"Don't you know," said he, laughing, "que nous sommes des ogres, et que nous mangeons les enfans; however, you shall try how we cook them if you will dine here to-night at eight."
I thanked His Highness for his kindness, adding that I had never heard of their cannibal propensities, but in any case I should be happy to eat anything His Highness also would eat, and making my bow backed out of the saloon.
I then left my card for the Russian Consul, who was staying at the Palace, and afterwards went to pay the same compliment to Mr. Nico Matanovich, aide-de-camp to the Prince; after which I returned to my quarters, to convert into a luncheon the repast which otherwise would have served for a dinner, but for the hospitality of His Highness.
CHAPTER XV.
A POLYGLOT JUMBLE—WAR CUSTOMS OF THE MONTENEGRINS—DEATH IN BATTLE—FORAYS FOR THE PLUNDER OF CATTLE—EQUIPAGE OF A MONTENEGRIN SOLDIER—PILLAGE—MANNER OF FIGHTING—TACTICS—SIGNAL CRIES—ON BOARD SHIP—DECAPITATION OF WOUNDED PRISONERS.
I NOW discovered what a terrible nuisance it is to know only three or four languages, especially when one finds oneself in a country the language of which is a complete mystery. The attendant I had, who had been so thoughtfully provided for me by Mr. Matanovich, professed to speak Italian, and he did in fact know a few Italian words, but in his general conversation with me, as was subsequently discovered and explained to me by Pero Pejovich, the language in which he spoke consisted pretty much of the following happy mixture: six-tenths of Montenegrin, three-tenths of Albanian and Turkish, with one-tenth Italian! With this polyglot jumble we got on fairly well, as far as hot water, coffee, pipe, tobacco, pranzo; and he learned to appreciate eventually the American word "skedaddle," but when our necessities required further intercourse, it was perfectly hopeless—language was utterly useless, and gesticulation the only chance of making oneself understood. But he was a willing poor beggar, and not more dishonest than the majority of his fellows. He had a wholesome terror of the Prince's rigorous punishment of theft. "Niente ladri in Montenegro," he used to say, "Principe terrible," turning up his eyes and distorting his countenance to a fearful degree.