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

"
Coffee and cigarettes came in, of the best, and the rakia was a thing
apart from the acrid stuff we were accustomed to.
He admitted its superiority. The plums came from his own estate, and
were distilled by the monks. The great difficulty was to prevent him
from giving us too much.
We talked of the war, and he related many atrocities, winding up with
"Of course, England must win; but what will become of us in the
meanwhile?"
That evening we had a visitor. A very large Montenegrin in French
fireman's uniform knocked at the door. He said his name was Nikola
Pavlovitch. He had been sent by the governor to apologise for the
"trouble" Jan had had that morning with the drunken soldier.
"'E in jail now, 'e verry sorry and say if you forgive 'im, mister, 'e
never touch rakia, never no more. 'E good chap reely. Got too much rakia
this mornin', 'E think about Turks an' get kinder mad some'ow. 'E don't
know what 'e done; first thing 'e knows 'e finds 'imself in river."
Nikola Pavlovitch was, though not an officer, the commandant of a
contingent of miners from America.


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