At six they knocked
again, saying--
"Get up quickly; the carriage is at the door."
No explanations.
We hurried so much that we left our best soap and our mascot, a
beautiful little wooden chicken, behind for ever. The major was waiting
in the bar room.
We were sorry to say good-bye, he was lonely, and we liked him; but we
lost no time, as we were seven hours from Podgoritza and goodness knows
how far from Cettinje.
The carriage and coachman were the same as yesterday's, but his
expression was so lugubrious in the downpouring rain that he looked
another man.
Just outside the village he picked up a friend and put her in the
carriage. She was a velvet-coated old lady with a flat white face and
two bright birdlike brown eyes which she never took off us.
Conversation was impossible, as she had only one tooth, round which her
speech whistled unintelligibly, and she hiccuped loudly once in every
half-hour. We were most uncomfortable. The hood was up, and a piece of
tarpaulin was stretched from it across to the coachman's seat, blocking
out the view except for the little we could see through a tiny triangle.
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