191 33 Back to Cettinje 



"Prokletia" (Accursed Mountains). Absolutely bar- Trust in 

 ren, they look at a distance as though they had been ^""^^^ 

 skinned — in this regard resembling Mount Sinai, 

 or the heights of southeastern Utah. The Powers had 

 further agreed to dredge Boyana River, the outlet of 

 the lake, lowering the level by several feet and thus 

 yielding hundreds of acres of rich land to Montenegro. 

 Presumably, however, the war prevented the carrying 

 out of this provision. 



At the Rjeka dock we were met by Nicola, who — 

 referring to the siege of Scutari — ventured a sage 

 remark: ^'Far guerra, stupido" (To make war is 

 stupid). 



Having again reached the diminutive Grand Hotel 

 of Cettinje, I asked Nicola to come around with his 

 carriage at 5.30 the following morning to get me 

 down in time for the noon steamer from Cattaro to 

 Ragusa. A public auto-bus would make the trip in 

 four hours, but its closed sides shut out the view, so 

 that I preferred to retain a private conveyance. 

 This was my partial undoing! Among the hotel 

 guests were a Belgian physician and his family, like- 

 wise intending to leave next day. Thinking, however, 

 that the bus might become crowded, the gentleman 

 asked if I would be good enough to take his wife's maid 

 in my carriage — a request easily granted, of course. 



But the timid woman, desperately afraid of being 

 forgotten, rose at 3 a.m. and promptly called me lest 

 I mJght oversleep. Supposing the summons to be 

 official, I at once dressed and went down to find her 

 waiting and all ready to go, though Nicola would 

 not appear for a couple of hours. Outside it was 

 bitterly cold; nevertheless, all chance of sleep being 



C 533 1 



