Bed was beginning to be a mere commonplace now, but we enjoyed it for
all that, and slept well into the morning.
Scutari wore its usual air of "the ballet" when we arose. The ladies
dressed all in their best clothes, and with great flowing veils and wide
skirted coats were hobbling to church. The shopkeepers, with their long
black and white legs and coloured shirts, were lounging about the low
counters of their shops, smoking and drinking coffee brought them (on
little swinging trays) by boys.
The British consul had taken up his quarters at the "Maison Piget." The
house was gated, as are all Albanian houses, but this gate was like an
old feudal portal. The doors were wonderfully carved and were opened by
our old friend the Wolf. We had thought him to be a servant of Suma's,
but it appeared that he belonged to the British Empire.
The house was crammed full of arms: a little cannon threatened us on the
stairway, swords, claymores, creeses, falchions, scimitars, glaives,
dirks, and yatagans were nailed on all the walls, and there were muskets
of every sort and size, heavy arquebuses from the north and gas-pipe
guns and Arab horsemen firelocks with polished stocks like the handle of
a corkscrew, all inlaid with gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl.
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