‘What’s the price of a four-horse team?’
‘They ask fifteen francs.’
‘Well, I think we can afford twelve shillings for a conveyance, four horses and a man, Count!’
‘But I have already engaged this man, sir.’
‘Count, we will take a four-horse team.’
The Count expostulated, and I had to repeat. It was then I discovered that there was something of the Rob Roy in my old Jew. He would rob me because, as he informed me later, Americans were rolling in wealth, but he was going to do the right thing by a peasant.
‘But I have hired this man, sir,’ he said again. ‘We shall have to pay him if we take another.’
I told the Count to give him half a day’s wages, which he did, and the peasant nearly collapsed with surprise.
The drive over the mountains to Kustendil consumed six hours, so we did not arrive there until long after dark.
My advance had been telegraphed ahead from Sofia, and soon after breakfast next morning I was waited on by the governor of the district and all his staff in a body. The governor had instructions from the Minister of the Interior to facilitate my journey in every way, and was ready to do anything he could to aid me. I expressed my appreciation of his kindness, and promised to avail myself of it if necessary. There was method in this hospitality: the Bulgarians are not ordinarily so polite.