"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.
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 bystanders; "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!"