Gordon, and Jo and the
tattered one, two handmaids.
Immediately over the frontier the road began to be Serbian, but not as
Serbian as it became later on, and we reached Rudnik--and lunch--in good
condition. Another carriage similar to our own was here, containing a
Turkish family. The father, a great stalwart Albanian, and the son a
budding priest in cerise socks. The priest was carrying food to his
carriage, and we discovered that a woman was within, stowed away at the
back like the widow's luggage, and carefully protected by two curtains,
so that no eye should behold her. Her sufferings between Rudnik and
Mitrovitza can be imagined when you have heard ours.
From Rudnik we walked to ease our cramped limbs, and the road became so
bad that the driver went across country to avoid it. Here is the receipt
for making a Serbian road.
"The engineer in charge shall send two hundred bullock trains from Here
to There. He shall then find out along which path the greater number
have travelled (_i.
Pages:
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208