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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

The bride
was seized by two men, her brothers we were told, and carried up the
stairs to a waiting brougham, the trousseau was piled upon a bullock
cart, and shouting and singing and dancing the _cortege_ moved out of
sight.
At Virbazar the steamer could not come to the quay, so the authorities
ran a five-inch rounded tree trunk from the boat to the mud. Many dared
the perilous crossing, and one nearly fell into the water. Dr. Ob was
furious, and at last a plank was substituted. Then we found that the
only way off the mud was by clambering round a corner of wall on some
shaky stepping stones. Dr. Ob fumed, his little round face grew rounder,
his moustache went up and down, he threatened everybody with instant
execution, like the Red Queen in "Alice." Then he found that no motor
was awaiting us. He rushed to the telephone while we had a belated
lunch. No motors; one was out taking the Serbian officers for a
joy-ride; Prince Peter had taken the other to Antivari. Montenegro
seemed to have no more.


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