We gave
the little man a franc for his efforts, and his broad face nearly split
in his endeavour to express a voiceless gratitude.
We were no longer royalty, we were just dull, ordinary everyday folk,
and at the station had endless formalities to go through, examinations
of passes, etc., during which time all intending passengers were locked
in the waiting-room. But at last we were allowed to take seats in the
train, and off we went.
We passed through the plain of Kossovo where old Serbian culture was
prostrated before the onrush of the Turk, and whence Serbia has drawn
all its legends and heroes; possibly the most unromantic looking spot in
all Europe, save only Waterloo. Here, far to the left, was Mahmud's
tomb:--Mahmud the great victor, stabbed the day before the battle, and
dying as he saw his armies victorious. History contains no keener
romance. Serge the hero, accompanied by two faithful servants, galloped
to the Turkish camp, and commanded an interview with the Moslem
general, who thought he was coming to be a traitor.
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