house--filled the streets, and also the inevitable ragged soldiers with
gorgeous bags on their backs.

Some of the women, too, were wearing these caps, but theirs were yet
smaller and tipped over their noses, like the pork pie hat of our
grandmothers. One closely veiled woman showed the silhouette sticking up
through her veil just like a blacking tin.

The Mahommedan is much more fanatic in these parts than his more
civilized brother of Salonika or Constantinople. Women of the two
religions do not visit. The hatred is partially political, and Jo began
to realize that her dream of visiting a harem would not be easy to
achieve. We met three women walking down a lonely street. Although their
faces were covered with several thicknesses of black chiffon, they
modestly placed them against the wall and stood there, three shapeless
bundles, until we were out of sight.

Jan's feelings were very much hurt, but he soon got used to being
treated like a dangerous dragon.

When we reached our hotel again we found the élite of the town waiting
in the bar-room for us. There was a huge jolly Greek priest, all big hat
and velvet, the prefect, the schoolmaster, a linguist, and the little
black-hatted man whom we had mistaken for a hotel tout.

The priest was president of the Montenegrin Red Cross, the prefect was a
former Prime Minister and a Voukotitch. All important men who are not
Petroviches are Voukotitches; the first being members of the king's and
the second of the queen's family.