At the gates of the Palace I made my bow, and the Prince, putting out his hand, wished me good night, saying, "I must see you again before you leave."
In a few minutes I was in my room. I required no light, the moon was so brilliant. The night being warm, and not feeling at all sleepy from the excitement I had gone through, I lit a cigar, and leaning with my elbows on the window-sill, I looked out into the little plain where so shortly before I had been walking about. The turmoil had now greatly diminished, and in every direction I could see that preparations were being made to bivouac à la belle étoile. The horses that up to this time had been allowed to roam about here and there, cropping the scanty herbage, were now being collected and picketed one by one near the spot which had been selected by the owner for his own peculiar sleeping place; while the court-yard of the old Palace was also fully tenanted, and apparently by the same party I had watched in the early morning, and which, from the better style of their horses, the glitter of their equipments, and the appearance of their attendants, seemed to belong to some of the native chiefs.
By degrees the different noises ceased, and in less than an hour the whole camp was steeped in silence. Such a contrast to the noise and turmoil of an hour before, when twenty thousand people, men, women and children, were shouting, dancing, and yelling at the top of their voices!
I put on my helmet, and with a short stick in my hand, simply to keep away any snarling dog that might be inclined to give trouble, I quickly crossed the court-yard and let myself out by the gate into the plain. The moon had barely passed the zenith, and shone almost perpendicularly on the prostrate groups, who, in different attitudes of sleep, were dotted all about; some wrapped up in their strookas, more from habit than necessity, as the air was warm; some turned on their faces, some on their back with their arms outstretched; but all profoundly asleep; and such was the silence that, but for the absence of blood and mutilated limbs and broken weapons, one could easily have imagined it the field of some hard-fought fight.
I was surveying the placid scene and standing close to a magnificent mountaineer who was sleeping on his back, with his face fully upturned to the moon and his arms extended, when suddenly he awoke. In the twinkling of an eye he was on his feet and his hand on his yataghan. I don't imagine my life was the least in danger, even for a moment—but if it was, my helmet and my cigar saved me. However, I instantly saluted him in Slave, and with a "Sbogo Gospodin" he returned the compliment, at the same time putting out his hand he shook mine warmly, and pointing with the other to the ancient Palace, led me away towards it, talking softly the while and smiling; but unfortunately I could not understand, and the only response I could make was by offering him a cigar, which he at once lit at mine and pronouncing it "dobre" (good) puffed away at it with a will. At the great gate of the Palace he wished me good-night, when I begged of him by signs to take another weed, and so we parted.
The next morning being the day of the feast, I was awoke pretty early by the repeated firing of cannon just outside the gate of the Palace and in front of my window. I should have been glad to have slept a few hours longer, but the noise was too great, and my so-called Italian-speaking servant coming in at the same moment, I jumped out of bed and called out, "Colazione!"
I had not more than half finished, and was in the act of peeling some grand specimens of Albanian figs, when in walked Pero Pejovich, who came to tell me that the Prince and Princess, with all the notables and Voyvodes of Montenegro, would attend High Mass at ten, and that the cortège would pass under my windows and would be worth seeing. He added that if I liked he would take me into church and get me standing-room inside before they arrived; but he feared the crowd and the heat would be something fearful. Consequently, finding it quite hot enough already, I determined to remain where I was and enjoy the procession from my window.
I then told the Commandant of my adventure the night before. He scolded me awfully, but patted me on the back, as one would a child, and said I might have run some risk had I not been fortunately recognised as a guest of the Prince.
"Only imagine," said he, "if anything had gone wrong, the honour of Montenegro might have been compromised."
We then lit our cigars, and while waiting for mass-time, fell, as usual, into conversation about his country and its usages.