron, 
 
 And bow with thee unto thine own true God, 
 
 Extolling Him as mightier of the two. 
 
 If thou wilt also show me how the sign 
 
 Of that most mystic Cross is made. Sir Knight, 
 
 I shall then cross myself both morn and eve. 
 
 Moreover, thou shalt have most costly gifts, 
 
 As well as all the gems I bear on me." 
 
 She had but hardly uttered these few words 
 
 When, lo ! the waters blue began to heave. 
 
 And bubble up with foam, and then the beast 
 
 Upreared on high his dark and scaly head, 
 
 That looked just like some sharp and jagged cliff, 
 
 'Gainst which small shipwrecked smacks are dashed at night. 
 
 Then, rising from the lake, the horrid beast 
 
 Began to spout the water like a whale. 
 
 And bellow with a loud, appalling noise, 
 
 Just like the crocodiles that lurk unseen 
 
 Amongst the sedges growing by the Nile ; 
 
 The roaring ended in a hollow moan. 
 
 As when the hot simoon begins to blow 
 
 In fitful blasts across the Libyan plain. 
 
 The Princess stood thereby and shook with fear; 
 
 She almost fainted at that dreadful sight. 
 
 St. George's warlike steed began to rear. 
 
 And prance and tremble ; then it tried to flee; 
 
 But curbing it with might, and wheeling round, 
 
 The Knight with clashing strokes attacked the beast. 
 
 His sabre, striking on that scaly skin. 
 
 Struck forth a shower of sparks that glittered bright 
 
 Like ocean spray tossed by the wind at night. 
 
 Or glowing iron 'neath the smithy's sledge, 
 
 Or when the kindling steel is struck 'gainst flint. 
 
 The monster lifted then its leathern wings 
 
 And, bat-like, tried to fly. It only looked 
 
 Like some old hen alighting from its perch ; 
 
 With flutt'ring wings outspread it floundered down, 
 
 And was about to fall upon the Knight 
 
 And crush him 'neath its huge and massy weight ; 
 
 Or grasp him with its sharp and cruel claws. 
 
 Just as an eagle pounces on a lamb. 
 
 But George, invoking Mary to his help. 
 
 Bent down and wheeled aside; then with one stroke 
 
 He plunged his sword within the dragon's side. 
 
 Just near the heart, beneath the massy wings. 
 
 A flood of dark red blood at once gushed out, 
 
 Which forthwith tinged the water with this gore.
 
 POBRA TIM 323 
 
 The monster yelled aloud with such a din 
 
 That shook the white and battlemented walls 
 
 Then, writhing like a trodden newt or worm 
 
 It wallowed in the dust and seemed to die. 
 
 But still, before the dragon passed away, 
 
 The Knight undid his long and silken scarf. 
 
 And bound it round the monster's scaly neck ; 
 
 He handed then the scarf unto the maid, 
 
 Who now drove on the dragon like a lamb. 
 
 They both went through the gate within the town, 
 
 Between the gaping crowd that stood aside 
 
 To let them pass, amazed at such a sight ; 
 
 And thus they crossed the streets and crowded squares, 
 
 Until they reached the lofty palace gate. 
 
 There 'neath the pillared portal stood the King, 
 
 Who stared astounded at the sight he saw. 
 
 The saintly Knight alighted from his steed, 
 
 And bowing low, he said in accents clear : 
 
 " Believe in God the Father, mighty King, 
 
 Believe in God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost ; 
 
 Forsake for aye thy lying gods of clay. 
 
 And Sire, let all Syrene with bended knee, 
 
 Confess the Lord and make the mystic sign 
 
 Of Jesus Christ, who died upon the Cross. 
 
 If thou provoke the anger of the Lord, 
 
 Far greater scourges might then hap to thee." 
 
 The King, who saw his own dear child alive, 
 
 Shed tears of joy and clasped her to his heart. 
 
 And gladly then — and without more ado — 
 
 There in the midst of all the gathered crowd, 
 
 With all his Court, he made the mystic sign 
 
 That scares the foe of man in darkest hell ; 
 
 Then bowing down confessed the name of Christ. 
 
 Thereon the saint unsheathed the mighty sword. 
 
 And with a blow struck off the scaly head. 
 
 The dragon, that till then had scourged the town. 
 
 Lay wriggling low amidst the throes of death. 
 
 And wallowed in a pool of dark red blood, 
 
 Emitting a most foul and loathsome smell. 
 
 Still, at the ghastly sight all stared well pleased, 
 
 Nay, some threw stones and hit the dying beast. 
 
 For 'gainst a fallen foe ; the vile are brave. 
 
 And during all this time the kind old King 
 
 Had tried to show the gratitude he felt ; 
 
 He led the saint within his palace halls. 
 
 For there he hoped to grant him many a boon. 
 
 " Thou art, indeed," said he, "most brave and true, 
 
 Endowed by God with superhuman might. 
 
 And as a token of my heartfelt thanks 
 
 21 — 2
 
 324 POBRATIM 
 
 • 
 
 Accept this chain of gold, for 'tis the meed 
 
 Of daring deeds, the like of which thou didst. 
 
 This diamond ring till now adorned my hand ; 
 
 I give it thee. Besides, my gallant Knight, 
 
 One half of all my land will now be thine ; 
 
 Nor even then can I requite thy worth, 
 
 Except by granting thee my only child, 
 
 My darling daughter, as thy loving bride." 
 
 The saint, however, thanked for all these gifts, 
 
 And bowing low, he said unto the King : 
 
 " Thy gratitude to God alone is due. 
 
 For I am but a tool within His hand ; 
 
 'Tis He who sent me here to kill the beast. 
 
 That hell had sent to waste and scourge your land. 
 
 Without His help, a man is but a reed, 
 
 A blade of grass that bends beneath the breeze, 
 
 A midge that ne'er outlives a single night ; 
 
 To thy distress He lent a listening ear. 
 
 And freed thee from that foul and fiendish beast. 
 
 Then dash thy foolish gods of stone and brass, 
 
 Build shrines and temples, praise His holy name. 
 
 Still, for thy gifts accept my heartfelt thanks ; 
 
 My task, howe'er, is that to go and preach 
 
 The name of Jesus Christ from town to town. 
 
 To Persia straightway I must wend my way 
 
 And there declare the love of God to man." 
 
 Thereon he took his leave and went away 
 
 To preach in distant lands a better life ; 
 
 Converting men of high and low degree. 
 
 To Alexandra, who then reigned in Rome, 
 
 He bore the tidings of Christ's holy name ; 
 
 And God e'er granted to this voyvod saint 
 
 The might of working strange and wond'rous deeds. 
 
 At last he met a saintly martyr's death. 
 
 And shed his precious blood for Jesus Christ. 
 
 To Thee, St. George, we now devoutly pray. 
 
 To be our intercessor with the Lord, 
 
 That He vouchsafe His mercy to us all.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE " KARVA TAJSTVO " 
 
 The sun had already set as Mara and her friend left the 
 convent gates and slowly wended their way homewards. The 
 mother's heart was heavily laden with grief, for although the 
 holy men had done their best to comfort and encourage her, 
 still doubt oppressed her, and she kept asking herself whether 
 she would still find her son alive on the morrow. Now the 
 darkness which slowly spread itself over the open country, 
 and rendered the surrounding rocks of a gloomier hue, the 
 broad, blue sea of a dull, leaden tint, only made her sadness 
 more intense. 
 
 Dusk softens the human heart ; it opens it to those tender 
 emotions unfelt during the struggle of the day, whilst the raging 
 sun pouring from above enkindles the fierce passions lurking in 
 the heart. That dimness which spreads itself over the world 
 at nightfall, wrapping it up as in a vaporous shroud, has a 
 mystic power over our nature. That clear obscure mistiness 
 seems to open to the mind's eye the distant depths of border- 
 land ; we almost fancy we can see dim, shadowy figures float 
 past before us. The most sceptic man becomes religious, 
 superstitious and spiritual at gloaming. 
 
 The two women hardly spoke on their way ; both of them 
 prayed for the sufferer lying in the convent ; but whilst they 
 prayed their minds often wandered from Uros to Milena, who 
 had been left at home ailing. When they arrived at the gates 
 of the town night had already set in. Mara hastened home 
 with her friend, but Milena was not there ; they both went to 
 Radonic's house to look for her. They were afraid lest, in 
 her state of health, she might have heard of her husband's 
 death. 
 
 A dreary night awaited the women there. After the child 
 had left her, Milena, who had fallen into a swoon, had been 
 delivered of a son ; but the infant, uncared for, and finding the
 
 326 POBRA TIM 
 
 world bleak and desolate, had fled away, without even waiting 
 for the holy water and the salt to speed 'it forth to more blessed 
 regions. 
 
 Milena had only been roused to life by the throes of child- 
 birth, and no sooner had her deliverance taken place than she 
 again fainted away. 
 
 Mara's neighbour having, in the meanwhile, been informed 
 by her little boy of Milena's illness, hastened at once to her 
 help. Moreover, on her way thither, she called the babica (or 
 midwife), but when she reached Radonic's house, she found 
 the new-born infant a cold corpse and the mother apparently 
 dead. The two women did their utmost to recall Milena to 
 life, but all their skill was of no avail. At last, at their wits' 
 end, a passer-by was hailed and begged to go for the doctor at 
 once. 
 
 When Mara came, all hopes of rousing Milena to life had 
 been despaired of, but what the skill of the scientific practitioner 
 and of the wise old woman could not bring about, was effected 
 simply by Mara's presence. After Uros' mother had stood 
 some time by her side, stroking her hair, pressing her hand on 
 the sufferer's clammy forehead, and whispering endearing 
 words in her ear, Milena opened her eyes. Seeing Mara stand- 
 ing beside her, the sight of that woman whom she loved, and 
 whose son she doated on, slowly roused her to life. Conscious- 
 ness, little by little, crept back within her. When she heard 
 from the mother's lips that Uros was not dead, nay, that there 
 was hope of his recovery, she whispered : 
 
 " If I could only see him once more, then I should be but too 
 happy to die." 
 
 After this slight exertion she once more fainted, but she was 
 soon afterwards brought back again to life, and Mara then was 
 able to make her take the cordial the doctor had prepared for 
 her. 
 
 A few hours later, when the physician took his leave for the 
 night, prescribing to the women what they were to do, he and 
 the midwife warmly congratulated each other, not doubting 
 that their skill had snatched the young woman out of the jaws 
 of death. 
 
 After a night of pain and restlessness, Milena, early on the 
 next morning, exhausted as she was, fell into a quiet, death-like 
 sleep. Mara then left her to return to the Convent of St. 
 George to see if Uros were still alive and how he was getting
 
 POBRATIM 327 
 
 on. Milenko's mother went with her. They had not been 
 away long when Milena, shuddering, uttered a loud cry of 
 terror, sat up in her bed and looked straight in front of her. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " said the midwife, running up to the 
 bedside. 
 
 " Don't you see him standing there ? " cried the awe-stricken 
 woman. 
 
 " There is nobody, my dear ; nobody at all." 
 
 " Yes ! Radonic, my husband, all covered with wounds ! He 
 is dying — he is dead ! " and Milena, appalled, stared wildly at 
 the foot of the bed. 
 
 " It is your imagination ; your husband is with your father at 
 Cettinje." 
 
 " No, no ; I tell you he's there ; help him, or he'll bleed to 
 death I " and the poor W9man, exhausted, fell back on her bed 
 unconscious. 
 
 The midwife shuddered, for, although she saw nobody, she 
 was quite sure that the apparition seen by Milena was no fancy 
 of an overheated brain, but Radonic's ghost, that had come to 
 visit his wife, for the news of the heyduk's death had been 
 carefully withheld from Milena. 
 
 The midwife went to the fount of holy water, took the blessed 
 sprig of olive which wa^ over it, dipped it into the fount and 
 sprinkled the bed and the place where the ghost had stood, 
 uttering all the while the appropriate prayer for the purpose. 
 Then she sprinkled Milena, and made the sign of the Cross 
 over her. After that she gave her some drops of cordial, and 
 little by little brought her back to her senses, vowing all the 
 while not to remain alone again in that haunted house. 
 
 When Milena recovered, " My husband is dead, is he not ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " But — no," said the midwife, hesitatingly. 
 
 " You know he is. Did you not see him standing there ? He 
 had one wound on the head and several in the breast." 
 
 The elderly woman did not answer. 
 
 " When did he die ? " quoth Milena. 
 
 " Some days ago ; but " 
 
 " He was killed by the Turks, was he not ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why did no one tell me ? " 
 
 " Because they were afraid to upset you." 
 
 " He is dead," said Milena to herself, staring at the spot
 
 328 POBRATIM 
 
 where she had seen her husband, " dead ! " Then she heaved 
 a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 The midwife tried to comfort her, but she did not seem to 
 heed her words. 
 
 " My babe is dead, all are dead ! " 
 
 Presently the doctor came in to see how she was getting on. 
 
 " Is Uros dead ? " was Milena's first question, 
 
 " No, he is still alive ; a message came from the convent this 
 morning." 
 
 " But is there any hope of recovery ? " 
 
 " If he has lasted on till to-day he may yet pull through ; he 
 is young and healthy." 
 
 " Can I get up to-day ? " asked Milena, wistfully. 
 
 " Get up ? " asked the doctor, astonished. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you hear her ? " said the physician, turning towards 
 the midwife. " She asks if she can get up. Yes, you can get 
 up if you wish to kill yourself." 
 
 A look of determination settled in the young woman's eyes ; 
 but neither the doctor nor the midwife noticed it. 
 
 " Anyhow, it is a good sign when the patient asks if he can 
 get up, except in consumption," added the physician, taking 
 his leave, " If you keep very quiet, and lie perfectly still, 
 without tossing about and fretting, you'll be able to get up 
 in a few days," 
 
 Milena pressed her lips, but did not say anything in reply; 
 only, after a little time : 
 
 " Do I look very ill ? " 
 
 " No, not so very ill, either." 
 
 '' Give me that looking-glass," she added. 
 
 The midwife hesitated. 
 
 "Is that the way you are going to lie still and get well ; you 
 must know that yesterday you were very ill." 
 
 " I know ; but please hand me the looking-glass." 
 
 The midwife did as she was bid. Milena took up the glass 
 and looked at herself scrutinisingly, just like an actor who has 
 made up his face. 
 
 " I am very much altered, am I not ?. " 
 
 " Oh, but it'll be all over in one or two days ! Wait till to- 
 morrow, and " 
 
 " But to-day I think people would hardly recognise me ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is not quite as bad as that ! besides "
 
 POBRATIM 329 
 
 Milena opened her eyes questioningly, and looked at the 
 midwife. 
 
 " I care very little whether I am good-looking or not ; whom 
 have I to live for now ? " 
 
 " Come, you must not give up in that way. You are but a 
 child, and have seen but little happiness up to now ; you are 
 rich, free, handsome ; you'll soon find a husband, only don't 
 talk, take a cup of this good broth, and try to go to sleep." 
 
 " Very well, but I know you are busy, so go home and send 
 me your daughter ; she can attend upon me ; besides, gospa 
 Markovic will soon be here." 
 
 The midwife hesitated. 
 
 " Go," said Milena ; " I'll feel quieter if you go." 
 
 " But you must promise me to keep very quiet, and not to 
 attempt, on any account, to get up." 
 
 " Certainly," said Milena; "the doctor said I was not to rise; 
 why should I disobey him ? Besides, where have I to go ? " 
 
 The midwife, after having tucked her patient carefully in bed 
 and made her as cosy as she could, went off, saying that her 
 daughter would soon come to her. 
 
 Milena, with anxious eyes and a beating heart, watched the 
 midwife, and, at last, saw her go away and close the door after 
 her. She waited for some time to see that she did not return ; 
 then she gathered up all her strength, and tried to rise. 
 
 It was, however, a far more difficult task than she had ex- 
 pected, for she fancied that she had fallen from the top of a 
 high mountain into a chasm beneath, and that every bone in 
 her body had been broken to splinters. If she had been crushed 
 under horses' hoofs, she could not have felt a greater soreness 
 all over her body. Still, rise she would, and she managed to 
 crawl slowly out of her bed. 
 
 Her legs, at first, could hardly hold her up ; the nerves and 
 muscles had lost all their strength, she fancied the bones 
 had got limp ; her back, especially, seemed to be gnawed by 
 hungry dogs. 
 
 Having managed to get over her first fit of faintness, she, 
 holding on to the bed and against the wall, succeeded in drag- 
 ging herself towards the table and dropped into a chair. 
 
 She sat there for a while, making every effort to overcome 
 her faintness, but she felt so sick, so giddy, and in such pain, 
 that her head sank down on the table of its own weight, and 
 she burst out crying from sheer exhaustion.
 
 330 POBRA TIM 
 
 When she had somewhat recovered, she slowly undid her long 
 tresses, and her luxuriant hair fell in waves down to the ground. 
 She shoolv her head slightly, as if to disentangle the wavy mass, 
 plunged her fingers through the locks to separate them, and felt 
 them lovingly, uttering a deep sigh of regret as she did so ; then 
 after a moment's pause, she shrugged her shoulders, took up 
 a pair of scissors, and, without more ado, she clipped the long 
 tresses as close to her head as she possibly could, carefully 
 placing each one on the table as she cut it off. Then she felt her 
 head, which seemed so small, so cold, and so naked ; she took 
 up a mirror with a trembling hand and quivering lips pulled 
 down at each corner. After she had seen her own reflection 
 in the glass, she burst into tears. She had hardly put down 
 the mirror, when Frana, the midwife's daughter, came in . 
 
 The young girl, seeing Milena, whom she had expected to 
 find in bed, sitting on the chair with all her hair clipped oft', 
 remained rooted to the spot where she was standing. 
 
 " Milena, dear, is it you ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Milena, mournfully. 
 
 " But why did you get up ? and why have you cut off your 
 beautiful hair ? " asked the midwife's daughter, scared. 
 
 " My hair burdened my head ; I could not bear the weight 
 any more ; besides " 
 
 The young girl looked at Milena, wondering whether she were 
 in her right senses, or if the grief of having lost her husband 
 and her child had not driven her to distraction. 
 
 " Besides what, Milena ? " 
 
 " Well, I am not for long in this world, you know ! " 
 
 " Do not say such foolish things ; and let me help you back 
 to bed." 
 
 Milena shook her head, and fixing her large and luminous 
 deep blue eyes on the young girl, she said, wistfully : 
 
 " Listen, Frana. Uros is dying, perhaps he is dead ! I must 
 see him once more. I must go to him, even if I have to die on 
 the way thither ! " 
 
 " What ! go to the Convent of St. George ? " 
 
 Milena nodded assent. 
 
 " But what are you thinking about ? How can you, in your 
 state, think of going there ? " 
 
 " I must, even if I should have to crawl on all-fours ! " 
 
 " But if you got there, if I carried you there, they would 
 never let you go in ; you know women "
 
 POBRATIM 331 
 
 " Yes, they will ; that's why I've cut off my hair." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " I'll dress up as a boy ; you'll come with me ; you'll say I'm 
 your brother, and Uros' friend. You'll do that for me, Frana? " 
 
 And Milena lifted up her pleading eyes, which now seemed 
 larger than ever and lighted up with an inward ethereal fire. 
 
 The young girl seemed to be hypnotised by those entreating 
 eyes. 
 
 " But where will you find the clothes you want ? " 
 
 " If you can't get me your brother's, then borrow or buy a 
 suit for me ; but go at once. You must get me a cap, and all 
 that is required, but go at once." 
 
 " Very well ; only, in the meantime, go to bed, take some 
 broth, and wait till I return." 
 
 " But you promise to come back as quickly as you can ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you are determined to put your life in danger, and " 
 
 " And what ? " 
 
 " If you don't care what people say." 
 
 " Frana, if ever you love a man as I love Uros, you will see 
 that you will care very little for your own life, and still less for 
 what people might say about you." 
 
 Frana helped Milena to go to bed again. She made her take 
 a cup of broth, with the yolk of an egg beaten into it ; placed, 
 on a chair by her bed, a bowl of mulled wine, which she was to 
 take so as to get up her strength ; put away the long locks of 
 hair lying on the table, and at last she went off. 
 
 Presently, Milenko's mother came to see Milena, and stayed 
 with her till Frana returned, and then she was persuaded to go 
 back home. When she had gone, Frana undid the bundle she 
 had brought, took out a jacket, a pair of wide breeches and 
 leggings, the opanke ; lastly, the small black cap with its gold- 
 embroidered crimson crown. 
 
 Frana helped Milena to dress, and, in her weak state, the 
 operation almost exhausted her. The broad sash, tightly wound 
 round her waist, served to keep her up, and, leaning on Frana's 
 arm, she left the house. 
 
 " I have managed to find a cart for you, so we need not cross 
 the town, but go round the walls, in order that you may not 
 be seen ; besides, the cart will take us to the foot of the moun- 
 tain, not far from the convent." 
 
 "How shall I ever be able to thank you enough for what you 
 have done for me, Frana ? "
 
 332 POBRA TIM 
 
 " By getting over your illness as quickly as possible, for it 
 any harm should come of it my mother '11 never forgive me, 
 and I don't blame her." 
 
 The sun was in the meridian when the cart arrived at the 
 foot of the mountain and the two friends alighted. As they 
 climbed the rough and uneven path leading up to the convent, 
 Milena, though leaning on Frana's strong arm, had more than 
 once to stop and rest, for at every step she made the pain in 
 every joint, in every muscle, was most acute. It seemed as if 
 all the ligaments that bind the bones of the skeleton together 
 had snapped asunder, and that her body was about to fall to 
 pieces. Then she felt a smarting, a fire that was burning 
 within her bowels, and which increased at every effort she 
 made ; in fact, had it not been for the young girl, she would 
 either have sunk by the roadside or crawled up — as she had 
 said herself — on all-fours. 
 
 Her head also was aching dreadfully, her temples were throb- 
 bing, and she was parched with fever. Her limbs sank every 
 now and then beneath her weight ; still, her love and her 
 courage kept her up, and she trudged along without uttering a 
 word of complaint. At last they reached the convent. Then 
 her strength gave way. Anxiety, pain and shame overpowered 
 her, and she fell fainting on the threshold. Frana summoned 
 help ; but, before the monks came, Milena had recovered, and 
 was sitting down on a bench to rest. 
 
 In the meanwhile Uros was lingering on — a kind of death 
 in life; the vital flame was flickering, but not entirely extin- 
 guished ; the ties that fastened the soul to life were still strong. 
 Towards midnight he had sat up in his bed, and — as the 
 monks thought — the Virgin and Christ had appeared to him, 
 then he had, for some time, not given any further signs of 
 consciousness. Nay, the monks were so sure the sufferer was 
 passing away, that they, in fact, began reciting the prayers for 
 the dying. They did so with much fervour, regarding Uros 
 almost as a saint, for never had mortal man been so highly 
 favoured by the Deity. Little by little, however, life, instead 
 of ebbing away, seemed to return ; but the sufferer's mind was 
 quite lost. 
 
 In the morning, first his father had come, together with his 
 friend Janko, and a little while afterwards Mara came. 
 
 The monks related to the wondering parents how the Virgin 
 had appeared, bringing with her the infant Christ for him to
 
 POBRATIM 333 
 
 kiss. Milenko, however, kept his peace, feeling sure that if he 
 expressed an opinion as to the weird apparition, his words 
 would be regarded as blasphemy.' 
 
 Coming to himself, Uros recognised his parents, and as 
 Mara bent upon him to kiss his brows : 
 
 " Milena," whispered Uros, almost inaudibly. 
 
 " Milenko," said the mother, " he wants you." 
 
 " No," said Milenko, softly to Mara, " it is not me he wants ; 
 he has been calling for Milena since he has been coming back 
 to life. I am sure that her presence would quiet him, and, who 
 knows ? perhaps add to his recovery." 
 
 The poor mother said nothing ; she only patted her boy's 
 brown hand, which seemed to have got whiter and thinner in 
 this short space of time. 
 
 " I think it is so hard to refuse him a thing upon which he 
 has set his heart," said Milenko, pleadingly. 
 
 Mara still gave no answer. 
 
 " Perhaps I am wrong in mentioning it — but you do not know 
 how dearly he loved this cousin of his." 
 
 Mara's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Could these priests not be persuaded to let her come in just 
 for a moment ? " 
 
 " Milena is too ill to come here ; in fact " 
 
 " Is she dead ? " asked the young man. 
 
 " No, not dead, but as ill as Uros himself is." 
 
 " What is the matter with her ? " asked Milenko. 
 
 Mara whispered something in the young man's ear. 
 
 Danilo Kvekvic had left the sufferer to attend to his own 
 duties. All the monks of the convent had, one by one, come 
 to recite an orison by the bedside, as at some miraculous 
 shrine ; then Uros was left to the care of his parents ; even 
 the old monk, after administering to the young man's wants, 
 had gone to take some rest. 
 
 For some time the room was perfectly quiet ; Mara and 
 Milenko were whispering together in subdued tones ; the 
 pobratim's fathers stood outside. 
 
 After a little while Uros began to be delirious, and to speak 
 about Radonic and Vranic, who were going to kill Milena. 
 
 " There, you see, she is dying ; let me go to her. Why do 
 you hold me here ? Unhand me ; you see she is alone — no one 
 to attend upon her." (The remainder of his words were un- 
 intelligible.)
 
 334 POBRA TIM 
 
 The tears rolled down Mara's cheeks, for she thought that 
 her son's words were but too true ; at that moment Milena was 
 probably dying. 
 
 •' She came to me for help, and I " 
 
 " Milenko," added the delirious man, "get the ship ready; 
 let us take her away." 
 
 " Yes," said Milenko ; " we have only to heave the anchor 
 and be off." 
 
 Uros thereupon made an effort to get up, but the pain caused 
 by his wound was so great that he fell fainting on his bed with 
 a deep moan. 
 
 The two men standing at the door came to the sufferer's bed- 
 side. Mara herself bent over him to assist him. Just then 
 Milenko was called out — someone was asking for him. 
 
 The fever-fit had subsided. The sufferer, falling back on his 
 pillow, exhausted, seemed to be slowly breathing his last. 
 
 The tears were falling fast from Mara's eyes. The two men 
 by the bed were twisting their bristling moustaches, looking 
 helplessly forlorn. Just then Milenko appeared on the 
 threshold, followed by a wan and corpse-like boy. Bellacic 
 frowned at the intruder. Mara, at the sight, started back, 
 opening her eyes widely. 
 
 " You ? " said she. 
 
 Milena's head drooped down. Milenko put his arm round 
 her waist to keep her up. 
 
 "You here, my child ? " added Mara, opening her arms and 
 clasping the young woman within them. 
 
 Milena began to sob in a low voice. 
 
 " The blessed Virgin must have given you supernatural 
 strength, my poor child ; still, you have been killing your- 
 self." 
 
 Milena did not utter a word. She pressed Mara's hand con- 
 vulsively ; her face twitched nervously as she looked upon her 
 lover lying lifelessly on his bed ; then (Mara having made way 
 for her) the exhausted woman sank down upon her chair. 
 
 "I told you," said the old monk, coming in, "that in your 
 weak, exhausted state it was not right for you to see your 
 friend, but nowadays," added he, in a grumbling tone, 
 " young people are so headstrong that they will never do what 
 is required of them for their own good. Now that you have 
 seen him, I hope that you are satisfied and will come out." 
 
 "Just let me stay a little longer, till he comes to himself
 
 POBRATIM 335 
 
 again, only a very few minutes," said Milena, imploringly, and 
 clasping her hands in supplication. 
 
 " Please let him stay ; Uros '11 be so glad to see him when he 
 opens his eyes. He'll keep very quiet till then." 
 
 " Be it so," said the monk ; " only the room is getting too 
 crowded. The best cure for a sick man is sympathy and fresh 
 air." 
 
 " You are right," said Milenko, " but I give up my place to 
 him ; besides, I have some business in town." 
 
 As Bellacic accompanied the pobratim out — 
 
 " Where are you going ? " said he. 
 
 " To find out Vranic, and settle accounts with him." 
 
 " No, no ! Wait ! " said the father, 
 
 " Wait ! for what ? " 
 
 " Let us not think of vengeance as long as Uros lives." 
 
 Milenko did not seem persuaded ; Bellacic insisted : 
 
 " Don't let us provoke the wrath of the Almighty by more 
 bloodshed." 
 
 As they were thus discussing the matter, the doctor from 
 Budua arrived, having been sent by Danilo Kvekvic at the 
 request of the monks. 
 
 The old practitioner, the same one who had attended Milena, 
 looked at Uros, shook his head gravely, as if he would say : 
 " There is no hope whatever ; " then he touched the sufferer's 
 pulse and examined his wound. He approved of the treatment 
 he had received, and then, after a few moments' brown study, 
 and after taking a huge pinch of snuff, as if to clear his head, 
 he said, slowly, that all human effort was vain ; the young man 
 could not last more than a few hours — till eventide, or, at the 
 longest, during the night. 
 
 " Umph ! " grunted the old man, shrugging his shoulders ; 
 " he is in the hands of God." 
 
 " Of course, of course. We are all in the hands of God." 
 
 " I thought," added the caloyer, " he would not pass yester- 
 day night, especially after the Most Blessed appeared to him, 
 holding her Infant in her arms." 
 
 " What ! " said the doctor ; " you mean to say that the Virgin 
 appeared to him ? " 
 
 " Of course, and I was not the only one who saw her, for, 
 besides, Blagoslav, Danko Kvekvic, and this young man — point- 
 ing to Milenko — were also in the room." 
 
 " Then God may perform another miracle in his favour,"
 
 336 POBRA TIM 
 
 said the doctor, incredulously, "for he is beyond all earthly 
 skill." 
 
 Uros, in fact, was sinking fast, and, although the old man 
 clung to hope, still the doctor's words seemed but too true. 
 After some time the sufferer seemed to give signs of conscious- 
 ness, and when Milena placed her thin white hand on his fore- 
 head, he felt the slight pressure of her fingers, and, with his 
 eyes closed, said : 
 
 " Milena, are you here ? " and a faint smile played over his 
 lips. 
 
 " Yes, my love," whispered Milena, " I am here." 
 
 Uros opened his eyes, looked at her, and seemed bewildered 
 at the change which had come over her ; still, he said nothing 
 for a while, but was evidently lost in thought, after which he 
 added : 
 
 " Milena, have you been here all night ? " 
 
 " No, I only came here just now." 
 
 " You look ill — very ill ; I thought you were dying." 
 
 Milena kissed his hand, bathing it with tears. Uros once 
 more sank down on his bed exhausted ; still, after a few 
 moments' rest, he again opened his eyes and looked round for 
 his father. Bellacic understood the mute appeal, and bent 
 down over him. 
 
 "Father," said he, " I don't think I am in this world for a 
 long time. I feel that all my strength is gone ; but before ■" 
 
 The father bent low over his son. 
 
 " Before what ? " he asked. 
 
 " Before dying " 
 
 " Well, my son ? " 
 
 " Will you promise, father ? " 
 
 " Yes, I promise ; but what is it you want, my darling ? " 
 
 " To be married to Milena," he said, with an effort. 
 
 The tears trickled down the elderly man's sunburnt cheeks. 
 
 " I promise to do my utmost," said he. 
 
 He at once turned round and explained the whole affair to 
 his wife. Milena, who seemed to have guessed Uros' request, 
 had hid her face in her hands and was sobbing. Thereupon 
 Bellacic left the room and went to find the old monk, who had 
 gone out with the doctor. Taking him aside, he explained 
 the matter to him. 
 
 " What ! " said the old monk, " bring another woman into 
 the convent, and a young woman besides ? "
 
 POBRATIM 337 
 
 " Oh, there is no need to bring her in ! " 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " She is already in," replied Bellacic, unable to refrain from 
 smiling. 
 
 " How did she come in ? When did she come in ? And with 
 whom did she come in ? " asked the caloyer, angrily. 
 
 " She came in just before the doctor ; you yourself accom- 
 panied her." 
 
 The old man stared at Bellacic. 
 
 " She is the one who came in dressed in boy's clothes ; the 
 
 midwife's daughter accompanied her as far as the " 
 
 " What ! do you mean to say that there are three women, 
 and that one of them is a midwife ? " quoth the monk, 
 shocked. 
 
 Bellacic explained matters. The caloyer consented that 
 Danilo Kvekvic should be sent for to perform the wedding 
 rites in extremis, provided Milena left the convent together 
 with Mara that very evening, and did not return again on the 
 morrow. Bellacic, moreover, having promised to give the 
 church a fine painting, representing the Virgin Mary as she 
 had appeared to Uros the evening before, the whole affair 
 was settled to everyone's perfect satisfaction. 
 
 Mara, who had taken Milena into the adjoining room, said 
 to her : 
 
 " Uros has made his father a strange request, and Bellacic 
 has consented ; for who can gainsay a dying man's wish ? " 
 " I know," said Milena, whose lips were twitching nervously. 
 " He wishes to be married to you." 
 Milena fell into Mara's arms and began to sob. 
 " But," said Milena, " I am so frightened." 
 " Frightened of what ? " 
 " My husband." 
 
 Mara, bewildered for a moment, remembered that Milena 
 had never been told of Radonic's death. 
 
 " I know," continued the young woman, "that he was killed, 
 for he appeared to me only a few hours ago ; and I am so 
 frightened lest he should be recalled again and scare Uros 
 to death." 
 
 " Oh ! if incense is burning the whole time, if many blessed 
 candles are lighted, and the whole room sprinkled with holy 
 water, the ghost will never be able to show itself in such a 
 place ; besides, my dear, you know that you were almost 
 
 22
 
 338 POBRATIM 
 
 delirious, so that the ghost you saw must have only been 
 your fancy." 
 
 " Still, I did not know that he was dead, and I saw him all 
 covered with wounds, and as plainly as I see you now ; he 
 looked at me so fiercely " 
 
 Milena shuddered ; her features grew distorted at the remem- 
 brance of the terrible apparition, and, in her weak state, the 
 little strength left in her forsook her, and she fell fainting into 
 Mara's arms. 
 
 It was with great difficulty that she was brought back to life, 
 and then she consented to the marriage. 
 
 A messenger was sent to Budua to ask Danilo Kvekvic to 
 come and officiate, and the midwife's daughter went with him 
 to bring Milena a dress, as it would have almost been a 
 sacrilege for her to get married in a boy's clothes. 
 
 Danilo Kvekvic came at once ; the young girl brought the 
 clothes and the wreaths, and everything being ready, the 
 lugubrious marriage service was performed ; still, it was to be 
 gone through once more, when Uros should have recovered, if 
 he ever did recover. The monks crowded at the door, looking 
 on wonderingly at the whole affair, for in their quiet, humdrum 
 life, such a ceremony was an unheard of thing, and an event 
 affording them endless gossip. 
 
 The emotion Uros had undergone weakened him in such a 
 way that he fell back fainting. His pulse grew so feeble that it 
 could not be felt any more; his breathing had evidently stopped, 
 a cold perspiration gathered on his brow ; his features acquired 
 not only the rigidity, but also the pinched look and livid tint of 
 death. 
 
 " I am afraid that it is the beginning of the end." 
 
 He began once more reciting the prayers for the dying. 
 Danilo Kvekvic sprinkled him with holy water. All the rest 
 sank on their knees by the bed. A convulsive sob was heard. 
 Milenko, unable to bear the scene any longer, rushed out of 
 the room. 
 
 Whilst he was sobbing, and the friars outside were trying to 
 comfort him, the old monk came out. 
 
 " Well, father ? " said the young man, with a terror-stricken 
 face. 
 
 " It is all over," said the old man, shaking his head gravely. 
 Milenko uttered a deep groan ; then he sank on his knees, 
 kissing the monk's hand devoutly.
 
 FOB RATI M 339 
 
 "Thank you, father, for all that you have done for my 
 brother. If earthly skill could have recalled him to life, yours 
 would have done so. Thank you for your kindness to me and 
 to all of us. Now my task begins ; nor do I rest until it is ac- 
 complished." 
 
 Unable to keep back the tears that were bhnding him, nor the 
 sobs rising to his throat, he rose and ran out of the convent. 
 
 Arriving at Budua, he went everywhere seeking for Vranic ; 
 but he could not find him anywhere. Nothing positive was 
 known about him ; only, it was said that three children had 
 seen him, or someone looking like him, outside the city walls. 
 Later on, a young sailor related that he had rowed a man 
 answering to Vranic's description on board of a ship bound for 
 the coasts of Italy. The ship, a few hours afterwards, had 
 sailed off. 
 
 Weary and disheartened, Milenko went home, where he 
 found his father and mother, who had come back from the 
 convent. 
 
 " Well," said the father, " have you heard anything about 
 Vranic ? " 
 
 " He has fled ; my vengeance has, therefore, to be post- 
 poned. It might take weeks instead of days to accomplish it ; 
 months instead of weeks, and even years instead of months. 
 But I shall not rest before Vranic pays with his own blood for 
 his evil deed," said Milenko. 
 
 " You would not be a Slav, nor my son, if you did not act in 
 this way. Uros had certainly done as much for you." 
 
 "And now," added Milenko, "as I might be called away from 
 this world before accomplishing this great deed of justice, we 
 must gather, to-night, such of our friends and relations as will 
 take with us the terrible oath of blood, the karva tajstvo.'" 
 
 " Be it so," said Janko Markovic. " I, of course, will take 
 the oath with you, my son, and will help you to the utmost of 
 my power." 
 
 Milenko shook his father's hand, and added : " Danilo Kvekvic 
 will be the officiating priest. He, being a relation, will not 
 refuse, will he ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not. He may, of course, demur, but by his 
 innuendoes he led me to understand that he will be waiting for 
 you." 
 
 " He is a real lugo Slav." 
 
 Milenko and his father busied themselves at once about the 
 
 22 — 2
 
 340 POBRATIM 
 
 b 
 
 great ceremony. They went to all the relations and friends of 
 the two famiUes, begging them, now that Uros was dead, to 
 join with them in taking the oath of revenge against Vranic, 
 the murderer. 
 
 Not a man that was asked refused. All shook hands, and 
 promised to be at Markovic's house that night, and from there 
 accompany him to the priest's. 
 
 Night came on. Milenko's mother had gone to sit up with 
 Mara and Milena ; Bellacic had remained to pray at his son's 
 bedside, together with the good monks. One by one the 
 friends and relations of the pobratim, muffled up hke con- 
 spirators, knocked at Markovic's door, and were stealthily 
 allowed to enter. Slivovitz and tobacco were at once placed 
 before the guests. When they were all gathered together, and 
 the town was asleep, they crept out quietly and wended their 
 way through the deserted streets to the priest's house. 
 
 Milenko tapped at the door. 
 
 " They are all asleep at this house," said one of the men ; 
 " you must knock louder." 
 
 Hardly had these words been uttered than a faint ray of light 
 was seen, and, contrary to their expectations, the door was 
 opened by Danilo himself. 
 
 " Milenko ! You, at this hour of the night ? I thought you 
 were at the convent, reciting prayers over my nephew, your 
 pobi'atiin.'" 
 
 " A pobratim has other duties than praying — the holy monks 
 can do that even better than myself." 
 
 " But I am keeping you standing at the door ; what can I do 
 for you ? " 
 
 " We have a request to make, which you will not be surprised 
 at. You must follow us to church." 
 
 " To church, at this hour of the night ? " 
 
 " Yes. We wish — one and all here present — to take the oath 
 of blood against the murderer." 
 
 " But, my children, think of what you are asking of me. 
 Our religion commands us to forgive our enemies. Christ 
 
 " We are Slavs, Danilo Kvekvic," said one of the men. 
 " But Christians, withal, I hope ? " 
 " Still, vengeance with us is a duty, a sacred duty." 
 "I am the pobratim,'' quoth Milenko, "the brother of his 
 choice. Did I not swear before you to avenge any injury done
 
 POBRATIM 341 
 
 to Uros, your nephew ? Do you wish me to forget my oath — 
 to perjure myself ? " 
 
 " Mind, it is the priest, not the uncle, who speaks," said 
 Danilo, sternly ; " therefore, remember that the karva tajstvo is 
 illegal by the laws of our country." 
 
 " By the laws of Austria," cried out several of the men, " not 
 by the laws of our country. We are Slavs, not Austrians." 
 
 •' Come, Danilo, we are men, not children ; trifling is useless, 
 words are but lost breath in this matter," said Janko Markovic. 
 " We are losing time." 
 
 " If you do not follow us with a good will " 
 
 " I see that you mean to carry out your intentions, and that 
 preaching is useless; therefore, I am ready to follow you." 
 
 Saying this, he put his cap on his head, and opened the 
 door. 
 
 " And the key ? " asked Milenko. 
 
 " What key ? " 
 
 " The key of the church." 
 
 " Why, I happen to have it in my pocket." 
 
 The church being opened, what was their surprise to see it 
 draped in black ; but Danilo Kvekvic explained that there had 
 been a funeral service on that very day, and so the church had 
 remained in its mourning weeds. 
 
 Thereupon he shut and locked the doors. Some tapers were 
 lighted on the altar, and the priest, putting on his robes, began 
 to read the service. 
 
 The few candles shed but a glimmering light in the sacred 
 edifice, and the small congregation, kneeling on the benches by 
 the altar, were wrapt in a gloomy darkness which added a 
 horror to the mystery of the ceremony. 
 
 The service for the dead having been read, Kvekvic knelt and 
 partook of the Holy Communion ; then, lighting two other 
 tapers, he called the congregation to him. All gathered at the 
 foot of the altar, and knelt down there. He then took up the 
 chalice, where, according to the Orthodox rites of the Com- 
 munion, bread and wine were kneaded together. Milenko, as 
 the head of the, avengers, went up to the altar, and, bowing 
 before the sacred cup containing the flesh and blood of Jesus 
 Christ, he made a slight cut in the forefinger of his left hand, 
 and then caused a few drops of his own blood to fall on the 
 Eucharist. He was followed by his father, and by all the other 
 partakers of the oath. When the last man had offered up a
 
 342 POBRA TIM 
 
 few drops of blood, the priest mixed it up with the consecrated 
 bread and wine already in the cup. 
 
 " Now," said he, with an inspired voice, " lift up your hands 
 to heaven, and repeat after me the following oath." 
 
 All the men lifted up their hands, each one holding a piece 
 of Uros' blood-stained shirt, and then the priest began : 
 
 " By this blessed bread representing the flesh of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, by the wine that is His own blood, by the blood 
 flowing from our own bodies, for the sake of our beloved Uros 
 Bellacic, heinously murdered, and now sitting amongst the 
 martyrs in heaven, and from there addressing us his prayers, I, 
 Milos Markovic, his pobratim ; I, Janko Markovic, his father of 
 adoption ; I, Marko Lillic, his cousin " (and so on), " all related or 
 connected to him by the ties of blood, or of affection, solemnly 
 swear, in the most absolute and irrevocable manner, not to give 
 our souls any peace, or any rest to our bodies, until the wishes 
 of the blessed martyr be accomplished by taking a severe 
 revenge upon his murderer, Josko Vranic, of this town, on his 
 children (if ever he has any), or, in default, on any of his re- 
 lations, friends and acquaintances who might shelter, protect, 
 or withhold him from our wrath ; and never to cease in our 
 intention, or flag in our pursuit, until we have obtained a 
 complete and cruel satisfaction, equal, at least, to this crime 
 committed by this common enemy of ours. We swear to God 
 the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, that not 
 one of us will ever try to evade the dangers his oath may put 
 him to, or will allow himself to be corrupted by gold or bribes 
 of the murderer or his family, or will listen with a pitiful 
 ear to the prayers, entreaties, or lamentations of the person or 
 persons destined to expiate the crime that has taken place ; 
 and, though his kith-and-kin be innocent of the foul deed 
 perpetrated by their relation, Josko Vranic, we will turn a 
 deaf ear to their words, and only feel for them the horror that 
 the deed committed awakes within us. 
 
 " We swear, moreover, by the blessed Virgin and by all the 
 saints in heaven, that should any of us here present forget the 
 oath he has taken, or break the solemn p^ict of blood, the 
 others will feel themselves bound to take revenge upon him, 
 even as upon the murderer of Uros Bellacic ; and, moreover, 
 the relations of the perjured man, justly put to death, will not 
 be able to exact the rites of the karvaritia.'' 
 
 Thereupon, the men having taken the oath, the priest at the
 
 POBRATIM 343 
 
 altar sank down on his knees, and, uplifting the chalice, con- 
 tinued as follows : 
 
 " We pray Thee, omnipotent God, to listen to our oaths, and, 
 moreover, to help us in fulfilling them. We entreat Thee to 
 punish the murderer in his own person, and in that of his 
 sons for seven successive generations ; to persecute them with 
 Thy malediction, just as if they themselves had committed the 
 murder. We solemnly declare that we will not consider Thee, 
 O Lord, as just ; Thee, O Lord, as saintly ; Thee, O Lord, as 
 strong ; nor shall we regard Thee, O Lord, as capable of 
 governing the world, if Thou dost not lend a listening ear to 
 the eager wishes of our hearts ; for our souls are tormented with 
 the thirst for revenge." 
 
 When they had all finished this prayer, if it can be called 
 a prayer, they, one by one, went and partook of that loath- 
 some communion of blood with all the respect and devotion 
 Christians usually have on approaching the Lord's Table. 
 After that Danilo Kvekvic knelt down once more, and up- 
 lifting his hands in supplication : 
 
 " O Lord, Protector of the oppressed," said he, " Thou 
 punishest all those who transgress Thy wise laws and offend 
 Thee, for Thou art a jealous God. Help these parishioners of 
 mine to fulfil an act of terrestrial justice. Punish, with all Thy 
 wrath, the perpetrator of so abominable a crime ; let him have 
 no rest in this world, and let his soul burn for ever in hell after 
 his death ; scatter his ashes to the winds, and obliterate the 
 very memory of his existence. Amen." 
 
 " Amen," repeated every man after him. 
 
 Thereupon he blessed them all ; and coming down from the 
 altar he shook hands with each one, no more as a priest, but 
 as a relation of the murdered youth, and thanked them for the 
 oath they had taken. 
 
 The candles having been put out, the door of the church was 
 stealthily opened, and, one by one, all the men crept out and 
 vanished in the darkness of the night.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 'SPERA IN DIO 
 
 After the ceremony of the karva tajstvo, all the men who 
 had taken part in it met together at Janko Markovic's house, so 
 as to come to a decision as to what they were to do in their 
 endeavours to capture the murderer. All the information that 
 had been got in Budua about Vranic helped to show that 
 he had embarked on board of an Italian ship, the Diana, which 
 had sailed the evening of the murder. If this were the case, 
 nothing could be done for the present but wait patiently till 
 they could come across him, the communications between 
 Budua and Naples being few and far between. 
 
 " Well," said Milenko, " I'll sail at dawn for Trieste. It is 
 one of the best places where I can get some information about 
 this ship. Moreover, I'll do my best to get a cargo for one of 
 the ports to which she might be destined, and I must really be 
 very unlucky not to come across him before the year is out." 
 
 " And," replied Janko Markovic, " if our information is 
 wrong — if, after all, he's still lurking in this neighbourhood, or 
 hiding somewhere in Montenegro, we shall soon get at him." 
 
 " We have taken the oath," replied all the friends. 
 
 " Thank you. I'm sure that Uros' death will very soon be 
 avenged." 
 
 Slivovitz and wine were then brought out to drink to the 
 success of the karva tajstvo. 
 
 At the first glimmer of dawn, Milenko bade his mother fare- 
 well and asked her to kiss Mara and Milena for him ; then, 
 receiving his father's blessing, and accompanied by all his 
 friends, he left home and went to the ship. 
 
 All the cargo had been taken on board several days before, 
 the papers were in due order, and the ship was now ready to 
 start at a moment's notice. 
 
 No sooner had Milenko got on board than the sleeping crew 
 was roused, the sails were stretched, the anchor was heaved, 
 and the ship began to glide on the smooth surface of the 
 waters.
 
 POBRA TIM 345 
 
 '• Srccno liodi" (a pleasant voyage), shouted the friends, 
 applauding on the pier. 
 
 " Z' Bogam " (God be with you), replied Milenko. 
 
 " Zivio ! " answered the friends. 
 
 The young captain saw the houses of Budua disappear, with 
 a sigh. A heaviness came over him as his eyes rested on a 
 white speck gleaming amidst the surrounding dark rocks. It 
 was the Convent of St. George, where, in his mind's eye, he 
 could see his dearly beloved Uros lying still and lifeless on his 
 narrow bed. 
 
 Then a deep feeling of regret came over him. Why had he 
 rushed away, when his friend had scarcely uttered his last 
 breath ? He might have waited a day or two ; Vranic would 
 not escape him at the end. 
 
 Never before — not even the first time he had left home — had 
 he felt so sad in quitting Budua. He almost fancied now his 
 heart was reft in two, and that the better part had remained 
 behind with his friend. Not even the thought of Ivanka, whom 
 he so dearly loved, could comfort him. A sailor's life — which 
 had hitherto had such a charm for him while his friend was on 
 board the same ship with him — now lost all its attraction, and if 
 he had not been prompted by his craving for revenge, he would 
 have taken the ship to Trieste (where she was bound to), and 
 there, having sold his share, he would have gone back to 
 Budua. 
 
 The days seemed endless to him. The crew of the ship, 
 although composed of Dalmatians, was almost of an alien race ; 
 they were from the island of Lussin, and Roman Catholics 
 besides — in fact, quite different people from the inhabitants of 
 Budua or the Kotor; and, had it not been for a youth whom 
 he had embarked with him from his native town, he would 
 have scarcely spoken to anyone the whole of the voyage, 
 except, of course, to give the necessary orders. 
 
 No life, indeed, is lonelier than that of a captain having no 
 mate, boatswain or second officer with him. Fortunately, 
 however, for Milenko, Peric — the youth he had taken with him 
 to teach him navigation — was a rather intelligent lad, and, as 
 it was the first time he had left home, he was somewhat home- 
 sick, so, in their moments of despondency, each one tried to 
 cheer and comfort the other. 
 
 In the night — keeping watch on deck — he would often, as in 
 his childhood, lean over the side of the ship and look within
 
 346 POBRA TIM 
 
 the fast flowing waters. When the sea was as smooth and as 
 dark as a metal mirror, he — after gazing in it for some time — 
 usually saw the water get hazy and whitish ; then, little by 
 little, strange sights appear and disappear. Some of them 
 were prophetic visions. Once, he saw within the waters a 
 frigate on fire. It was, indeed, a sight worth seeing. The 
 vision repeated itself three times. Milenko, feeling rather 
 anxious, began to look around, and then he saw a faint light 
 far on the open sea. There was no land or island there. 
 Could that light, he asked himself, be that of a ship on 
 fire ? He at once gave orders to steer in the direction of 
 the light. As the distance diminished, the brightness grew 
 apace. The flames, that could now be seen rising up in the 
 sky, made the men believe that it was some new submarine 
 volcano. Milenko, however, felt that his vision had been 
 prophetic. 
 
 He added more sails ; and, as the breeze was favourable, 
 the Spera in Dio flew swiftly on the waters. Soon he could 
 not only see the flames, but the hulk of the ship, which looked 
 like a burning island ; moreover, the cargo must have been 
 either oil or resin, for the sea itself seemed on fire. 
 
 In the glare the conflagration shed all around, Milenko 
 perceived a small boat struggling hard to keep afloat, for it 
 was so over-crowded that, at every stroke of the oars, it 
 seemed about to sink. 
 
 The joy of that shipwrecked crew, finding themselves safe 
 on board the Spei'a in Dio, was inexpressible. 
 
 Another time he saw, within the sea, the country beyond the 
 walls of his native town. A boy of about ten was leading an 
 old horse in the fields. After some time, the boy seemed to 
 look for some stump on which to tether the horse he had led 
 to pasture ; but, finding none, he tied the rope round his own 
 ankle and lay down to sleep. Suddenly, the old horse — 
 frightened at something — began to run, the boy awoke and 
 tried to rise, but he stumbled and fell. His screams evidently 
 frightened the old horse, which ran faster and ever faster, 
 dragging the poor boy through the bushes and briars, dash- 
 ing him against the stones of the roadside. When, at last, 
 the horse was stopped, the boy was only a bruised and 
 bleeding mass. 
 
 " Oh," said Milenko to Peric, " I have had such a horrible 
 vision ! "
 
 POBRATIM 347 
 
 " I hope it is not about my little brother," replied the youth. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I really don't know ; but all at once the idea came into my 
 head that the poor boy must have died." 
 
 " Strange ! " quoth Milenko, as he walked away, not to be 
 questioned as to his vision. 
 
 One evening, when the moon had gone below the horizon 
 looking like a reaping-hook steeped in blood, and nothing could 
 be seen all around but the broad expanse of the dark waters, 
 reflecting the tiny stars twinkling in the sky above, Milenko 
 saw, all at once, the white walls of St. George's Convent. The 
 doors, usually shut, were now opened. Uros appeared on the 
 threshold. There he received the blessing of the old monk 
 who had tended him during his illness, and whose hands he now 
 kissed with even more affection and thankfulness than devotion ; 
 then, hugged and kissed by all the other caloyers, who had got 
 to be as fond of him as of a son or a brother, he bade them 
 all farewell. Then, leaning on Milena's arm, and followed 
 by his father and mother, he wended his way down the moun- 
 tain and towards the town. Uros was still thin and pale, but 
 all traces of suffering had disappeared from his face. Though 
 he and Milena were man and wife — having been married tn 
 extremis — still they were lovers, and his weakness v/as a 
 plausible pretext to lean lovingly on her arm, and stop every 
 now and then to look lovingly within her lustrous eyes, and 
 thus give vent to the passion that lay heavy on his heart ; and 
 once, when his parents had disappeared behind a corner, he 
 stopped, put his arm round her waist, then their lips met in a 
 long, silent kiss, which brought the blood up to their cheeks. 
 Then the picture faded, and the waters were again as black as 
 night ; only, his ears whistled, and he almost fancied he could 
 hear Uros' voice in a distance speaking of him. 
 
 Of course, Milenko knew that all this was but a delusion, a 
 dream, a hallucination of his fancy, and he tried to think of his 
 friend lying stiff and stark within his coffin ; still, his imagination 
 was unruly, and showed him Uros at home alive and happy. 
 
 These visions about his friend were all the same ; thus, 
 nearly three weeks after he had left Budua, one evening, when 
 sad and gloomy, he was thinking of Uros' funeral, to which he 
 now regretted not to have remained and assisted, he saw, 
 within the depths of the dark blue sea, Bellacic's house 
 adorned as for a great festivity. Not only was a banquet pre-
 
 348 POBRATIM 
 
 pared ; gitzlars played on their instruments, and guests arrived 
 in holiday attire, but Uros, who had almost regained his former 
 good looks, was, in his dress of the Kotor, as handsome as a 
 Mack. Milena, as beautiful as when, in bridal attire, she had 
 come from Montenegro, was standing by his side. Soon Danilo 
 Kvekvic came, wearing a rich stole. The guests lighted the 
 tapers they were holding ; wreaths were placed on Milena's 
 and Uros' heads. This was the wedding ceremony that would 
 have taken place had Uros recovered from his wound, and of 
 which Milenko had certainly not been thinking. 
 
 Milenko at last reached Trieste, where he found a letter 
 waiting for him. The news it contained would have made his 
 heart beat rapidly with joy had Uros only been with him. Now, 
 reading this letter, he only heaved a deep sigh. It was almost 
 a sigh of forlorn hope. Fate but too often, whilst granting us a 
 most coveted boon, seems to feel a malicious pleasure either in 
 disappointing us entirely, or, at least, in blunting the edge of 
 our joy. This letter was from Giulianic, who, having redeemed 
 his pledge from his friend Bellacic, was now but too glad to 
 have him for his son-in-law. Moreover, he urged him to come 
 over to Nona. 
 
 Nothing, indeed, prevented Milenko from consigning the ship 
 to the captain, who was waiting for him at Trieste, and selling 
 his share of the brig. Still, he could not think of doing so, or 
 engaging himself, or settling any time for his marriage before 
 Uros' death had been avenged. He, therefore, wrote at once 
 to Giulianic, thanking him for his kindness to him, stating, 
 nevertheless, the reasons which obliged him to postpone his 
 marriage until the vows of the karvartna had been fulfilled. 
 
 At Trieste, Milenko found out that the Diana, the ship on 
 which Vranic was embarked, was a Genoese brig, usually sail- 
 ing to and from the Adriatic and the Levant ports ; occasionally, 
 she would come as far as Trieste or Venice, usually laden with 
 boxes of oranges and lemons, and sail back with a cargo of 
 timber. It would have been easy enough to have him appre- 
 hended by one of the Austrian consuls in the ports where the 
 Diana might be bound to, but the vengeance of the karva tajstvo 
 is not done by deputy nor confided to the poHce. 
 
 At the shipbroker's to which the Spera in Dio was consigned, 
 Milenko also found a letter from the captain, his partner in the 
 ship, saying that, far from coming to take charge of the ship, 
 he was inclined to sell his share ; and Milenko, who was very
 
 POBRATIM 349 
 
 anxious to be free and to sail for those ports where he might 
 easier come across the Diana, bought the otlier half, and soon 
 afterwards, having managed to get a cargo of timber for 
 Pozzuoli, he set sail without delay, hoping to be in time to 
 catch Vranic in Naples. 
 
 Not far from the rocky island of Melada, which the Dalma- 
 tians say is the Melita of the Scriptures, the Spera in Dio met 
 with very stormy weather and baffling winds. Thereabouts one 
 rough and cloudy night, when not only Milenko but almost all 
 the men were on deck, they all at once saw a ship looming in 
 the darkness at a short distance from them. The captain had 
 either forgotten to hoist a light, or else had let it go out. When 
 they perceived that dark shadow, only a little darker than the 
 surrounding night, they did their utmost to steer out of her 
 way. The other ship likewise seemed to try and tack about, 
 but driven as she was by a strong head- wind, it was quite 
 impossible to make her change her direction and avoid a 
 collision. 
 
 A few moments after the dark phantom was seen a loud 
 crash was heard ; it was the groan of a monster falling with a 
 thud upon his adversary, felling him with his ponderous 
 mass. The unknown ship had unexpectedly come and butted 
 against the Spera in Dio amidships, like a huge battering-ram, 
 breaking the beams, shivering the planks, cutting the harmless 
 ship nearly in two, and allowing the waters to pour in through 
 the huge cleft. 
 
 Some of the sailors managed to climb up the other ship ; 
 most of the crew clung to the timber with which the ship was 
 laden. Milenko remained on the sinking wreck until dawn. 
 
 The other ship — an Italian schooner — cruised about, and 
 tried to remain as much as she possibly could on the same 
 spot, till early in the morning, so as to pick up all the men 
 of the wreck. Three of the crew, however, must have been 
 washed away, for they were not seen anywhere, or ever after- 
 wards heard of. 
 
 The schooner, that had been also considerably damaged, 
 sailed to Trieste as well as she could. Fortunately for Milenko, 
 the Spera in Dio had been insured for more than her value, and 
 happening to find another ship for sale, the Giustizia di Dio, 
 he bought it, and, on the whole, made a very good bargain. 
 He soon got another cargo for Naples, and, a month after his 
 return, he once more sailed in search of Vranic.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 FLIGHT 
 
 Vranic, having stabbed Uros, remained for a moment rooted 
 to the spot where he stood. When he saw the red blood gush 
 out of the wound and dye the white shirt, he stared at the 
 young man bewildered ; he could hardly understand what he 
 had done. A strange feeling came over him. He almost 
 fancied he was awalcing from a horrid dream, and that he was 
 witnessing a deed done, not by himself, but by some person 
 quite unknown to him. When he saw Uros put his hand up 
 to the wound, then stagger, he was about to help him ; but 
 Milenko having appeared, lie shuddered, came to his senses 
 and ran off. 
 
 Vranic had always been cursed with a morbidly discon- 
 tented disposition, as peevish and as fretful as a porcupine. 
 Although he was superstitiously religious, and strictly kept all 
 feasts and fasts, still, at the same time, he felt a grudge — almost 
 a hatred — against God, who had made him so unlike other 
 men ; who, far from granting him the boon of health to which 
 he felt he had a right, had stamped him with an indelible sign 
 so that all might keep aloof from him. He envied all the men 
 he knew, for they laughed and were merry, when he himself 
 was as gloomy as a lonely spider in its dusty old web. Still, 
 as he vented the little energy that was in him in secret ran- 
 cour, he would never have harmed anybody. He had, it was 
 true, cut down Bellacic's vines, but had done so instigated by 
 his friends, or rather, by Bellacic's enemies. If he had stabbed 
 Uros, it was really done in a moment of madness, driven almost 
 to despair by many sleepless nights, by the shame and pain 
 caused by the loss of his ear. 
 
 Having done that dreadful deed, he understood that the 
 Convent of St. George was no shelter for him. Besides, seeing 
 Uros fall lifeless, his first impulse was flight. It mattered little 
 whither he went. It was only after a short time when, breath-
 
 POBRATIM 351 
 
 less and faint, he stumbled against a stone and fell, that the 
 thought of finding some hiding-place came into his head. 
 
 He lurked amongst the rocks the whole of that day, terrified 
 at the slightest noise he heard, trembling with fear if a bird flew 
 beside him, startled at his own shadow. At times he almost 
 fancied the stones had eyes and were looking at him, and that 
 weird, uncouth shapes moved in the bushes below. 
 
 He was not hungry, but his lips were parched, his mouth felt 
 clammy with thirst ; still, there was not a drop of water to 
 be had, nothing but the hot sun from the sky above, and the 
 glow of the scorching stones from below. 
 
 Then he asked himself again and again what he was to do 
 and where he was to go. 
 
 Fear evoked a terrible bugbear in every imaginary path he 
 took. If he went back to Budua he would be murdered by his 
 foes or arrested by the Austrian police ; Montenegro was out of 
 the question. 
 
 He had, by chance, seen during the day an Italian vessel 
 ready to sail. The ship was still at anchor in the bay, for he 
 could see it from his hiding-place. If he could only manage to 
 get on board he might be safe there. Once out of Budua, he 
 cared but little whithersoever chance sent him. 
 
 The best thing he could do was to wait till nightfall, then to 
 creep stealthily into town. It was not likely that the murder 
 was known to everybody ; if he could only get unseen to the 
 marina without crossing the town, he then might get some boat- 
 man to row him to the Italian ship. 
 
 The day seemed to be an endless one, and even when the 
 sun had set, the red light of the after-glow struggled to keep 
 night away. 
 
 At last, when the shades of night fell upon the country, he 
 began to scramble down, avoiding the path and the high road, 
 shuddering whenever he caught the sound of a footstep, feeling 
 sick if a rustling leaf was blown down against him. At last he 
 reached the gates of the town, but instead of going in, he fol- 
 lowed the walls, and thus managed to get to the port. 
 
 It was now quite dark ; some fishermen were setting out for 
 the night, others were coming back home, laden with their 
 prey. He kept aloof from them all. 
 
 After some time, he found a sailor lad sleeping in his boat. 
 He shook him and woke him, then he asked him to row him to 
 the Italian ship that was about to sail.
 
 352 
 
 POBRATIM 
 
 ■ The boy at first demurred, but the sight of a small silver 
 coin overcame all his drowsiness as well as his objections. He 
 consented to ferry him across. 
 
 " Do you know what boat she is ? " asked Vranic. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " If you are going to her, I suppose you know her name, 
 too." 
 
 " Can't you answer a question ? " said Vranic, snappishly. 
 
 " She's the Diana:' 
 
 " From ? " 
 
 " Genoa, I believe." 
 
 " And bound ? " 
 
 " To Naples ; but Italian ships don't take Slavs on board." 
 said the lad. 
 
 Vranic did not give him any answer. 
 
 " Are you a sailor ? " asked the boy, after a while. 
 
 " No. I — I have some business in Italy." 
 
 As soon as they were alongside the ship, Vranic called for 
 the captain. 
 
 The master, who was having his supper on deck, asked him 
 what he wanted. 
 
 " Are you bound for Naples ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Can you take me on board ? " 
 
 "As?" 
 
 " As sailor ? I'll work my way." 
 
 " No. I have no need of sailors." 
 
 " Then as a passenger ? " 
 
 " We are a cargo ship." 
 
 " Still, if I make it worth your while ? " 
 
 " Our accommodation might not be such as would suit you." 
 
 The captain suspected this man, who came to him in the 
 midst of the darkness asking for a passage, of having perpe- 
 trated some crime. He felt sure that Budua was too hot a 
 place for him, and that he was anxious to get away. 
 
 " I can put up with anything — a sack on deck." 
 
 " Climb up," replied the captain. 
 
 Vranic managed to catch the rope ladder, and, after much 
 difficulty, he climbed on board. 
 
 The captain, seeing him and not liking his looks, felt con- 
 firmed in his suspicions ; therefore he asked him a rather large
 
 POBRA TIM 353 
 
 sum, as least three times what he would have asked from any- 
 body else. 
 
 Vranic tried to haggle, but at last he paid the money down. 
 The lad with the boat disappeared ; still, he only felt safe when 
 — a few hours afterwards — the anchor having been heaved, the 
 sails spread, the ship began to glide on the waters, and the dim 
 lights of Budua disappeared in the distance. 
 
 The sea was calm, the breeze fair ; the crossing of the 
 Adriatic seemed likely to be a prosperous one. 
 
 A bed having been made up for him in the cabin, Vranic, 
 weary and worn out, lay down ; and, notwithstanding all 
 his torturing thoughts, his mind, by degrees, became clouded 
 and he went off to sleep. It is true, he had hardly closed 
 his eyes when he woke up again, thinking of Uros as he 
 had seen him when the blood was gushing out of his wound ; 
 then a spectre even more dreadful to behold rose before his 
 eyes. It was the voiikoiidlak, from which he was escaping. 
 Still, bodily and mental fatigue overcame all remorse, and, 
 feeling safe from his enemies, he went off to sleep, and, not- 
 withstanding a series of dreadful dreams, he slept more soundly 
 than he had done for many a night. 
 
 When he awoke the next morning, all trace of land had 
 disappeared ; nothing was seen but the glittering waters of 
 the blue sea and the glowing sun overhead. He was safe ; 
 remorse had vanished with fear ; he only felt, not simply 
 hungry, but famished. 
 
 Everything went on well for two or three days. The smacking 
 breeze blew persistently. In a day more they hoped to reach 
 Naples. The crew had nothing to do but to mend old sails, 
 to eat and sleep. They were a merry set of men, as easily 
 amused as children ; besides, all of them were wonderfully 
 musical and possessed splendid voices. Gennaro, the youngest, 
 especially might have made a great fortune as a tenor. In 
 the evening they would sing all in a chorus, accompanying 
 themselves with a guitar, a mandoline and a triangle. 
 
 Vranic, amongst them, was like an owl in an aviary of 
 singing-birds ; besides, he knew but few words of Italian 
 and could hardly understand their dialect. Although his 
 sleep was no more molested by vampires, and he tried not 
 to think of the crime he had committed, and almost succeeded 
 in driving away the visions that haunted him at times, still he 
 was anything but happy. Was he not an exile from his native 
 
 23
 
 354 POBRA TIM 
 
 country, for, even if the Austrian law could be defeated, would 
 not the terrible karvarina be exercised against him whenever 
 he met one of Bellacic's numerous friends ? 
 
 In this mood — wrapped in his gloomy thoughts — Vranic kept 
 aloof from every man on board. To the captain's questions he 
 ever answered in monosyllables ; nor was he more talkative 
 with the sailors. Once they asked him to tell them a story of 
 his country, and he complied. 
 
 " Shall I tell you the story of the youth who was going to 
 seek his fortune ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it must be a very interesting one." 
 
 " Well — a youth was going to seek his fortune." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " The night before he was about to leave his village a storm 
 destroyed the bridge over which he had to pass." 
 
 " Well— and then ? " 
 
 '• He waited till they built another bridge." 
 
 " But go on." 
 
 " There is no going on, for the young man is waiting still," 
 said he, with a sneer. 
 
 After two or three days, Vranic was looked upon by all on 
 board as a peevish, sullen fellow, and he was left to his own 
 dreary meditations. 
 
 One of the sailors, besides, got it into his head that Vranic 
 had the gift of the evil eye, and it did not take very long to 
 convince every man on board of the truth of this assertion. 
 Whenever he looked at them, they invariably shut their two 
 middle fingers, and pointed the index and little finger at him, 
 so as to counteract the effect of the jettatura. The only man 
 on board who did not fear Vranic was the mate, for he 
 possessed a charm far more potent than a crooked nail, a 
 horse-shoe, a bit of horned coral, or even a little silver hump- 
 backed man — this was a horse-chestnut, which he was once 
 fortunate enough to catch as it was faUing from the tree, and 
 before it had touched the ground. He cherished it as a 
 treasure, and kept it constantly in his pocket. It was infallible 
 against the evil eye, and was powerful in many other circum- 
 stances. He was a most lucky man, and, in fact, he felt sure 
 he owed his good fortune to this talisman of his. 
 
 Although the weather was delightful, still the captain and 
 the crew could not help feeling a kind of premonition of evil 
 to come ; all were afraid that, sooner or later. Vranic would
 
 POBRA TIM 355 
 
 bring them ill-luck. At last the coasts of Italy were in sight, 
 but with the far-off coasts, a small cloud, a mere speck of 
 vapour, was seen on the horizon. It was but a tiny white 
 flake, a soft, silvery spray, torn from some shrub blossoming 
 in an unknown Eden, and blown by the west wind in the 
 sky. It also looked like a patch worn by coquettish Nature 
 to enhance the diaphanous watchet-blue of the atmosphere. 
 Still, the sailors frowned at it, and called the feathery cloudlet 
 — scudding lazily about — a squall, and they were all glad to be 
 in sight of the land. The breeze freshened, the sea changed 
 its colour, the waves rolled heavily ; their tops were crested 
 with foam. Still, the ship made gallantly for the neighbouring 
 coast. 
 
 The little cloud kept increasing in size ; first it lengthened 
 itself in a wonderful way, like a snake spreading itself out ; it 
 also grew of a darker, duller tint. Then it rolled itself together, 
 piled itself up, augmenting in volume, till it almost covered the 
 whole of the horizon. Finally, it began to droop downwards, 
 tapering ever lower, and losing itself in a mist. The sea under- 
 neath began to be agitated, to boil and to bubble, seething with 
 white foam ; then a dense smoke arose from the sea and 
 mounted upwards as if to meet the descending column of mist 
 from the cloud just above it ; both the cloud and the upheaving 
 waves moved with the greatest rapidity, and seemed to be 
 attracted by the ship, which endeavoured to tack about and 
 steer away from them. 
 
 All at once, the water overhead met the ascending mist, and 
 then a sparkling, silvery cloud arose in the spout, just like 
 quicksilver in a glass tube. 
 
 All the men were on deck, attending to the captain's direc- 
 tions ; all eyes were attracted by the weird, beautiful, yet terri- 
 fying sight. The master, at the helm, did his best to avoid it, 
 by changing the ship's direction ; still, the column of water ad- 
 vanced threateningly in their course. It came nearer and ever 
 nearer ; now it was at a gun-shot from the ship ; if they had 
 had a cannon on board, they might have fired against it and 
 dissolved it, but they had no firearms. The atmosphere 
 around them was getting dark with mist, the waterspout was 
 coming against them, and if that mass of water burst down on 
 the ship it would founder at once. 
 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 " Leave the ship, and take to the boats," said some of the 
 
 23—2
 
 356 POBRATIM 
 
 crew, but it was already too late ; they could not help being 
 involved in the cataclysm. 
 
 Some of the men had sunk on their knees, and were asking 
 the Virgin or St. Nicholas of Bari to come to their help. 
 
 " There is a remedy," said Vranic to the captain ; " an in- 
 fallible remedy." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked the master, with the eagerness of a 
 drowning man clutching at a straw. 
 
 " If a sailor amongst the crew happens to be the eldest of 
 seven sons he can at once dissolve that cursed column of water, 
 the joint work of the evil spirits of the air and those of the 
 sea." 
 
 " How so ? " asked the captain. 
 
 " Draw, at once, a pentagon, or five-pointed star, or King 
 Solomon's seal, on a piece of white paper, and let such a sailor, 
 if he be on board, stab it through the centre." 
 
 The captain called all the men together, and asked if anyone 
 amongst them happened to be, by chance, the eldest of seven 
 brothers. 
 
 " My father has seven sons, and I am the eldest," said 
 Gennaro, that curly-headed, bright-eyed Sicilian youth, for 
 whom life seemed all sunshine. " Whj', what am I to do ? " 
 
 The waterspout was advancing rapidly, the sea was lashed 
 by the mighty waves, and the ship, like a nutshell, was being 
 tossed against it. 
 
 Vranic, who had drawn the cabalistic sign, handed it to the 
 captain. 
 
 " Stab that star in the centre, quickly." 
 
 The Slav took out a little black dagger, and gave it to the 
 youth. 
 
 " Be quick 1 there is no time to be lost." 
 
 The murmuring and hissing sound the column of water had 
 been making had changed into the deafening roar of a water- 
 fall. It seemed to be whirling round with vertiginous rapidity, 
 as it came upon them. 
 
 " Make haste ! " added the captain. 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 "Do it ! this is no time to ask questions ! " replied the 
 master. 
 
 " And then ? " quoth the youth, turning to Vranic. 
 
 " The waterspout will melt into rain." 
 
 " And what will happen to me ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 357 
 
 " To you ? Why, nothing." 
 
 " I am frightened." 
 
 A vivid flash of Ughtning appeared, and the rumbling of the 
 thunder now mingled itself with the roaring of the waters. 
 
 " Frightened of what ? " said the captain. 
 
 "That man has the jettatura ; I am sure he means mischief." 
 
 " What a coward you are I Do what I order you, or, by the 
 Madonna " 
 
 " What harm can befall you for stabbing a bit of paper ? " 
 said some of the sailors. 
 
 "Quick! it is the only chance of saving us all! " added the 
 boatswain. 
 
 " Only, if you don't make haste, it'll be too late." 
 
 The abyss of the waters seemed to open before the ship, 
 ready to engulf it ; the waves were rolling over it. 
 
 Gennaro crossed himself devoutly, then he muttered a prayer; 
 at last he took up the dagger and stabbed the pentagon in the 
 very middle, just where Vranic had pointed to him with his 
 finger ; still, he grew ghastly pale as he did so. 
 
 " Holy Mother," said the youth, "forgive me if I have done 
 wrong ! " 
 
 All the eyes anxiously turned from the bit of paper to the 
 waterspout, whirling round and coming ever nearer. 
 
 All at once the whirling seemed to stop ; then, as the motion 
 relaxed, the column of water snapped somewhat above the 
 middle; the lower portion, or base, relapsed and gradually 
 fell ; it was absorbed by the rising waves and the bubbling 
 and foaming waters. The higher portion began to curl up- 
 wards and to disappear amidst the huge mass of lowering 
 clouds overhead. 
 
 " There," said Vranic, " I told you the spout would melt 
 away and vanish." 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said the captain. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " said Gennaro, as he again crossed himself 
 and handed the dagger to its owner, evidently glad to get rid 
 of it. 
 
 " Well, you see that you were not struck dead," said the 
 boatswain to the youth. 
 
 " Nor carried away by the devil," said another of the sailors. 
 
 "The year is not yet out, nor the day either," thought 
 Vranic to himself; "and even if you live, you may rue this 
 day and the deed you've done."
 
 358 POBRATIM 
 
 "You have saved all our lives, and we thank you, Gennaro," 
 added the captain. " I shall never forget you ; and I hope 
 that, as long as I command a ship, we'll never part." 
 
 Thereupon, he clasped him in his arms and kissed him 
 fondly. 
 
 " Thank you, captain ; and may San Gennaro, my patron 
 saint, and the blessed Virgin, grant you your wish and mine." 
 
 " We thank you, too," said the captain to Vranic, feeling 
 himself bound to say something; " you are really a magician, 
 and you know the secret of the elements." 
 
 " Oh ! it is a thing that every child knows in our country, 
 just like pouring oil in the sea to calm the waves." 
 
 The men said nothing, but they were all glad the coasts 
 were near, and that they would soon get rid of this uncanny 
 and uncouth man. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the sun had gone down, and dark night 
 spread itself like a pall over the sea. The storm then in- 
 creased with the darkness. The waterspout had vanished, 
 but in its stead a pouring rain came down ; the wind also 
 began to blow in fitful blasts, and as it came in a contrary 
 direction they were obliged to tack about, and to take in 
 the sails. The storm, however, kept increasing at a fearful 
 rate ; the wind was blowing a real hurricane ; all sails, even 
 the jib, had to be reefed. The sea, lashed by the wind, 
 became ever more boisterous ; the waves rose in succession, 
 uplifting themselves the one on top of the other, and dash- 
 ing against the ship, which ever seemed ready to founder. 
 All hands were now at the pumps, and Vranic, along with 
 the others, worked away with all his strength. 
 
 Steering — as the ship had done — to avoid the waterspout, 
 she had been continually altering her course, so that the 
 captain did not exactly know whereabouts they were. In 
 the midst of the darkness and with the torrents of rain that 
 came pouring down, all traces of land had long disappeared. 
 
 All at once a mightier gust of wind came down upon the ship, 
 the beams groaned, then there was a tremendous crash and 
 one of the masts came down. There was a moment of panic 
 and confusion; Vranic fell upon his knees and began to pray 
 for help. 
 
 Soon after that a light was seen at no very great distance. 
 
 " We are saved," said the captain ; " there is Cape Campa- 
 nella lighthouse."
 
 POBRA TIM 359 
 
 All eyes were fixed upon that beacon. 
 
 " It is rather too low to be Cape Campanella," added the 
 boatswain. 
 
 "Yes; and, besides, it flashes every two minutes," replied 
 the captain. 
 
 They thereupon concluded that it was the lighthouse on 
 Catena Point, the south-western extremity of the island of 
 Capri. 
 
 Thinking it to be Cape Campanella, they had steered to- 
 wards the light — the only dangerous part of the island, on 
 account of the reef, which stretches out a long way into the 
 sea. When they found out their mistake it was too late to 
 avoid the danger that threatened them ; the ship was dashed 
 against the rocks, which were heard grating under the keel 
 and ripping open the sides, like the teeth of some famished 
 monster of the deep. Fortunately, the brig had got tightly 
 wedged between two rocks and kept fast there, so nothing 
 was to be done but work hard at the pumps, trying to keep 
 out as much water as they possibly could. 
 
 The night seemed everlasting. Still, by degrees, the storm 
 subsided, and at dawn the wind had gone down and the sea 
 had grown calm. 
 
 At daybreak help came from the shore. 
 
 " The ship is very much damaged," said the captain, " and 
 so is the cargo, doubtless ; but, at least, there are no lives 
 lost," added he, looking round. 
 
 A few moments afterwards, the boatswain, wanting some- 
 thing, called Gennaro, but no answer came. He called again 
 and again, cursed his canine breed, but with no better success. 
 
 " Where is Gennaro ? " asked the captain 
 
 The youth was sought down below, but he was nowhere 
 to be found. All the men of the crew looked at one another 
 enquiringly, and at last the questions that everyone was afraid 
 to ask were uttered. 
 
 Had the youth been swept away by one of the huge breakers 
 that washed over the deck ? Had he been killed by the falling 
 mast, or blown into the deep by a sudden and unexpected 
 gust of wind? No one had seen him disappear; all looked 
 around, expecting to see the handsome face of the youth they 
 loved so well rising above the waves ; but the green waters 
 kept their secret. After that, all eyes turned towards Vranic, 
 as if asking for an answer.
 
 36o POBRA TIM 
 
 " The last time I saw the youth was when he was workinisf 
 at the pumps by me, just before the mast came down." 
 
 They all muttered some oath, unintelligible to him, and then 
 a prayer for the youth. After that Vranic was only too glad to 
 leave the ship, for every man on board seemed to look upon 
 him as the cause of Gennaro's mysterious disappearance. 
 
 Having remained a week in Naples, seeing his money, the 
 only thing he loved, dwindle away, Vranic did his best to find 
 some employment. He for a few days got a living as a porter, 
 helping to unload sacks from an English ship. Still, that was 
 but a very precarious living, and he decided to follow a sea- 
 faring life, not because he was fond of it, but only to keep clear 
 from his enemies and the laws of his country, and the vampire 
 that had haunted him there every night. 
 
 He happened to find employment, as cook, on the very ship 
 he had helped to discharge. It was an English schooner, bound 
 for Glasgow. The captain, a crusty old bachelor, was a real 
 hermit-crab ; the men, a most ruffianly set. Vranic, being 
 hardly able to speak with anyone, indulged in his morose way 
 of living, and, except for being kicked about every now and 
 then, he was left very much to himself. 
 
 From Glasgow the schooner sailed for Genoa, where she 
 arrived just as the Giustizia di Dio was about to set sail. The 
 two ships came so close together that Vranic, who kept a sharp 
 look-out whenever he saw an Austrian flag, recognised Milenko 
 standmg on the deck and ordering some manoeuvres. 
 
 Although the young man could not perceive him, hidden as 
 he was in the darkness of the galley, and bending over the 
 stove, still Vranic felt a shock that for a few moments almost 
 deprived him of his senses, and made him feel quite sick. 
 
 That day the dinner was quite a failure. The roast was 
 burnt; the potatoes, instead, were raw; the cauliflower was un- 
 eatable, and salt had been put in the pudding instead of sugar. 
 
 If there is anything trying to human patience, it is a spoilt 
 dinner, especially the first one gets in port. It is, therefore, 
 not to be wondered at that the captain, never very forbearing at 
 the best of times, got so angry that he kicked Vranic down the 
 hatchway and almost crippled him. 
 
 Although the Dalmatian ship sailed away, bound probably 
 towards the East, and he would perhaps never see her captain 
 again, still the shock he felt had quite unnerved him. From 
 that day matters began to go on from bad to worse. Sailing
 
 POBRATIM 361 
 
 from Genoa, they first met with contrary winds, and much 
 time was lost cruising about ; after that came a spell of calm 
 weather, and for long weeks they remained in sight of the bold 
 promontory and of the lighthouse of Cape Beam, not far from 
 the port of Vendres. At last a fair wind arose, the sails were 
 made taut, and the schooner flew on the crested waves. A new 
 life seemed to have come over the crew, tired of their listless 
 inactivity ; the captain cursed Vranic and kicked him a little 
 less than he had done on the previous days. 
 
 It was to be hoped that the wind would continue fair ; other- 
 wise their provisions would begin falling short. Ill-luck, how- 
 ever, was awaiting them in another direction. 
 
 Opening a keg of salted meat a few days later, the stench 
 was so loathsome, that it reminded Vranic of that awful night 
 when he had stabbed the vampire ; besides, big worms were 
 crawling and wriggling at the top. Vranic at once called the 
 mate and showed him the rotten meat, and the mate reported 
 the fact to the captain. He only answered with a few oaths, 
 then shrugged his shoulders, and said that dogs would lick 
 their chops at such dainty morsels, and were his men any 
 better than dogs ? 
 
 " Wash it well, clean it, and put some vinegar with it," said 
 the mate, who was the best man on board. " There is no other 
 meat, and that is better than starving." 
 
 Vranic did as he was bid ; he put more pepper than usual. 
 Still, he himself did not taste it, but lived on biscuit, for even 
 the potatoes had been all eaten up. 
 
 A few days afterwards, taking out another piece from the 
 cask, he drew out a sinewy human arm, hacked in several 
 places, and with the fingers chopped off. Shuddering, and 
 seized with a feeling of loathsomeness, he stood for a moment 
 bewildered. Then he almost fancied he had touched some- 
 thing hairy in the cask, and looking in, he saw a disfigured and 
 bearded man's head. Sickening at the gruesome sight, he 
 dropped the arm into the cask and hastened to the mate, trying 
 to explain to him what the barrel contained. 
 
 The mate could hardly understand and would not believe 
 him, but soon he had to yield to the evidence of his own senses. 
 The mate, in his turn, reported the horrible fact to the captain, 
 who asked both men not to divulge the secret to the crew. 
 When night came on, the cask and its contents were thrown 
 overboard. The captain was not to blame for what the cask
 
 362 POBRA TIM 
 
 contained, nor were the ship-chandlers, who had supplied him 
 at other times upon leaving Scotland. The cask bore the 
 trade-mark of a well-known foreign house trading in preserved 
 meat. 
 
 The provisions, which had been scarce, now began to fall 
 short; but in a day or two they would have reached their 
 destination. The wind, however, was contrary, and some delay 
 ensued. Hunger was now beginning to be felt. The crew, over- 
 worked and badly fed, first grew sullen ; the foremost of them, 
 with scowling looks, began to utter threatening words. Orders 
 given were badly obeyed, or not obeyed at all. Long pent-up 
 anger seemed every moment ready to break out — first against 
 the captain, then against the mate, finally against Vranic, 
 who, they said, was leagued against them. 
 
 The boatswain especially hated him. 
 
 " Since that cursed foreigner has come on board," said he, 
 " everything has been going from bad to worse. Even the pro- 
 visions seem to dwindle and waste away." 
 
 " I'd not be surprised," added one of the sailors, "that he is 
 leagued with the captain to poison the whole lot of us, for, in 
 fact, the meat tasted like carrion, and I don't know what's up 
 with me." 
 
 "Nonsense! Why poison us? Starving is much better," 
 quoth another. 
 
 A trifle soon brought on a quarrel, which ended in a tussle. 
 Vranic got cuffed and kicked about ; he had been born in an 
 unlucky moment, and everyone hated him without really under- 
 standing why or wherefore. 
 
 Why do most people dislike toads or blind-worms ? 
 
 The mate, seeing the poor cook unfairly used, interfered on 
 his behalf, and tried to put an end to the fight. This only 
 made matters worse. The captain, hearing the noise, appeared 
 on deck, and a mutiny at once broke out. 
 
 The boatswain, who was at the head of the revolted crew, 
 snatching up a hatchet which happened to be there within his 
 reach, advanced and demanded a distribution of provisions. 
 
 The captain, for all answer, knocked him down with a 
 crow-bar ; at the same time he showed the crew the coast of 
 England, which was faintly visible at a distance, as well as a 
 man-of-war coming full sail towards them. 
 
 A day after this incident, the ship had landed her rebellious 
 crew at Cardiff. The boatswain was sent to jail, where, if he
 
 POBRATIM 363 
 
 had been a man of a philosophical turn of mind, he might have 
 meditated on the difference between right and might. 
 
 As for Vranic, he was but too glad to quit a ship where he 
 was hated by everybody, even by the captain, who had treated 
 him more like a galley slave than a fellow-creature. 
 
 After having earned a pittance as a porter for a short time, 
 he again embarked on board the Ave Maria, an Austrian ship 
 bound for Marseilles. This ship had had a remarkably pros- 
 perous voyage from the Levant. The captain had received a 
 handsome gratuity, and now a cargo had been taken at a very 
 high freight ; therefore, from the captain to the cabin-boy, 
 every man on board was merry and worked with a good will. 
 
 Although the weather was bleak, rainy and foggy, still the 
 wind blew steadily; moreover, the Ave Maria was a good ship, 
 and a fast sailer, withal she laboured under a great dis- 
 advantage, that of being overladen, and was, consequently, 
 always shipping heavy seas. 
 
 On leaving Cardiff, the captain found that two of the sailors, 
 who had been indulging in excesses of every kind whilst on 
 shore, were in a bad state of health. A third sickened a few 
 days afterwards, and for a long time all three were quite unfit 
 for work. Still, the ship managed to reach Marseilles without 
 any mishap. 
 
 The cargo was unloaded, a fresh one was taken on board ; 
 the men received medical assistance, and seemed to be recover- 
 ing. On leaving Marseilles, matters went from bad to worse ; 
 the captain, his mate, and two other sailors fell ill. 
 
 " It seems," said the captain, " as if someone has the gift of the 
 evil eye, for, since we left England, ill-luck follows in our wake." 
 
 The crew was, therefore, greatly diminished, for the three 
 men, who had been recovering, were now, on account of 
 improper food and overwork, quite ill again. 
 
 On leaving Marseilles they met with heavy gales and baffling 
 squalls of wind ; the ship began to pitch heavily, then to labour 
 and strain in such a way that, overladen as she was, the 
 pestilence-stricken crew could hardly manage her. For three 
 days the wind blew with such violence that two men had to 
 be constantly kept at the helm. Moreover, she shipped so 
 many seas that hands had to be always at the pumps. The 
 very first day the waves had washed away the coops ; then, 
 at last, the jib-boom and the bowsprit shrouds had been broken 
 loose and torn away by the grasp of the storm.
 
 364 POBRATIM 
 
 At last the storm subsided, and then the captain ascertained 
 that the ship had sustained such damage as to render her 
 unsafe. In such a predicament, with the crew all ailing, 
 the captain deemed it necessary to go back to Marseilles for 
 repairs. 
 
 After a short stay there, the Ave Maria set sail again for 
 Palermo, where she arrived without further mishap ; only the 
 sick sailors, having had to work hard during the storm, were 
 rather worse than better. On leaving Palermo two other men 
 of the crew had to be put on the sick-list, so that by the 
 time they reached the Adriatic the ship was not much better 
 than a pestiferous floating hospital. In fact, the only ones 
 who had escaped the loathsome contagion were Vranic and 
 the two boys, and they had to do the work of the whole 
 crew. 
 
 It was fortunate that, notwithstanding the stormy season of 
 the year, the weather kept steadily fair, for, in case of a hurri- 
 cane, the crew would have been almost helpless. At last land 
 was within sight ; the hills of Istria were seen, towards evening, 
 as a faint greyish line on the dark grey sky. The captain and 
 the men heaved a sigh of relief; that very night they would 
 cast anchor in the port of Trieste. There some had their 
 homes ; all, at least, had relations or friends. Vranic alone 
 hoped to meet no one he knew. 
 
 " That evening they made a hearty meal, for, as their pro- 
 visions had slightly begun to fall short, they had scarcely 
 satisfied their hunger for several days ; but now — almost 
 within sight of the welcoming, flashing rays of the Trieste 
 lighthouse — they could, indeed, be somewhat prodigal. 
 
 The sirocco, which had accompanied them all the way from 
 Palermo, now fell all at once, just as they had reached the 
 neighbourhood of Cape Salvore. That sudden quietness boded 
 nothing good. Soon, the captain perceived that the wind was 
 shifting in the Gulf of Trieste. By certain well-known signs, 
 he argued that the north-easterly wind was rising ; and soon 
 afterwards, a fierce bora, the scourge of all the neighbourhood, 
 began to blow. 
 
 Orders were at once given to reef the topsails ; then they 
 began to tack about, so as to come to an anchorage in the 
 roads of Trieste as soon as possible. 
 
 With the want of hands, the work proceeded very slowly 
 and clumsily. Night came on — dark, dismal night — amidst
 
 POBRA TIM 365 
 
 a howling wind and raging billows dashing furiously against 
 the little ship. It was a comfort on the next morning to see 
 the white houses and the naked hills of Trieste ; for they were 
 not far from the port. Every means was tried to get near the 
 land without being dashed against it and stranded, or split 
 against the rocks ; but the fierce wind baffled all their efforts. 
 And the whole of the day was passed in uselessly tacking 
 about and ever being driven farther off in the offing. Still, late 
 in the afternoon, they managed to get nearer the port, and at 
 sunset both anchors were dropped, not far from the jetty ; 
 still, the violence of the wind was such that all communication 
 with the land was rendered impossible. That evening the 
 last provisions were eaten, for they had spent the whole day 
 fasting. The strength of the gale increased with the night. 
 More chain was then added ; but still the anchors began to 
 come home. By degrees, all the chains were paid out ; and, 
 nevertheless, the ship was drifting. In so doing, she struck 
 her helm against a buoy. The shock caused one of the chains, 
 which was old and rusty, to snap. Aiter that, the Ave Maria 
 was driven back bodily towards the coasts of Istria, till finding, 
 at last, a better bottom, the anchor held and the ship was 
 stopped at about a mile from Punta Grossa, not far from Capo 
 d'Istria. There was no moon; the sky was overcast; the dark- 
 ness all around was oppressive. The huge surges, dashing 
 against the bows and the forecastle, washed away everything 
 on deck. The boats themselves were rendered unserviceable. 
 The thermometer had fallen eighteen degrees in two days, and 
 the keen, sharp wind blowing rendered the cold most intense. 
 A fringe of icicles was hanging down from the sides of the 
 ship, the spray froze on the tackle, and rendered the ropes 
 as hard as iron cables. 
 
 Then the ship sprung a leak, and the pumps had to be 
 worked to prevent her from sinking. To keep the men alive, 
 the captain opened a pipe of Marsala which had been destined 
 for the shippers. That night, which seemed everlasting, finally 
 wore away, dawn came, and the signal of distress was hoisted ; 
 a ship passed at no great distance, but took no notice of them. 
 Anyhow, help could be expected from Trieste ; the coastguards 
 must have seen them struggling against the storm. That day 
 the wind increased ; not a ship, not a sailing-boat was to be 
 seen in the offing ; what a long, dreary day of baffled hope that 
 was. When evening came on, the fasting crew, now completely
 
 366 POBRA TIM 
 
 fagged out, began to lose courage, and yet they were but a few 
 miles from the coast. That night Vranic had a dreadful vision. 
 When he took his place at the pump, opposite him, at the other 
 handle, stood the vampire grinning at him, with the horrible 
 gash in his cheek. That gruesome sight was too dreadful to be 
 borne ; he felt his arms getting stiff, and he fell fainting on the 
 deck. He only recovered his senses when a huge wave came 
 breaking against the deck and almost washed him overboard. 
 
 In the morning the wind began to abate ; but now all the 
 sailors were not only thoroughly exhausted, but all more or 
 less in a state of intoxication. The pumps could hardly be 
 worked any more ; even Vranic, the boys and the captain, who 
 had worked to the last, hoping to save their lives, were obliged 
 to leave the vessel to sink. 
 
 The Ave Maria was going down rapidly, and now, even if the 
 men could have worked, it was impossible to think of saving 
 her ; she was to be the prey of the waves. As for help from 
 Trieste, it was useless looking out for it. Still, the titled gentle- 
 men, in their warm and cosy offices of the See-Behurde, which 
 fronted the harbour, had seen the ship fighting against the wind 
 and the waves. They knew, or, at least, ought to have known, 
 of her distress ; but it was carnival time, and their thoughts 
 were surely not with the ships at sea. 
 
 At last, at eight o'clock, a ship was seen, and signals of 
 distress were made. The ship answered, and began tacking 
 about and trying to come near the sinking craft. When within 
 reach of hearing, the whole crew of the Ave Maria summoned 
 up all their strength and shouted that they were starving.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE " GIUSTIZIA DI DIO 
 
 Since his departure, Milenko had never received any letters 
 from his parents, for, in those times of sailing-ships, captains 
 got news from home casually, by means of such fellow-country- 
 men as they chanced to meet, rather than through the post. 
 Lately they had happened to come across a Ragusian ship at 
 Brindisi, but, as this ship had left Budua only a short time 
 after Milenko himself had sailed, all the information the 
 captain could give was rather stale. As for Vranic, nothing 
 had been heard of him these many months. 
 
 Peric (the youth sailing with Milenko) heard, however, that 
 the forebodings he had had concerning his brother were but 
 too well founded ; the poor boy had been killed while taking 
 care of his father's horse. Still, the man who told him the 
 news did not know, or had partly forgotten, all the details of 
 the dreadful accident, for all he remembered was that the 
 poor child had been brought home to his mother a mangled, 
 bleeding corpse. 
 
 Milenko then seemed again to see the vision he had witnessed 
 within the waters, and he could thus relate to the poor boy all 
 the particulars of the tragic event. 
 
 Poor Peric cried bitterly, thinking of the poor boy he had 
 been so fond of, and whom he would never see again ; then, 
 having somewhat recovered from his grief : 
 
 "It is very strange," said he, "that, on the very night on 
 which you saw my brother dragged by the horse, I heard a 
 voice whispering in my ear: 'Jurye is dead!' and then I 
 fancied that the wind whistling in the rigging repeated : 'Jurye 
 is dead ! ' and that same phrase was afterwards lisped by the 
 rushing waters. Just then, to crown it all, I looked within 
 the palm of my hand — why, I really do not know ; but that, as 
 you are aware, brings about the death of the person we love 
 most. At that same moment a cold shivering came over me,
 
 368 POBRATIM 
 
 and I felt sure that my poor brother was dead. All this is very 
 strange, is it not ? " 
 
 " Not so very strange, either," replied Milenko ; "the saints 
 allow us to have an inkling of what is to happen, so that when 
 misfortune does come, we are not crushed by it." 
 
 " Oh I we all knew that one of our family would die during 
 the year ; only, as I was going to sea, I thought that I might 
 be the one who " 
 
 " How did you know ? " asked Milenko. 
 
 " Because, when our grandmother died, her left eye remained 
 open ; and, although they tried to shut it, still, after a while, 
 the lids parted again, and that, you well know, is a sure sign 
 that someone of the house would follow her during the year." 
 
 The youth remained thoughtful for a little while, and then 
 he added : 
 
 " I wonder how my poor mother is, now that she has lost 
 both her sons." 
 
 " We shall soon have news from home, for, if the weather 
 does not change, to-morrow we shall be in Trieste, where 
 letters are surely awaiting us." 
 
 " Do you ever have voices whispering in your ears ? " asked 
 Peric. 
 
 " No, never ; do you ? " 
 
 " Very often, especially when I keep very still and try to 
 think of nothing at all, just as if I were not my own self, but 
 someone else." 
 
 " Try and see if you can hear a voice now." 
 
 The youth remained for some time perfectly still, looking as 
 if he were going off into a trance ; when he came to himself 
 again : 
 
 " I did hear a voice," said he. 
 
 " What did it say ? " 
 
 " That to-morrow you will meet the man you have been 
 looking for." 
 
 " Nothing else ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Is it not imagination ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! besides, poets often hear the voice of the moon, 
 who tells them all the stories they write in their books." 
 
 " Do they ? " quoth Milenko, smiling. 
 
 "Yes; do you not know the story of 'The Snowdrop,' that 
 Igo Kas heard whilst he was seated by a newly dug-grave ? "
 
 POBRA TIM 36g 
 
 " No, I never heard it." 
 " Then I'll read it to you, if you like." 
 
 Milenko having nothing better to do, listened attentively to 
 the youth's tale. 
 
 THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 A SLAV STORY. 
 
 The last feathery flakes of snow, fallen in the night, had 
 not yet melted away, when the first snowdrop, which had 
 sprung up in the dark, glinted at the dawning sun. A drop 
 of dew, glistening on the edge of its half-opened leaves, looked 
 like a sparkling tear. That dainty little flower, as white as 
 the surrounding snow, had sprouted up beside a newly-dug 
 grave. As I stooped down to pick the little snowdrop, I 
 saw the words inscribed on the white marble slab, and then 
 sorrow's heavy hand was laid upon my heart. The name 
 was that of the Countess Anya Yarnova, a frail flower of early 
 spring, as spotless as the little snowdrop. 
 
 What had been the cause of her sudden death ? Was it 
 some secret sorrow ? Was it her love for that handsome 
 stranger whose flashing eyes revealed the hunger of his heart ? 
 
 At gloaming I was again beside the newly-opened grave. 
 The sun had set, the birds in the bushes were hushed ; the 
 breeze, that before seemed to be the mild breath of spring, 
 began to blow in fitful, cold blasts. 
 
 The round disc of the moon now rose beyond the verge 
 of the horizon, and its mild, amber light fell upon the marble 
 monument of the Yarnova family, almost hidden under a mass 
 of white roses, camellias and daffodils, made up in huge 
 wreaths. 
 
 Mute and motionless, I sat for some time musing by the 
 tomb ; then at last, looking up at 
 
 I said 
 
 " That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, 
 Whom mortals call the Moon," 
 
 " Tell me, Moon, thou pale and grey 
 Pilgrim of Heaven's homeless way," 
 
 didst thou know young Countess Yarnova, so full of life a few 
 days ago, and now lying there in the cold bosom of the earth ? 
 Tell me what bitter and unbearable grief broke that young 
 heart ; speak to me, and I shall listen to thy words as to the 
 
 24
 
 370 POBRATIM 
 
 voice of my mother, when, in the evening, she whispered 
 weird tales to me while putting me to sleep. 
 
 A loud moan seemed to arise from the tomb, and then I 
 heard a voice as silvery sweet as the music of the spheres, lisp 
 softly in my ear : — 
 
 Passing by the Yarnova Castle three days ago, I peeped 
 within its casements, and, in a dimly-lighted hall, I saw 
 Countess Yadviga, who had just returned from Paris. She 
 wore a black velvet dress, and her head was muffled in a 
 lace mantilla ; although her features twitched and she was 
 sad and careworn, still she looked almost as young and 
 even handsomer than her fair daughter. 
 
 Presently, as she sat in the dark room, the door was 
 opened ; a page stepped in, drew aside the gilt morocco 
 portiere emblazoned with the Yarnova arms, and ushered 
 in the handsome stranger, Aleksij Orsinski. 
 
 The Baron looked round the dimly-lighted room for a 
 while. At last he perceived the figure of the Countess as 
 she sat in the shadow of the huge fire-place ; then he went 
 up to her and bowed. 
 
 " Thank you, Countess Yarnova, for snatching yourself 
 away from beautiful Paris and coming in this dismal place." 
 
 The figure in the high-backed arm-chair bowed slightly, 
 and without uttering a single word, motioned the stranger to 
 a seat at a short distance. The Baron sat down. 
 
 " Thank you especially for at last giving your consent to 
 my marriage with the beautiful Anya." 
 
 The Baron waited for a reply, but as none came, he went 
 on : 
 
 " Although her guardian hinted that Anya was somewhat 
 too young for me, still I know she loves me ; and as for 
 myself, I swear that henceforth the aim of my life will be 
 that of making her happy." 
 
 The Baron, though sixteen years older than his childlike 
 bride, was himself barely thirty ; he was, moreover, a most 
 handsome man — tall, stalwart, with dark flashing eyes, a 
 long flowing moustache, a mass of black hair, and a re- 
 markably youthful appearance. He waited again a little 
 while for an answer, but the mother did not speak. 
 
 The large and lofty hall in which they were, with its 
 carved stalls jutting out of the wainscot, looked far more
 
 POBRATIM 371 
 
 like a church than a habitable room ; the few fantastic oil 
 lamps seemed like stars shining in the darkness, while the 
 mellow light of the moon, pouring in from the mullioned 
 windows, fell on the Baron's manly figure, and left the 
 Countess in the dark. 
 
 As no answer came, the stranger, at a loss what to say, re- 
 peated his own words : 
 
 " Yes, all my days will be devoted to the happiness of our 
 child." 
 
 " Our child ? " said the Countess at last, with a slight tremor 
 in her voice. 
 
 The Baron started like a man roused in the midst of a 
 dream. 
 
 " Your daughter I mean, Countess." 
 
 Seized by a strange feeling of oppression, which he was 
 unable to control, the Baron, in his endeavour to overcome 
 it, began to relate to the mother how he had met Anya by 
 chance, how he had fallen in love with her the very moment 
 he had seen her, how from that day she had engrossed all his 
 thoughts, for, from their first meeting, her image had haunted 
 him day and night. 
 
 " In fact," added he, " it was the first time I had loved, the 
 very first." 
 
 " The first ? " echoed the voice in the dark. 
 
 The strong man trembled like an aspen leaf. Those two 
 words coming from that dark, motionless figure, sitting at some 
 distance, seemed to be a voice from the tomb, an echo from the 
 past ; that past which never buries its dead. To get over his 
 increasing nervousness the Baron began to speak with greater 
 volubility : 
 
 " In my early youth, or rather in my childhood I should 
 say," added he, " I did love once " 
 
 " Once ? " repeated the voice. 
 
 The Baron started again and stopped. Was it Anya's 
 mother who spoke, or was there an echo in that room ? Still, 
 he went on : 
 
 "Yes, once I loved, or, at least, thought myself in love." 
 
 " Thought ? " added the voice. 
 
 That repetition was getting unbearable ; anyhow, he tried 
 not to heed it. 
 
 " Well, Countess, it was only a childish fancy, a boy's in- 
 fatuation ; at sixteen, I was spoony on a girl two years younger 
 
 24 — 2
 
 372 POBRATIM 
 
 than myself, just about the a.^e mj' Anj'a is now. Fate parted 
 us ; I grieved a while ; but, since I saw your daughter, I under- 
 stood that I had never loved before, no, never ! " 
 
 " Never before — no, never ! " uttered the woman in the dark. 
 
 The Baron almost started to his feet ; that voice so silvery 
 clear, so mournfully sweet, actually seemed to come from the 
 far-off regions from where the dead do not return. After a 
 short silence, only interrupted by two sighs, he went on : 
 
 " There were, of course, other loves between the first 
 and the last — swift, evanescent shadows, leaving no traces 
 behind them. And now that I have made a full confession 
 of my sins. Countess, can I not see my Anya ? " 
 
 " Your Anya ? " 
 
 This was carrying a joke rather too far. 
 
 " Well, my fianc6e ? " said he, rather abruptly. 
 
 " No, Aleksij Orsinski, not yet. You have spoken, and I 
 have listened to you ; it is my turn to speak. I, too, have 
 something to say about Anya's father." 
 
 The Baron had always been considered as a brave man, 
 but now either the darkness oppressed him, or the past arose 
 in front of him threateningly, or else the strange and almost 
 weird behaviour of his future mother-in-law awed him ; but, 
 somehow or other, he had never felt so uncomfortable before. 
 Not only a disagreeable feeling of creepiness had come over 
 him, but even a slight perspiration had gathered on his brow. 
 He almost fancied that, instead of a woman, a ghost was 
 sitting there in front of him echoing his words. Who was 
 that ghost ? Perhaps, he would not — probably, he dared not 
 recognise it. He tried, however, to shake off his nervous- 
 ness, and said, with forced lightness : 
 
 " I have had the honour of knowing Count Yarnova per- 
 sonally ; he was somewhat eccentric, it is true ; still, a more 
 honourable man never " 
 
 " He was simply mad," interrupted the Countess ; " anyhow, 
 it is not of Count Yarnova, but of Anya's father of whom I 
 wish to speak." Then, after a slight pause, as if nerving 
 herself to the painful task, the woman in the dark added : 
 " For you must know that not a drop of the Count's blood 
 flows in my daughter's veins." 
 
 There was another awkward pause ; Aleksij 's heart began 
 to beat much faster, the perspiration was gathering on his 
 brow in much bigger drops.
 
 POBRATIM 373 
 
 " Count Yarnova was not your daughter's father, you say ? " 
 He would have liked to add : " Who was, then ? " but he 
 durst not. 
 
 " No, Aleksij Orsinski, he was not." 
 
 A feeling of sickness came over the Baron ; he hardly knew 
 whether he was awake, or asleep and dreaming. Who was 
 that woman in the dark ? 
 
 The Countess, after a while, resumed her story : " I was 
 born in St. Petersburg, of a wealthy and honourable, but 
 not of a noble family. I, too, was but a child when I fell 
 in love, deeply in love, with a neighbour's son. Unlike yours, 
 Baron, and I suppose all men's, a woman's first love is the 
 only real one. I was then somewhat younger than my daughter 
 now is, for I had barely reached my thirteenth year, and as 
 for my lover, he was fifteen. We often met, unknown to our 
 parents, in our garden ; I saw no harm in it — I was too young, 
 too guileless, not to trust him " 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 "And he?" asked the Baron, as if called upon to say 
 something. 
 
 " He, like Romeo, whispered vows of love, of eternal fidelity. 
 He believed in his vows just then, as you did, Aleksij Orsinski ; 
 for I daresay that with you, as with all men, the last love 
 is the only true one." 
 
 " Then ? " asked the Baron. 
 
 " Once we stepped out of the garden together ; a carriage 
 was waiting for us; we drove to a lonely chapel not far from 
 our house ; a priest there blessed us and made us man and 
 wife. Our marriage, however, was to be kept a secret till 
 we grew older, or, at least, till my husband was master of 
 his actions, for he knew that his parents would never consent 
 to our union." 
 
 There was another pause ; but now the Baron could not 
 trust himself to speak, his teeth were almost chattering as 
 if with intense cold. 
 
 "A time of sickness and sorrow reigned over our country; 
 the people were dying by hundreds and by thousands. The 
 plague was raging in St. Petersburg. My husband's family 
 were the first to flee from the contagion. We remained. The 
 scourge had just abated, when, to my horror and dismay, I 
 understood that I should in a few months become a mother. 
 I wrote to my husband, but I received no answer; still, I
 
 374 POBRATIM 
 
 knew he was alive and in good health. I wrote again, but 
 with no better success. The day came when, at last, I had 
 to disclose my terrible secret to my parents." 
 
 The Countess stopped, passed her hands over her brow as 
 if to drive away the remembrance of those dreadful days. 
 
 " It is useless to try and relate their anger and my shame. 
 My parents would not believe in my marriage ; besides, the 
 priest that had married us, even the witnesses, had all been 
 swept away by that weird scavenger, the plague. I had no 
 paper, no certificate, not even a ring to show that I was 
 married. Contumely was not enough ; I was not only treated 
 by my parents with pitiless scorn, but I was, moreover, turned 
 out of their house. When our own parents shut their doors 
 against us, is it a wonder if the world is ruthless ? 
 
 " What was I to do ? where was I to go ? With the few 
 roubles I had I could not travel very far or live very long. 
 I wandered to the castle where my husband was living ; I 
 asked for him, but I was told that he was ill." 
 
 " But he was ill," said the Baron, " was he not ? " 
 
 " Perhaps his watery love had already flowed away, and 
 he had given orders not to receive me if I should present 
 myself. For a moment I stood rooted on the doorstep, be- 
 wildered, not knowing what to do; then I asked to see his 
 mother. This was only exposing myself to one humiliation 
 more. She came out in the hall ; there she called me bitter 
 names, and when I told her that I had not a bed whereon 
 to lie that night, she replied that the Neva was always an 
 available bed for girls like me ; then she ordered her servants 
 to cast me out. 
 
 "Houseless, homeless, almost penniless; my husband's 
 mother was right — the Neva was the only place where I 
 could find rest. In its fast-fleeting waters I might indeed 
 find shelter. 
 
 " With my thoughts all of suicide I directed myself towards 
 the open country, hoping soon to reach the banks of the 
 broad river, for I was not only tired out, but weak and faint 
 for want of food. My legs at last began to give way ; weary, 
 disheartened, I sank down by the roadside and began to sob 
 aloud. All at once I heard a creaking noise of wheels, the 
 tramp of horses, and merry human voices singing in chorus. 
 As I lifted up my head I saw two carts passing, wherein 
 a band of gipsies were all huddled together. Seeing my grief
 
 POBRATIM 375 
 
 and hearing my sobs, the driver stopped ; a number of boys 
 and young men, girls and women jumped, crawled or 
 scrambled down from the carts, as crabs do out of a basket; 
 then they all crowded around me to find out what had be- 
 fallen me. I would not answer their questions, nor could I 
 have done so even if I had wanted. I was almost too faint 
 to speak. An elderly woman, the chief's wife, pushed all the 
 others aside, came up to me, took my hand and examined 
 it carefully ; then she began to speak in a language I did 
 not understand. 
 
 " ' Poor child ! ' said she at last, patting my hair and kissing 
 me on my eyes ; ' you are indeed in trouble ; still, bright days 
 are in store for you ; take courage, cheer up, live, for you 
 will soon be a grand lady, and then you will trample over 
 all your enemies — yes, over every one of them. You have 
 no home,' said she, as if answering my own thoughts ; ' What 
 does it matter ? Have we a home ? Have the little birds that 
 nestle in the leafy boughs a home ? No, all the world is 
 their home. Come with us. You have no family ; well, you 
 will be our child.' 
 
 " Saying this she gave an order to the men around her, and 
 almost before I was aware of it, half-a-dozen brawny arms 
 lifted me tenderly and placed me on a heap of clothes in one 
 of the carts. Soon my protectress was by my side whispering 
 words of endearment in my ear ; and as for myself, weak 
 and starving, forlorn and dejected as I was, I cared very 
 little what became of me. 
 
 " The gipsy woman, who was versed in medicine, poured 
 me out some kind of cordial or sleeping draught and made 
 me drink it ; a few minutes afterwards a pleasant drowsiness 
 came over me, then I fell fast asleep. I only awoke some 
 hours later, and I found myself lying on a mattress in a tent. 
 I remained for some time bewildered, unable to understand 
 where and with whom I was ; still, when I came to my senses 
 the keen edge of my grief was blunted. The gipsy woman, 
 m}' protectress, kissed me in a fond, mother-like way ; then 
 she brought me a plate of food. 
 
 " ' Eat,' said she, ' grief has a much greater hold on an empty 
 stomach than on a satiated one.' 
 
 "I was young and hungry; the smell of the food was good; 
 I did not wait to be asked twice. I never remembered to have 
 tasted anything so delicious. It was not soup, but a kind of
 
 376 PODRA TIM 
 
 savoury stew, containing vegetables and meat — an olla-podrida 
 of ham, beef and poultry. After that, they offered me some 
 fragrant drink, which soon made me feel drowsy, and then sent 
 me off to sleep again. I woke early the next morning, when they 
 were about to start on their daily wanderings. With my head 
 still muddled with sleep, I was helped into the cart, and sat 
 down between my new friend and her husband. 
 
 "That life in the open air, the kindness and good-humour of 
 the people amongst whom I lived, soothed and quieted me. All 
 ideas of suicide vanished entirely from my mind. Self-murder 
 is an unknown thing amongst gipsies. Besides, my friend as- 
 sured me, again and again, that I should soon become a very 
 great lady, and then all my enemies would be at my mercy. 
 
 " ' But how shall I ever repay you for your kindness ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' The day will come when the hand of persecution will be 
 uplifted against us ; then you alone will protect us.' 
 
 " In the meanwhile I was treated like a queen by all of them. 
 Moreover, they were a wealthy band, possessing not only horses, 
 carts and tents, but also money. They might have lived com- 
 fortably in some town, or settled as farmers somewhere ; but 
 their life was by far too pleasant to give it up. Heedless, jovial, 
 contented people, their only care seemed to be where they were 
 to have their next meal. 
 
 " A few months afterwards, my daughter was born in a tent, 
 not far from Warsaw." 
 
 " She must have been a great comfort to you," quoth the 
 Baron, thinking he ought to say something appropriate. 
 
 " A comfort ? The unwished-for child of a man that had 
 blighted my life, a comfort ? No, indeed, Baron. In fact, I saw 
 very little of this daughter of mine ; a young gipsy nursed her 
 and took care of her. My own parents had taught me what love 
 was. My husband's mother — a grand lady — thought that the 
 Neva was the best cradle for her unborn grandchild. Besides, 
 other work was waiting for me than nursing and rearing Anya. 
 
 " Count Yarnova one day met our band of gipsies on the road, 
 and he stretched his ungloved hand to have his fate read and 
 explained. My friend — no ordinary fortune-teller — was well 
 versed in palmistry, and a most lucid thought-reader ; she told 
 him that before the year was out he would be a married man. 
 
 " ' In a few days,' added she, ' on Christmas Eve, you will see 
 your young bride in your own mirror ; you will see her again 
 after a few days, and she will tend upon you and cure you from
 
 POBRATIM 377 
 
 a fever when the doctor's help will be worse than useless. As 
 soon as you get well you will start on a journey ; then you will 
 stop for some days in two large towns, both of which begin 
 with the same letter ; there you will see again that beautiful 
 child you saw on Christmas Eve.' 
 
 " ' But when and where shall I meet her, not as a vision, but 
 as a real person ? ' 
 
 " The Baron wore on the forefinger of his right hand a kind 
 of magic ring, in which a little crystal ball was set. The gipsy 
 lifted the Baron's hand to her eyes and looked at the crystal 
 ball for a few seconds. 
 
 " ' It is spring,' said she ; 'the trees are in bloom, and Nature 
 wears her festive garb. In a splendid saloon, where all the 
 furniture is of gold and the walls are covered with rich silks, I 
 see a handsome young girl dressed in spotless white, holding a 
 guitar and singing ; behind her there is a mass of flowers ; 
 around her gentlemen and ladies are listening to the sound of 
 her sweet voice.' 
 
 " Count Yarnova was a Swedenborgian, and he not only 
 believed in the occult art, but had dabbled himself in magic, 
 until his rather weak mind was somewhat unhinged. He, of 
 course, did not doubt the truth of what the gipsy had foretold 
 him ; moreover, he was right, because everything happened 
 exactly as she had predicted. 
 
 " On Christmas Eve the Count was alone in his room sitting 
 at a little table reading, and glancing every now and then, first at 
 a clock, afterwards at a huge cheval-glass opposite the alcove. 
 All the servants of the house, except his valet^ — a young gipsy 
 of our band — had gone to Mass, according to the custom of the 
 place. At half-past eleven my friends accompanied me to the 
 Count's palace ; the valet opened the door noiselessly and led 
 me unseen, unheard, in the alcove. I was dressed in white and 
 shrouded in a mass of silvery veils. On the stroke of twelve I 
 appeared between the two draped columns which formed the 
 opening of the alcove ; the light hanging in the middle of the 
 room was streaming on me, and my image, reflected in the glass, 
 looked, in fact, like a vision. The Count, seeing it, heaved a deep 
 breath, started to his feet, drew back, stood still for an instant, 
 uttered an exclamation of surprise, then made a step towards 
 the looking-glass. At that moment the valet opened the door 
 as if in answer to his master's summons. The Count looked 
 round, thus giving me time to slip away ; when he glanced
 
 378 POBRA TIM 
 
 again at the mirror I had disappeared. Then the thought 
 came to him that the image he had seen within the glass was 
 only the reflection of some one standing in the alcove ; he 
 ordered the valet to look within the inner part of the room, 
 and when the servant man assured him that there was nobody, 
 he ventured to look in it himself. The valet swore that nobody 
 had come in the house, and by the time the servants returned 
 from midnight Mass I was already far away. 
 
 " The Count had not been well for some days, and the 
 shock he received upset his nerves in such a way that he 
 took to his bed with a kind of brain fever. I attended him 
 during his illness whilst he was delirious, and when he 
 recovered he had a slight remembrance of me, just as of a 
 vision we happen to see in a dream. He asked if a young 
 girl had not tended him during his illness ; his valet and 
 the other servants told him that a mysterious stranger had 
 come to take care of him, and that she had soothed him 
 much more by placing her hand upon his brow, than all 
 the doctor's stuff had done ; still, no one had ever seen her 
 before, or knew where she had come from. 
 
 " As soon as the Count was strong enough to travel, he 
 decided to go and visit some of the large towns of Europe, 
 thus hoping to find me. 
 
 " The vigilant eye of the police had long suspected Yarnova 
 of being an agitator; some letters addressed to him, and some 
 of his own writings on occult lore, had been strangely mis- 
 interpreted, and from that time a constant watch had been 
 held over him. No sooner had he started than information 
 was sent to the police that he was conspiring against the 
 Government, and thus I managed to be sent after him and 
 watch over him. Money, passports, and letters of introduction 
 to the ambassadors were handed to me. 
 
 " Vienna was one of the towns where he stopped for a few 
 days. A follower of Cagliostro's was at that time showing 
 there the phantoms of the living, and those of the dead — not 
 for money, of course, but for any slight donation the visitors 
 were pleased to give. The gipsy, who accompanied Yarnova 
 as valet, came to mform me that the Count intended to go to 
 this spiritualistic seance. The medium was also acquainted 
 of the fact, and for a slight consideration I was allowed to 
 appear before the public as my own materialised spirit. How 
 most of the ghosts were shown to the public, I cannot tell ;
 
 POBRATIM 379 
 
 I only know that I appeared on a dimly-lighted stage, behind 
 a thick gauze curtain, wrapped up in a cloud of tulle, whilst 
 harps and viols were playing some weird funereal dirges. 
 The people — huddled all together in a dark corner — saw, I 
 fancy, nothing but vague, dim forms passing or floating by; 
 but they were so anxious to be deceived that they would 
 have taken the wizard at his word, even if he had shown 
 them an ape and told them it was their grandmother. 
 
 " When Yarnova saw me, he got so excited that it was with 
 the greatest difficulty that he could be kept quiet. 
 
 " On the morrow the Count started for Venice, this being the 
 nearest town the name of which began with the same letter 
 as Vienna. We got there on the last days of the Carnival ; an 
 excellent time for the purpose I had in hand, as the whole 
 town seemed to have gone stark mad. The Piazza San Marco 
 was like a vast pandemonium, where dominoes of every hue 
 glided about, and masks of every kind walked, ran and 
 capered, or pushed their way through the dense crowd, chat- 
 tering, laughing, shouting. Bands of music were playing in 
 front of several coffee-houses, people were blowing horns ; 
 in fact, the uproar was deafening. Dressed up as a Russian 
 gipsy, and masked, I met the Count on the square, and I told 
 him all that had happened to him from the day he had met 
 the gipsies on the road. I only managed to escape from him 
 when he was stopped by a wizard — his own valet — who told 
 him he would see again that evening, at the masked ball of 
 the Venice theatre, the beautiful girl whose vision he had 
 seen in his own castle on Christmas Eve. 
 
 The Count, of course, went to the masked ball, followed by 
 his valet and myself, both in dominoes. Seeing a box empty, 
 I went in it, remained rather in the background, took off my 
 hood and appeared in the white veils, as he had already seen 
 me twice. As soon as I appeared, the valet, who was stand- 
 ing behind his master, laid his hand on the Count's shoulder 
 and whispered to him : ' Yarnova, look at that lady in that 
 box on the second tier — the third from the stage.' The Count 
 saw me, uttered an exclamation of surprise, turned round to 
 find out who had spoken to him ; but the black domino had 
 slipped away amongst the crowd. I remained in the same 
 position for a few moments, then I put on my domino and 
 mask and left the box. I met the Count coming up, but, in 
 the crowd, he, of course, did not notice me.
 
 38p POBRATIM 
 
 "A few days afterwards, we left Venice; even before the 
 Carnival was quite over." 
 
 " I suppose you were sorry to leave that beautiful town 
 of pleasure ? " said the Baron. 
 
 " Very sorry indeed ; still, there was something to ine 
 sweeter than pleasure, young as I was." 
 
 " What was it. Countess ? " 
 
 " Revenge, so sweet to all Slavs." 
 
 "And you revenged yourself?" 
 
 " I have bided my time, Baron ; every knot comes to the 
 comb, they say." 
 
 " Did they all come ? " 
 
 " Sooner or later, all, to the very last ; some of my enemies 
 even rotted in the mines of Siberia " 
 
 The Baron shivered, thinking of his father. 
 
 " Others " The Countess, for a moment, seemed to 
 
 be thinking of the past. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "But it is my own story I am telling you, not theirs. 
 Count Yarnova and I reached Paris almost at the same 
 time. On my arrival, I presented myself at the Russian 
 Embassy. As the Ambassadress happened to be looking 
 for a companion or reader, the place was offered to me ; 
 I accepted it most willingly. A few days afterwards, I was 
 informed by the gipsy, that the Count was to call on the 
 Ambrssadress the next day. I remembered the prediction; 
 I did my best to bring it about. The room was exactly like 
 the one described by my friend the gipsy; the furniture was 
 gilt, the walls were covered over with old damask ; as the 
 Ambassadress was fond of flowers, the room looked like a 
 hot-house. I had put on the same white dress in which 
 he had already seen me three times, and knowing the very 
 moment the Count would come, I spoke of Russian peasant 
 songs; I mentioned the one I was to sing, and being re- 
 quested to sing it, I did so. Before I ended it, the door was 
 opened and Count Yarnova was announced. 
 
 " I do not know whether his could be called love at first 
 sight, but surely everybody in the room thought that his 
 sudden passion for me had almost deprived him of his reason. 
 
 " The Count called on the morrow, and asked if I could 
 receive him ; I did so, and he at once confessed his love for 
 me. He told me that although he was old enough to be my
 
 POBRA TIM 381 
 
 father, still, he felt sure I should in time be fond of him, for 
 marriages being made in heaven, I was ordained to be his wife. 
 
 " I tried to explain the plight in which I found myself, but 
 he interrupted me at once, telling me that he knew everything. 
 
 " ' I am aware that you have been forsaken by a cruel-hearted 
 man,' said he, ' but henceforth I shall be everything to you.' 
 
 " I summoned my courage, I spoke to him of my child. 
 
 " ' The child that was born on Christmas night ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I answered below my breath. 
 
 " ' It is my own spiritual child,' said he. 
 
 " I looked at him astonished. 
 
 " ' I know all about it,' he continued. ' On that night I saw 
 you in a vision, just as it had been predicted to me ; I saw you 
 just as I see you now. That very night I had, moreover, a 
 
 vision. I was married to you, and but never mind about 
 
 that dream. I have seen you after that — first in this magic 
 ring ; then I saw you materialised at Vienna, and again in 
 Venice. Of course, it was not you, but your double, for you 
 were at that time here in Paris, quite unconscious, quietly 
 asleep, having, perhaps, a dream of what your other self was 
 seeing.' 
 
 "Then he began to speak of materialisation, of the influence 
 of planets, in fact, of many chaotic and uninteresting things to 
 which I, apparently at least, listened with the greatest atten- 
 tion. I was well repaid for my trouble, for a few week's after- 
 wards we were married." 
 
 " And your former husband ? " 
 
 " Was dead to me." 
 
 " Did not the Government give you any trouble ? " 
 
 " The Russian Government knew that Countess Yarnova 
 could be of great help." 
 
 " And was she ? " 
 
 " Even more than had been expected." 
 
 The Countess paused a moment. " It happened that my 
 enemies, Aleksij Orsinski, were also those of my country, so I 
 crushed them." 
 
 The Baron trembled perceptibly. 
 
 " But that is their own tale, not mine. We came back 
 to Russia, my husband worshipping me as a superhuman 
 creature." 
 
 " And you loved him ? " 
 
 " I loved but once."
 
 382 POBRATIM 
 
 "Then you still loved the man who— 
 
 " Love either flows away like water, or it rankles in a 
 festering heart and changes into gall. At St. Petersburg 
 I saw again my parents. Their curse had fallen on their 
 own heads ; fortune's wheel had turned — their wealth was 
 all gone — they were paupers. How despicable people are 
 who, having once been rich, cannot get reconciled to the 
 idea of being poor ! How mean all their little makeshifts 
 are 1 how cringing they get to be ! You can even make them 
 swallow any amount of dirt for a dinner you give them. 
 They are all loathsome parasites. I might have ignored my 
 parents — left them to their fate, or else helped them anony- 
 mously. I went to see them; it was so pleasant to heap 
 burning coals on their heads. I doled out a pittance to 
 them, received their thanks, allowed them to kiss my hands, 
 knowing how they cursed me within their hearts. Gratitude 
 is the bitterest of all virtues ; it sours the very milk of human 
 kindness." 
 
 The Countess laughed a harsh, bitter, shrill laugh, and 
 her guest wiped the perspiration from his forehead. 
 
 " I shall tell you all about them some other time, in the 
 long winter evenings when the wind howls outside and the 
 country is all covered with its pall of snow. It will be pleasant 
 to sit by the fire and tell you all these old family stories, Aleksij 
 Orsinski." 
 
 And the dark figure buried in the big arm-chair laughed 
 again in a mocking, discordant way. 
 
 " After some years the Baron died, and then I was left 
 sole mistress of all his wealth." 
 
 " And Anya ? " 
 
 " Why, I hardly ever saw her. She was brought up here, in 
 this dreary old castle, like a sleeping beauty ; you, like Prince 
 Charming, came to waken her up. You found her here by 
 chance, did you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, Countess ; I happened " 
 
 " Count Yarnova, Hkewise, found me by chance," said the 
 woman in the dark, jeeringly, and interrupting him. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked the Baron, breathing hard. 
 
 " I mean that the last knot has come to the comb." Aleksij 
 Orsinski covered his face with his hands. 
 
 "Perhaps, after all, " he thought, "this is nothing but a 
 hideous dream."
 
 POBRATIM 383 
 
 " Do you not find, Baron, that Anya, yoiiy Anya as you call 
 
 her, reminds you of another girl, the girl you " 
 
 " Countess, for mercy's sake, I can bear this no longer; who 
 are you ? " 
 
 The Baron, trembling, panting, sprang to his feet and went 
 up to the Countess. She thereupon threw off her mantilla, and 
 appeared in the bright light of the full moon, which was 
 streaming through the mullioned windows. 
 The Baron stretched out his arms. 
 
 " Jadviga!" he said, in a low, muffled tone; then he again 
 covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " And now, Aleksij Orsinski, now that my story is at an end," 
 said the Countess, in a jeering tone ; " now that, at last, you 
 have wakened from your day-dream, whom am I to call — Anya 
 your fiancee, or Anya your own daughter ? " 
 
 A low moan was the only answer. 
 
 " Speak, man, speak 1 " said the Countess, sneeringly. 
 
 Another moan was heard ; not from the Baron, but from 
 behind one of the thick Arras portieres. Then it moved, and 
 Anya appeared within the room. She advanced a few steps, 
 stretched out her arms, just as if she were walking in the dark; 
 then, at last, she sank senseless on the floor. The father ran 
 to her, caught her up in his arms, pressed her to his heart, 
 tried to bring her back from her fainting-fit, called her by the 
 most endearing names ; but, alas ! she was already beyond 
 hearing him. 
 
 "You have killed your daughter ! " cried Aleksij, beside him- 
 self with grief. 
 
 " I ? " said the Countess. 
 
 " Yes, and you have blasted my life ! " 
 
 " Have you not blasted mine ? " replied the Countess, 
 laughing, and yet looking as scared as a ghost. 
 
 The Baron was moaning over his daughter's lifeless body. 
 
 " You are happy, my Anya ; but what is to become of me ? " 
 
 " Aleksij, rest can always be found within the waters of the 
 Neva ; its bed is as soft as down, whilst the breeze blowing in 
 the sedges sings such a soft lullaby." 
 
 Orsinski looked up at his wife. 
 
 " I think you are right, Jadviga," said he. 
 
 " Oh ! I know I am," replied the Countess, bursting into a 
 loud, croaking, jarring fit of hysterical laughter. The Baron 
 shuddered, but the Countess laughed louder and ever louder,
 
 384 POBRATIM 
 
 until the lofty room resounded with that horrible, untimely 
 merriment. 
 
 And now, if you pass by the dreary and deserted old Yarnova 
 Castle, you will, perhaps, hear in the dead of the night those 
 dreadful, discordant peals of laughter, whilst the belated 
 peasant who passes by crosses himself devoutly on hearing that 
 sound of fiendish mirth. 
 
 The southerly wind which had accompanied the Giustizia di 
 Dio to Cape Salvore suddenly shifted, and a smacking north- 
 easterly breeze began to blow. The whole of that night was a 
 most stormy one ; still, the ship bravely weathered the gale. 
 At dawn the wind began to abate, still the sea was very heavy. 
 
 At about eight o'clock they perceived a ship, not only in dis- 
 tress, but sinking fast. Milenko at once gave orders to reef the 
 topsails and tack about, so as to be able to approach the 
 wreck, for the sea was by far too heavy to allow them to use 
 their boats. 
 
 When they managed to get near enough to hear the shouts 
 of the starving crew, they found out that the sinking ship was 
 the Ave Maria, an Austrian barque. After much manoeuvring 
 they got as close to the stern of the sinking ship as they 
 possibly could. Ropes were then thrown across, so that the 
 sailors might catch and tie them around their bodies and jump 
 into the sea. The weakest were first helped to leap overboard, 
 and then they were hauled into the Giustizia di Dio, where they 
 received all the help their state required. 
 
 Five men were thus saved, and then the two ships were 
 driven apart by the gale. A scene of despair at once ensued 
 on board the Ave Maria, which was sinking lower and lower. 
 By dint of tacking about, the Giustizia di Dio was once more 
 brought by the side of the wreck, and then the captain and 
 boatswain were saved ; one of the men, who was drunk, when 
 about to be tied, reeled back to the wine, which, apparently, 
 was sweeter to him than life itself. 
 
 Milenko, who had remained at the helm, now came to the 
 prow. It was just then that Vranic caught the rope that had 
 been flung to him, and tied it round his waist. He stood on 
 the stern and was about to leap into the foaming waves below. 
 Milenko, who perceived him, uttered a loud cry, almost a 
 raucous cry of joy, just as mews do as they pounce upon their 
 prey.
 
 POBRATIM 385 
 
 " Vranic at last ! " said he. 
 
 Vranic heard himself called ; but, when he recognised his 
 foe, it was too late to keep back — he had already sprung into 
 the sea. 
 
 Milenko had snatched the rope from the hands of the 
 sailor who had thrown it. His first impulse was to cut the 
 rope and leave his friend's murderer to the mercy of the 
 waves. 
 
 Vranic, who had disappeared for an instant within the abyss 
 of the waters, was seen again, struggling in the midst of the 
 whirling foam. He looked up, and saw one of the pobnitim 
 holding the rope. Milenko remained for a moment undecided 
 as to what he was to do. 
 
 " Let me help you to pull up," said the boatswain. 
 
 The young captain almost mechanically heaved up the rope, 
 and was astonished to find it so light. The rope came home ; 
 evidently it had got undone, for Vranic was presently seen 
 battling against the huge billows, trying to regain the sinking 
 ship. 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " Did the rope get loose ? " 
 
 " Why did he not hold on ? " 
 
 " Why does he not try to catch it ? " 
 
 " Look, he is swimming back towards the wreck." 
 
 "He must have cut the rope." 
 
 These were the many exclamations of the astonished sailors. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, he is guilty of his own blood," replied 
 Milenko, " for this is, after all, the justice of God." 
 
 In fact, as soon as Vranic saw that it was Milenko himself 
 who was holding the rope that was tied round his waist, he 
 pulled out the black dagger that he always carried about him, 
 and freed himself ; then he turned round and began to swim 
 back towards the Ave Maria. At the same time, a big wave 
 came rolling over him ; it upUfted and dashed him against 
 the sharp icicles hanging from the wrecked ship, and which 
 looked so many chevaux de frlse. He tried to catch hold, 
 to cling to the frozen ropes, but they sUpped from his grasp, 
 and the retreating surges carried him off and he disappeared 
 for ever. 
 
 The two vessels were parted once more, and Milenko, per- 
 ceiving that it was useless to remain there any longer and try 
 and save the three drunken sailors who had remained on 
 
 25
 
 386 POBRA TIM 
 
 board, thought it far more advisable to proceed on to Trieste 
 and send them help from there. 
 
 When the Gitisiizia di Dio reached Trieste, the storm had 
 abated, the wind had pone down, and the sea was almost calm. 
 Help was at once sent to the shipwrecked vessel, but, alas! all 
 that could be seen of the Ave Maria was the utmost tops of her 
 masts.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 MiLENKO had been most lucky in his voyages, and had 
 reaped a golden harvest. As steamers had not yet come 
 into any practical use, and the Adriatic trade was still a 
 most prosperous one, ship-owners and captains had a good 
 time of it. In fact, his share of the profits was such as to 
 enable him to buy the ship on his own account. Still, now 
 that the karvarina business was settled and Uros' death was 
 avenged, he did not care any more for a seafaring life ; and, 
 moreover, his heart was at Nona with the girl he loved. 
 
 The time he had been away had seemed to him everlastingly 
 long, and, besides, he had been all these months without any 
 news from his family. He was, therefore, overjoyed upon 
 reaching Trieste to find a whole packet awaiting him. 
 
 The very first letter that caught his sight was one in a 
 handwriting which, although familiar, he could not recognise. 
 Could it be from Ivanka ? Now that they were engaged, 
 she, perhaps, had written to him ; still, it hardly seemed 
 probable. Perhaps it was from Giulianic, for, indeed, it 
 was more of a man's than a woman's handwriting. Looking 
 at it closer, he thought, with a sigh, that if poor Uros were 
 alive, he would surely believe it came from him. At last 
 he tore the letter open. It began : 
 
 " Ljubi moj brati." 
 
 " Can it be possible," said Milenko to himself, "that Uros is 
 still alive ? " 
 
 He gave a glance at the signature ; there was no more doubt 
 about it, the writer was Uros himself. In his joy, he pressed 
 the letter to his lips; then he ran over its contents, which were 
 as follows : 
 
 " My BELOVED Brother, — You will, doubtless, be very much 
 surprised to get this letter from me, as I do not think any- 
 body has, as yet, written to you ; nor is it likely that you 
 
 25—2
 
 388 POBRA TIM 
 
 have met anyone from Budua giving you our news. There- 
 fore, as I think you believe me in my coffin, it will be just 
 like receiving a letter from beyond the grave. Anyhow, if 
 I am still alive, it is to you, my dear Milenko. that I owe 
 my life, nay, more than my life, my happiness. 
 
 " The day you went away I remained for several hours in a 
 fainting-fit, just like a dead man. My heart had ceased to beat, 
 my limbs had grown stiff and cold ; in fact, they say I was 
 exactlj' like a corpse. I think that, for a little while, I even 
 lost the use of all my senses. At last, when I came to myself, 
 I could neither feel, nor speak, nor move ; I could only hear. 
 I lived, as it were, rather out of my body than within it. I 
 heard weeping and wailing, and the prayers for the dead were 
 being said over me. My mother and Milena were kissing mj' 
 face and hands, and their tears trickled down on my cold lips 
 and eyelids. It was a moment of bitter anguish and madden- 
 ing terror. Should I lie stiff and stark, like a corpse, and allow 
 myself to be buried ? The idea was so dreadful that it quite 
 paralysed me. I again, for a little while, lost all conscious- 
 ness. Little by little I recovered my senses ; I could even open 
 mj' eyes ; I uttered a few faint words. In fact, I was alive. 
 From that moment I began to recover my strength. In less 
 than a fortnight I was able to rise from my bed. From that 
 day my mother's visits not only were shorter, but Milena 
 ceased to come. They told me that the monks had objected to 
 her presence. I was afraid this was an excuse, and, in fact, I 
 soon found out that she had been at the point of death, and, 
 as she was at our house now, my mother was taking care of 
 her. Her illness protracted my own, and my strength seemed 
 once more to pass away. But Milena returned to me, and soon 
 afterwards I was able to leave the convent. 
 
 " Can I describe my happiness to you, friend of my heart ? 
 You yourself will shortly be married to the girl you are fond of, 
 and then you will know all the bliss of loving and being loved. 
 
 " But enough of this, for you will say that either my illness 
 or my stay in the convent has made me maudlin, sentimental — 
 and, perhaps, you will not be quite wrong. 
 
 " Let me rather ask you, captain, how you have been faring, 
 and on what seas you have been tossing. Oh ! how I long to 
 hear from you, and to see you. I hope you will soon be back 
 amongst us, where a great happiness is in store for you ; but 
 more than that I cannot say.
 
 POBRA TIM 389 
 
 " I sincerely trust you have not met with my enemy, and that 
 your hands are not stained with blood. God has dealt merci- 
 fully towards me ; He has raised me, as it were, from the dead. 
 Let us leave that wretched wanderer to his fate. Moreover, the 
 first day I was able to leave my cell I walked, or rather I 
 should say I crawled, to church to hear Mass. It was on 
 Rose Sunday, which, as you know, is a week after Easter, and 
 the convent garden was in all its youthful beauty. The priest 
 recited the Scriptures for the day, and amongst the other 
 beautiful things that he read were these words, which seemed 
 addressed to me ; they were : ' Vengeance is mine, saith the 
 Lord.' Hearing them in church, I almost fancied it was God 
 Himself speaking ; and they made such an impression upon 
 me, that I swore to forego all thoughts of karvarina, feeling sure 
 that the Almighty will, sooner or later, keep the promise He 
 made to me. 
 
 " If I did not know you, my dear Milenko, I might imagine 
 you saying to yourself: 'His illness has crushed all manly 
 spirit out of him.' Still, I feel sure you will not say that of me. 
 
 " How often I have been thinking of you, especially the day 
 I left the convent ; and on my wedding-day my thoughts were 
 more with you than at home. 
 
 " Have your ventures been prosperous ? Anyhow, do not 
 invest more money in new ships, for our fathers have just 
 bought a very large schooner. It had been built for a ship- 
 owner, who, having laid out more money in his trade than he 
 could afford, was only too glad to dispose of it. The christening 
 will take place as soon as you come back. Of course, the name 
 chosen is The Pobratim. 
 
 " I do not write to you anything about your family, for your 
 father has written to you several times, although, by the letters 
 we have from you, none of them seem to have reached you 
 as yet. " Uros." 
 
 Milenko hastened to open his father's letters, and he found 
 there the " happiness which was in store for him," to which 
 Uros alluded, for Bellacic wrote : 
 
 " You will be surprised to hear that we have a new addition 
 to our circle of friends, a family you are well acquainted with. 
 I do not ask you to guess who these people are, for you would 
 never do so. Therefore, I shall tell you Giulianic has come 
 to settle in Budua. The country round Nona, which, as you
 
 390 
 
 POBRA TIM 
 
 know, is rather marshy and consequently unhealthy, never 
 agreed with any of them ; for reasons best known to themselves 
 they have chosen Budua as their residence. I had known 
 Giulianic years ago, and I was very glad to renew his ac- 
 quaintance ; your mother is greatly taken up with his daughter, 
 who seems to cUng to her as to a mother. It appears that 
 when Uros met them last, he played some practical kind of 
 joke upon them and rendered himself rather obnoxious ; but his 
 marriage has settled the matter to everybody's satisfaction, 
 especially to Ivanka's, for she and Milena are already great 
 friends. I need not tell you how much your mother longs to 
 have you back." 
 
 Milenko, after reading all his letters, could hardly master 
 his impatience any longer ; a feehng of home-sickness oppressed 
 him to such a degree that, in his longing, he almost felt tempted 
 to leave his ship and run away. But as ill-luck would have it 
 he could not find a cargo either for Cattaro or Budua ; there- 
 fore, having unloaded his ship, he bought a cargo of timber, 
 which then found a ready market everywhere, and sailed at 
 once for his native town. 
 
 " The north-easterly wind '11 just last all the way out of 
 the Adriatic," said Janovic, the new boatswain they had en- 
 gaged in Trieste, " and we'll get to Budua in three days, so 
 we'll have just time to unload and go to Cattaro for the feast 
 of San Trifone and the grand doings of the marinerezza, that 
 is, if the captain '11 give us leave." 
 
 "Oh, that'll be delightful!" replied Peric, "for I've not 
 seen it yet. What is it like ? " 
 
 " The feast of the marinerezza,"" said Janovic, sententiously, 
 " is more beautiful than any kind of pageantry I've seen ; 
 why, the carnival of Benetke " (Venice), "the procession of 
 Corpus Domini in Trst" (Trieste), " or the feast of the Ramazan, 
 at Carigrad " (Constantinople), " cannot be compared to it. So 
 it's useless my describing it to you; it's a thing you must see 
 for yourself." 
 
 Five days after their departure from Trieste, the Giustizia 
 di Dio was casting her anchor in the roads of Budua. Although 
 winter was not yet over, spring seemed already to have set in ; 
 the sky was of a fathomless blue, the sun was warm and of 
 an effulgent brightness, the brown almond-trees were covered 
 with white blossoms ; Nature had already put on her festive garb. 
 
 His two fathers, his brother of adoption, Giulianic, Danko
 
 POBRATIM 391 
 
 Kvekvic, and a host of friends, were waiting on the shore to 
 welcome him back. Then they accompanied him all in a body 
 to his house. His mother, Mara Bellacic and Milena were 
 waiting for him on the threshold. Presently, Giulianic went 
 to fetch his wife and daughter. Ivanka came trying to hide 
 her blushes ; nay, to appear indifferent and demure. In front 
 of so many people, Milenko himself felt awkward, and still 
 there was such a wistful, longing look of pent-up love in his 
 searching glances as he bashfully shook hands with her, that, 
 in her maidenly coyness, her eyelids drooped down, so that 
 their long dark lashes kissed her blushing cheeks. 
 
 That day seemed quite a festivity for the little town. The 
 pobratim had many friends ; and besides, all the persons who 
 had taken the awful oath of the karva tajstvo were anxious 
 to know if Captain Milenko had met Vranic during the many 
 months that he had been away ; therefore, Markovic's house 
 was, till late at night, always crowded with people. 
 
 When Milenko related to them how he had tried to save 
 Vranic, and how miserably the poor wretch had perished, 
 everybody crossed himself devoutly, and extolled the God of 
 the Orthodox faith as the true God of the karvarina. 
 
 A few days after Milenko's arrival, his father went to 
 Giulianic and asked him for Ivanka's hand. 
 
 " I am only too happy to give her to the man of her choice," 
 said Giulianic, " for although I had, indeed, accepted Uros for 
 my son-in-law, still I did so only in mistake. Not only was it 
 Milenko who first gallantly exposed his life to save us, but 
 Ivanka, as she confessed to her mother, fell in love with him 
 the very moment she awoke from her fainting-fit and found 
 herself in his arms. Of course, she ought never to have done 
 so, for no proper girl ought ever to fall in love but with the 
 man chosen by her parents ; still, young people are young 
 people all the world over, you know," said Giulianic, 
 apologisingly. 
 
 After that, the fathers discussed the dower, and the mothers 
 talked about the outfit, the kitchen utensils, and the furnishing 
 of the house. 
 
 Then followed a month of perfect bliss. During that time, 
 they went occasionally to look after the schooner, which was 
 being fitted up with far more luxury than sailing ships usually 
 were ; they visited their fields and their vineyards ; but most 
 of their time was spent in merry-making.
 
 392 POBRA TIM 
 
 One day they all went on a pilj^image to the Convent of 
 St. George, where they left rich gifts to the holy caloyers for 
 Uros' recovery ; another day they visited the famous sub- 
 terranean chapel of Pod-Maini, adorned with beautiful Byzan- 
 tine frescoes. They also showed Ivanka the tower where 
 Boskovic, the great magician, lived; but she, being a stranger, 
 had never heard of him ; and so they told her that he was an 
 astrologer who possessed a telescope with which he read all 
 the names of the stars. 
 
 Another time they went for a sail on the blue, translucent 
 waters, and Milenko showed his bride that high rock jutting 
 over the sea, which is situated half-way between Castel Lastua 
 and Castel Stefano, and known as the Skoce Djevojka (The 
 Young Girl's Leap). 
 
 " Did a young girl jump down from that height ? " asked 
 Ivanka, shuddering. 
 
 " Yes. She was a young girl of exceeding beauty, from the 
 neighbouring territory of Pastiovic, and to escape from a Turk 
 who was pursuing her she threw herself down into the abyss 
 beneath. But I'll tell you her story at full length some 
 other time." 
 
 Although the hand of time seemed to move very slowly, still 
 the month of courtship came to an end. Now all the prepara- 
 tions for the wedding were ready, for the nuptials were to be 
 solemnised with great pomp and splendour. 
 
 On the morning of that eventful day, everyone connected 
 with the wedding had risen at daybreak to attend to the 
 numerous preparations required. The principal room in 
 Giulianic's house had been cleared of all the furniture, so 
 as to make room for the breakfast table, which was to be 
 spread there. At that early hour, already the lady of the 
 house was presiding over the women in the kitchen, who 
 were cooking a number of young lambs and kids, roasting 
 huge pieces of beef, numberless fowls on spits, or baking 
 pojace (unleavened bread) on heated stones. 
 
 The men, as a rule, fussed about, creating much confusion, 
 as men usually do on such occasions. They fidgeted and 
 worried lest everything should not be ready in time. They 
 delayed everything, and, moreover, kept wanting and asking 
 for all kinds of impossible things. The barbers' shops were 
 all crowded. At a certain hour — when the bridegroom was 
 expected — a number of people had gathered round about the
 
 POBRATIM 393 
 
 house to see him come. At the gate, for Giulianic's villa 
 was out of the town walls, two sentinels were placed to keep 
 watch. The elder was Zwillievic, Milena's father, who had 
 come from Montenegro for the purpose ; tall and stalwart, 
 with his huge moustache and his glittering weapons at his belt, 
 he was a fierce guard, indeed. The other was Lilic, only a 
 youth, who for self-defence had but a strong stick. 
 
 Both of them were very merry, withal they seemed to be ex- 
 pecting some powerful foe against whose assault they were well 
 prepared. The youth, especially, was so full of his mission, 
 that he hardly dared to take any notice of the loungers who 
 crowded thereabouts. 
 
 At last there was a bustle, and the guards were on the alert. 
 
 •' Here they are, here they are ! " shouted the children. 
 
 The persons expected were in sight, and, except for their rich 
 festive attire, they looked, indeed, as if they were bent upon 
 some predatory expedition, so manly and warlike was their 
 gait. 
 
 The persons expected were about twelve in number ; that is 
 to say, the bridegroom and his followers — the svati, or knights. 
 
 Milenko wore the beautiful dress of the Kotor. Like his 
 train, he had splendid bejewelled daggers and pistols stuck 
 in his leather girdle, and a gun slung across his shoulder. 
 
 They all walked gravely, two by two, up to the garden-gate 
 of Giulianic's house ; there they were stopped by the sentinels. 
 
 '* Who are you ? " said Zwillievic. " Who are you, who, 
 armed to the teeth, dare to come up to this peaceful dwelling? " 
 
 " We are," answered the voivoda, the head of the svati, " all 
 men from this beautiful town of Budua." 
 
 " And what is your motive for coming here ? " 
 
 " We are in search of a beautiful bird that inhabits this 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 " And what do you wish to do with the beautiful bird ? " 
 
 " We wish to take it away with us." 
 
 " And supposing you succeeded in finding it, are you clever 
 enough to capture it ? " 
 
 " All men of the Kotor are clever hunters," answered the 
 voivoda, proudly, and showing Milenko. " This one is the 
 cleverest of all." 
 
 " If you are not only clever in words, show us your skill." 
 
 An old red cap was brought forth and placed upon a stone — 
 it represented the allegorical bird — and the young men fired at
 
 394 POBRA TIM 
 
 it. As almost all of them were excellent marksmen, the cap 
 was soon afterwards but a burning rag. 
 
 Having thus shown their skill, they were allowed to enter 
 within the yard, where more questioning took place. At the 
 door of the house they were met by Giulianic and his wife, 
 by whom they were cross-examined for the last time. 
 
 Having once more proved themselves to be a party of honest 
 hunters, they were all welcomed and allowed to go into the 
 house to see if they could find the beautiful bird. 
 
 The svati were led into the principal room, where the table 
 was laid, and there begged to sit down and partake of some 
 refreshments. All the young men sat down, each one according 
 to his rank, all keeping precisely the same order as they had 
 done in marching. 
 
 Milenko alone did not join his friends at table, for he had 
 at once gone off in search of the allegorical bird. The break- 
 fast having at last reached its end, and the company seeing 
 that, apparently, the hunter had not been very fortunate in 
 his search, two of the svati — the bariactur and the ciaus — 
 volunteered to go to his assistance ; and soon afterwards they 
 reappeared, bringing back with them the beautiful, blushing 
 girl decked out in her wedding attire. Her clothes were of 
 red velvet, brocade and satin, richly embroidered in gold, 
 heirlooms which had been in the family for, perhaps, more 
 than a century, and worn by the grandmother and the mother 
 on similar occasions. 
 
 For the first time Ivanka now appeared without her red cap, 
 which in Dalmatia is only worn by girls as the badge of maiden- 
 hood. Her long tresses formed a natural coronet ; they were 
 interwoven with ribbons of many colours, and adorned with 
 sprays of fresh flowers. 
 
 A universal shout greeted her appearance, and when the 
 congratulations came to an end, the bride got ready to leave 
 her home. Before going away she went to receive her father's 
 blessing ; then her mother clasped her in her arms and kissed 
 her repeatedly. Then, after having expressed her wishes for 
 her future happiness in homely though pathetic words, she 
 reminded her of her duties as a wife and as a bride. 
 
 " Remember, my daughter," said she, "that you must love 
 your husband as the turtle-dove loves her mate, for the poor 
 bird pines away and dies in widowhood rather than be un- 
 faithful. Milenko might have many defects — what man is
 
 POBRA TIM 395 
 
 perfect ? — but you should be the first to extenuate them, the 
 last to proclaim them to the world ; moreover, whatever be his 
 conduct to you, bear in mind that you must never render evil 
 for evil. The heart of a man is moved by patience and long- 
 suffering, just as huge rocks are moved by drops of rain falling 
 from the sky. When a husband comes back to his senses, 
 then he is grateful to his wife, and cherishes her more than 
 before." 
 
 Ivanka was afterwards reminded of her duties to her near 
 relations, for, in those times, and amongst those primitive 
 people, the wit of a nation did not consist in turning mothers- 
 in-law into ridicule. 
 
 She then finished her short speech, drawing tears, not 
 only from her daughter, but even from the eyes of many a 
 swarthy, long-whiskered bystander. 
 
 Before starting, however, another ceremony had to be per- 
 formed. It was that of taking possession of the chest containing 
 all the bride's worldly goods, and on which were displayed the 
 beautiful presents the bride had received. Amongst these were, 
 as usual, two distaffs and a spindle, for spinning had not yet 
 entirely gone out of fashion. Still, these were only the signs of 
 the bride's industry. 
 
 A little imp of a boy, 
 
 " Hardi comme un coq sur son propre fumier," 
 
 was seated on the chest, and he kept a strict watch over it. He 
 had been told to fight whosoever attempted to lay hands on it, 
 and he, therefore, took his part seriously. He scratched, bit, 
 kicked and pummelled all those who attempted to come near 
 it. At last, having received some cakes and a piece of silver 
 money, he was induced to give up the trunk to the svati, who 
 carried it off. 
 
 The bride then left the house amongst the shouting and the 
 firing of the multitude, and the whole train, walking two by 
 two, proceeded to church. 
 
 Lilic and Zwillievic likewise joined the train, for now that 
 the bird had flown away from the nest their task was over. 
 
 As they walked along together, the youth said to the old 
 man : 
 
 " I am sorry for poor Milenko, after all." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Zwillievic. 
 
 " Eh I because Ivanka '11 bury him."
 
 396 POBRATIM 
 
 " How do yon know that ? " qnoth the Montenegrin, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 " Because, you see, Ivanka's name has an even number of 
 letters ; therefore, she'll outlive her husband." 
 
 " I see," replied Zwillievic ; " I had never thought of that." 
 
 After the lengthy Orthodox service, and its chorographic-like 
 evolutions, Danilo Kvekvic made a short speech to the newly- 
 married coupled, whom he blessed, and then the wedding 
 ceremony came to an end. 
 
 The nuptial party finally arrived at Milenko's house, followed 
 by an ever-increasing crowd, and when the shouting and the 
 firing began anew, the whole town knew that the bride had 
 arrived at her new home. 
 
 Ivanka was received at the door of Milenko's house by his 
 father and mother, and there, after the usual welcome, she was 
 presented with two distaffs, two spindles, and a baby-boy, 
 borrowed for the occasion. The child is to remind her that 
 she is expected to be the mother of many boys, for children 
 are still, in Dalmatia, considered as blessings. 
 
 Here, also, the principal apartment had been cleared of all 
 its furniture to make room for the wedding table. At this feast, 
 the givers being people who had seen a great deal of the world 
 and who had adopted new-fangled ideas, married women were 
 also invited. 
 
 The banquet, if not exactly choice, was certainly copious, and 
 it reminded one more of the grand Homeric feasts than the 
 modern dinner-parties. It was composed chiefly of huge dishes 
 of rice, whole lambs roasted, fish and fowl ; and it was a great 
 joy for the givers of the feast to see that host of friends eating 
 with a good appetite and enjoying themselves. 
 
 Before they had sat down a dolibasa, or head-drinker, had 
 been chosen. His functions corresponded, in some degree, 
 with those of the symposiarch of the ancient Greeks. He now 
 presided over the table as an autocrat, and ordered the number 
 of toasts which he thought fit should be drunk. 
 
 No sooner had they sat down than the dolibasa uttered a loud 
 ^^ Zivio!" in honour of the beautiful bride; pistols were fired, 
 and forthwith all the guests emptied their glasses. The ladies, 
 however, were excluded from the drinking, for, whenever a 
 " Hip, hip, hurrah ! " was uttered, the guests had to drain 
 the contents of their tumblers, and not simply to lift them up to 
 their lips, or, at most, sip a few drops of the wine. As for the
 
 POBRATIM 397 
 
 poor wretch who could not comply with the dolibasas orders, 
 he had to leave the table, and some humiliating punishment 
 was invented for him. 
 
 As the feast lasted for several days, the dinner did not really 
 come to an end at once. The eating and drinking were, how- 
 ever, interrupted for a short time by the Kolo, which took place 
 in the yard, festively decorated with lanterns, flags and 
 greenery. The ball, of course, was opened by Ivanka and 
 Milenko. The Kolo they danced this time was the graceful 
 skncci-gorri, or the jumping step, which is something like a 
 Varsovienne, only that the couples, instead of clasping hands, 
 dance it holding the ends of a twisted kerchief. 
 
 As the newly-married couple danced, the hariactar, or flag- 
 bearer, followed every step they made, waving his banner, 
 holding a decanter of wine upon his head, and performing 
 behind them various antics to amuse the crowd. 
 
 When the Kolo had lasted long enough — for. as the proverb 
 says, " Even a fine dance wearies" — the bride and bridegroom 
 retired into the house, and eating and drinking began again 
 with renewed mirth. At last, when the merriment had become 
 uproarious, the young couple rose and left the table. They 
 went and knelt down before Janko Markovic, who blessed them, 
 holding a small loaf of bread over their heads ; then, having 
 given it to them, he bade them begone, in the name of God. 
 
 They were then accompanied to their bridal chamber by 
 Uros and Milena, who helped them to undress, though, 
 according to the traditional custom, this office belonged to 
 the voivoda, the bariactar, and several of the other svati. 
 
 The dolibasa thereupon uttered a loud " Zivio!" which was 
 echoed by everyone in the room, and bumpers were again 
 quaffed down. 
 
 The bariactar thereupon made some appropriate and spicy 
 jokes, the svati did their best to outwit him, the youths winked 
 at the girls, who tried to blush and look demure. 
 
 The music played, the guzlars sang an epithalamium, to 
 which everyone present joined in chorus. At last the voivoda 
 and the principal svati went and knocked at the door of the 
 bridal chamber, and asked the hunter to relate his adventures 
 and his success. Then the proofs of the consiimniatum est having 
 been brought forth, pistols, blunderbusses, and guns were fired, 
 to announce the happy event to the whole town, and the drink- 
 ing began again.
 
 398 POBRATIM 
 
 Eight days of festivities ensued, during which time — ahhough 
 the eating and drinking continued in the same way— the scene 
 varied from one house to the other. 
 
 At last, the new ship being christened and launched, it was 
 soon rigged out, all decked with flags and streamers. Then 
 Milenko and Uros embarked with their wives, delighted at the 
 prospect of seeing something of the world. On a beautiful May 
 morning the white sails were unfurled, the anchor was heaved, 
 and the beautiful vessel began to glide slowly on the smooth, 
 glassy waters, like a snowy swan. The crowd gathered on the 
 beach fired off their pistols and shouted with joy. The women 
 waved their handkerchiefs. 
 
 Soon, nothing more was seen but a dim speck in the grey 
 distance. Then the crowd wended their way homewards, for 
 they had seen the last of the pobratim. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 H. S. NICHOLS, PRINTER, 3, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.

 
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