At the consul's house we found the captain of the Miridites awaiting us.
He was a heavy-looking man with European clothes and a fez. After the
ceremonious coffee he made a set speech, saying that he was paying his
duties to the great British Empire, and that England was their only
hope. The consul sat rather wishing that he wouldn't, and that his
servant had said that he was not at home. In common with most of the
Christian rulers of Albania this gentleman seemed to have spent most of
his time in exile.
Returning to the hotel Jan found that Jo had been purchasing, and he
dragged her and Miss Brindley off to see the archbishop. The cathedral
still carries the scars of the first bombardment. The archbishop, a
large flat man, gave us each a hand as though he expected us to kiss it;
he had a huge archiepispocal ring and a lot of imperiosity. He seemed
more political than bishopy, though most of the Churchmen are; and there
is the tale of one who said, "I would rather people went to drill than
to church.
Pages:
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400