S’bogom!—God be with you!
His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas of Montenegro.
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje—A cigarette with the Prince—The policy of Montenegro—A confidential chat—His Royal Highness’s admiration for England—His views upon Macedonia—He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me—His Highness’s kindness—Souvenirs.
“His Royal Highness the Prince will be pleased to grant you private audience at four o’clock this afternoon, gospodin.”
The tall, burly aide-de-camp in the little round cap, high boots, pale blue overcoat, and pistols in his belt, saluted, and we shook hands.
It was then three o’clock, and I was just about to go out to visit Madame Constantinovitch, the mother of Princess Mirko. So I had to return at once to my room and dress for the audience. The kings and princes of the Balkans have a habit of summoning one at a moment’s notice, and paying visits at unearthly hours.
Here, in Cettinje, in the heart of these wild, desolate fastnesses, one seems so far removed from European influence, yet how great a part has this rocky, impregnable country, with its fierce soldier-inhabitants, played in the politics of Eastern Europe, and how great a part it is still destined to play in the near future!
The fact that everybody is armed gives the stranger an uncanny feeling. The man who brings one’s coffee wears a perfect arsenal of weapons in his sash, and one quickly acquires the habit of carrying a revolver one’s self. Indeed, if you are wise, you will carry a good serviceable weapon from the moment you enter the Balkans to the moment you quit them. But if you approach the Albanian frontier, you will be at once warned not to fire without just cause. A few shots is sufficient to alarm the whole neighbourhood for many miles, and on hearing the alarm every man seizes his rifle and flies to the rendezvous, fully equipped and eager for the fight with those Albanian border tribes, of whom I afterwards had the good fortune to be the guest.