The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

by P. Jones

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE "KARVARINA"

  Radonic had never been much of a favourite amongst his fellowcountrymen, for he was of an unsociable, surly, overbearingdisposition; still, from the day he had killed Vranic public opinionbegan to change in his behalf. A man gifted with an evil eye is abaleful being, whom everyone dreads meeting--a real curse in a town,for a number of the daily accidents and trivial misfortunes wereascribed to the malign influence of his visual organs. It was,therefore, but natural that Radonic should, tacitly, be looked uponas a kind of deliverer. Besides this unavowed feeling of relief athaving been rid of the _jettatore_, no one could feel any pity forVranic; for even the more indifferent could only shrug theirshoulders, and mutter to themselves, "Serve him right," for he hadonly met with the fate he had deserved.

  As for Radonic, he daily grew in the general esteem. There issomething manly in the life of a highwayman who, with his gun, stopsa whole caravan, or asks for bread, his dagger in his hand. It is areversion to the old type of prehistoric man. But, more than ahighwayman, Radonic was a _heyduk_, fighting against the Turks, andputting his life in jeopardy at every step he made.

  For a man of Radonic's frame of mind, there was something enticing inthe life he was leading; struggles and storms seemed congenial to hisnature. On board his ship he would only cast away his sullenness whendanger was approaching, and hum a tune in the midst of the tempest;in fact, he only seemed to breathe at ease when a stiff gale wasblowing.

  He arrived at Cettinje on the eve of an expedition against the Turks,just when every man that could bear a gun was welcome, especiallywhen he made no claim to a share of the booty. Having reached theconfines of Montenegro, amidst those dark rocks, in that eyrie of thebrave, having the sky for his roof and his gun for a pillow, life forthe first time seemed to him worth living. He did not fear death--nay, he almost courted it. He felt no boding cares for the morrow;the present moment was more than enough for him. Though he lackedentirely all the softness of disposition that renders social lifeagreeable, he had in him some of the qualities of a hero, or, atleast, of a great military chief--boldness, hardihood and valour.During the whole of his lifetime he had always tried to make himselffeared, never loved. He cared neither for the people's admiration norfor their disdain; he only required implicit obedience to ordersgiven. With such a daring, unflinching character, he soon acquired aname that spread terror whenever it was uttered; and in a skirmishthat took place a week after his arrival at Cettinje, he killed aTurkish chieftain, cut off his head, and sent it, by a prisoner hehad taken, to the _Pasha_ of the neighbouring province, informingthis official that he would, if God granted him life, soon treat himin the same way. A high sum was at once set upon his head, but it wasan easier thing to offer the prize than to obtain it.

  Radonic would have been happy enough now, had he not been married,or, at least, if he had been wedded to a woman who loved him, and whowould have welcomed him home after a day's, or a week's, hardfighting--who would have mourned for him had he never come back; but,alas! he knew that Milena hated him. Roaming in the lonely forests,climbing on the trackless mountains, lurking amidst the dark rocksand crags, his heart yearned for the wife he had ill-treated.

  A month, and even more, had elapsed since Vranic had been murdered.Zwillievic, his father-in-law, had been in Budua, and he had thencome back to Cettinje; but, far from bringing Milena with him, he hadleft his wife there to take care of this daughter of his, who, in thestate in which she was, had never recovered from the terrible shockshe had received on that morning when she stumbled upon Vranic'scorpse.

  All kinds of doubts again assailed him, and jealousy, that had alwaysbeen festering in his breast, burst out afresh, fiercer than ever; itpreyed again upon him, embittered his life. After all, was it notpossible that Milena was only shamming simply not to come toCettinje? Perhaps, he thought, one of the many young men who hadtried to flirt with her, was now at Budua making love to her.

  He, therefore, made up his mind to brave the _pamdours_ (the Austrianpolice), to meet with the anger of Vranic's brothers, just to seeMilena again, and find out how she fared, and what she was doing. He,one evening, started from Cettinje, went down the steep road leadingto the sea-shore, got to the gates of the town at nightfall, and,wrapped in his great-coat, with his hood pulled down over his eyes,he crossed the town and reached his house.

  He stopped at the window and looked in; Milena was nowhere to beseen. He was seized by a dreadful foreboding--what if he had come toolate? Two women were standing near the door of the inner room,talking. He, at first, could hardly recognise them by the glimmeringlight of the oil-lamp; still, after having got nearer the window, hesaw that one of them was Mara Bellacic, and the other hismother-in-law.

  He then went to the door, tapped gently, and pushed it open; seeinghim, both the women started back astonished.

  His first question was, of course, about his wife. She was a littlebetter, they said, but still very ill.

  "She is asleep now. You can come in and see her, but take care not towake her," added Milena's mother.

  "Yes," quoth Mara, "take care, for should she wake and see you sounexpectedly, the shock might be fatal."

  Radonic went noiselessly up to the door of the bedroom and peeped in.Seeing Milena lying motionless on the bed, pale, thin and haggard, hewas seized with a feeling of deep pity, such as he had never feltbefore in the whole of his life, and he almost cursed the memory ofhis mother, for she had been the first to set him against his wife,and had induced him to be so stern and harsh towards her.

  He skulked about that night, and on the following day he sent forBellacic, for Markovic, and for some kinsmen and acquaintances, andasked them to help him out of his difficulties. They at oncepersuaded him to try and make it up with Vranic's relations, to paythe _karvarina_ money, and thus hush up the whole affair.

  While public opinion was favourable to him, it would be easy enoughto find several persons to speak in his behalf, to act as mediatorsor umpires, and settle the price to be paid for the blood that hadbeen spilt.

  Although the Montenegrins and the inhabitants of the Kotar, as wellas almost all Dalmatians, are--like the Corsicans--justly deemed aproud race, amongst whom every wrong must be washed out with blood,and although they all have a strong sense of honour, so that revengebecomes a sacred duty, jealously transmitted from one generation toanother, still the old Biblical way of settling all litigations withfines, and putting a price for the loss of life, is still in fullforce amongst them.

  In the present case Vranic's brothers were quite willing to come to acompromise, that is to say, to give up all thoughts of vengeance,provided, after all the due formalities had taken place, an adequatesum were paid to them. First, they had never been fond of theirbrother; secondly, they knew quite well that Radonic was fullyjustified in what he had done, and that, moreover, everybodycommended him for his rash deed; thirdly, having inherited theirbrother's property, the little sorrow they had felt for him the firstmoment had quite passed away.

  Markovic and Bellacic set themselves to work at once. Their firstcare was to find six young and, possibly, handsome women, with sixbabes, who, acting as friends to Radonic, would go to Vranic'sbrothers and intercede for him.

  It was rather a difficult task, for Radonic had few friends at Budua.All the sailors that had been with him had not only rued the timespent on his ship, but had been enemies to him ever afterwards. Hehad married a wife from Montenegro, envied for her beauty, and notmuch liked by the gentler sex. Milena had been too much admired bymen for women to take kindly to her; still, as she was now on a bedof sickness, and all her beauty blasted, envy had changed into pity.

  After no end of trouble, many promises of silk kerchiefs, yards ofstuff for dresses, or other trifles, six rather good-looking women,and the same number of chubby babies, were mustered, and, on a dayappointed for the purpose, they were to go, together with Markovicand Bellacic, to sue for peace.

  In the meanwhile Radonic had stealthily cal
led on a number ofpersons, had invited them to drink with him, related to them thenumber of Turks he had shot, and by sundry means managed to disposethem in his favour. They, by their influence, tried to pacify theVranic family, and a month's truce was granted to Radonic, duringwhich time the preliminaries of peace were undertaken.

  At last, after many consultations and no end of smooth talking, theday for the ceremony of the _karvarina_ was fixed upon. Markovic andBellacic, together with the six women, carrying their babes andfollowed by a crowd of spectators, went up to Vranic's house. As soonas they got to the door, the women fell down on their knees, bowingdown their heads, and, whilst the babes began to shriek lustily, themen called out, in a loud voice:

  "Vranic, our brother in God and in St. John, we greet you! Take pityon us, and allow us to come within your house."

  Having repeated this request three times--during which the womenwailed and the babies shrieked always louder--the door at last wasopened, and the murdered man's two younger brothers appeared on thethreshold.

  Though all the household had been for more than two hours on thelook-out for this embassy, still the two men put on an astonishedlook, as if they had not the remotest idea as to what it all meant,or why or wherefore the crowd had gathered round their house.

  Standing on the threshold they inquired of the men what they wanted,after which they went and, taking every woman by the hand, made herget up; then, imprinting a kiss on every howling babe, they tried tosoothe and quiet it. This ceremony over, the women were begged toenter the house and be seated. Once inside, Bellacic, acting as chiefintercessor, handed to the Vranics six yards of fine cloth whichRadonic had provided him with, this being one of the customary peaceofferings. Then, taking a big bottle of plum brandy from the hands ofone of his attendants, he poured out a glass and offered it to themaster of the house; the glass went round, and the house soon echoedwith the shouts of "_Zivio!_" or "Long life!" and the merrimentincreased in the same ratio as the spirits in the huge bottledecreased.

  When everybody was in a boisterous good-humour--except the twoVranics, for strong drink only rendered them peevish andquarrelsome--the subject of the visit was broached.

  Josko Vranic, the elder of the two brothers, would at first notlisten to Bellacic's request.

  "What!" exclaimed he, in the flowery style of Eastern mourners, "doyou ask me to come to terms with Radonic, who cruelly murdered mybrother? Do you wish me to press to my heart the viper from whoseteeth we still smart? Do you think I have no soul, no faith? Oh! mypoor brother"--(he hated him in his lifetime)--"my poor brother,murdered in the morning of his life, in the spring of his youth, astar of beauty, a lion of strength and courage; had the murderer'shand but spared him, what great things might he not have done! Oh, mybrother, my beloved brother! No; blood alone can avenge blood, andhis soul can never rest in peace till my dagger is sheathed in hismurderer's heart. No, Radonic must die; blood for blood; life forlife. I must find out the foul dog and strangle him as he strangledmy beloved brother, or I am no true Slav. Tell me where he is, if youknow, that I may tear him to pieces; for nothing can arrest my arm!"

  Josko Vranic was a tailor, and a very peaceful kind of a tailor intothe bargain. It is true that, when his brain was fuddled with drink,he was occasionally blood-thirsty; but his rage expended itself farmore in words than in deeds. For the present, he was simply trying toact his part well, and was only repeating hackneyed phrases oftenuttered in houses of mourning, at funerals, and at wakes.

  All his thoughts were bent on the sum of money he might obtain for_karvarina_, and he, therefore, thought that the more he magnifiedhis grief, the greater would be the sum he might ask for blood-money.

  Bellacic and Markovic, as well as the other friends of both partiesgathered in the house, deemed it advisable to leave him to giveutterance to his grief. Then, when he had said his say and thechildren were quieted, Radonic's friends began to persuade him toforego all ideas of vengeance, and--after much useless talking--manyprayers from the women, and threats from the babes to begin shriekingagain, Vranic agreed that he would try and smother his grief, nay,for their sakes, forget his resentment; therefore, after muchcogitation, he named a jury of twenty-four men to act as arbitratorsbetween him and the murderer, and settle the price that was to bepaid for the blood. This jury was, of course, composed of personsthat he thought hated Radonic, and who would at least demand a sumequivalent to L200 or L300. He little knew how much his own brotherhad been disliked, and the low price that was set on his life.

  These twenty-four persons having been appointed, Radonic called uponall of them, and got them to meet at Bellacic's house the day beforethe ceremony of the _karvarina_; he sent there some small barrels ofchoice wine, and provisions of all kinds for the feast of that day, aswell as for the banquet of the morrow, for he knew quite well thatthe gall of a bitter enemy is less acrid after a good dinner, andthat an indifferent person becomes a friend when he is chewing thecud of the dainty things you have provided for him.

  As soon as supper was over, and while the _bucara_ of sweet _muscato_wine was being handed round, Bellacic submitted the case to thetwenty-four arbiters, expatiated like a lawyer on the heinous wayVranic had acted, how like a real snake he had crept between husbandand wife, trying to put enmity between them, and how he had succeededin his treachery, doing all this to seduce a poor distracted woman.

  "Now," continued Bellacic, "put yourselves in Radonic's place andtell me how you yourselves would have acted. If you have the right toshoot the burglar who, in the dead of night, breaks into your houseto rob you of your purse, is it not natural that you should throttlethe ruffian who, under the mantle of friendship, sneaks into yourbedroom to rob you of your honour? Is the life of such a man worthmore than that of the scorpion you crush under your heel? Vranic wasneither my friend nor my enemy; therefore, I have no earthly reasonto set you against him, nor to induce you to be friendly towardsRadonic. I only ask you to be just, and to tell me the worth of theblood he has spilt."

  Bellacic stopped for a moment to see the effect of his speech on hislisteners. All seemed to approve his words no less than they did thesweet wine of the _bucara_; then after a slight pause, he again wenton.

  "Radonic may have many faults, nay, he has many; are we not all of usfull of blemishes? Still, the poor that will be fed for many daysfrom the crumbs of our feast will surely not say that he is a miser.Still--withal he is lavish--one thing he is fully determined not todo, that is to pay more for the blood he has spilt than it is reallyworth.

  "It is true that the heirs of the dead man are filling the whole townwith their laments; but do you think that those who mourn so loudlywould gladly welcome their brother back, nay, I ask you how many handswould be stretched out to greet Vranic if the grave were to yawn andgive up the dead man. Who, within his innermost heart, is not reallyglad to have got rid of a man who carried an evil influence with himwhithersoever he went?

  "But speaking the truth in this case is almost like trying to set youagainst the exaggerated claims of the late man's brothers; whilst youall know quite well that I only wish you to act according to yourbetter judgment, and whatever your decision be, we shall abide by it.You are husbands, you are Slavs; the honour of your homes, of yourchildren, of your wives is dear to you; therefore, I drink to yourhonour with Radonic's wine."

  As the _bucara_ could not go round fast enough, so glasses werefilled, and toasts were drunk. After that, Bellacic left the room, sothat the jury might discuss the matter under no restraint. Althoughtwenty of the men were in favour of Radonic, still four thought thatthe arguments used in his favour had been so brilliant that Bellacichad rather charmed than convinced them. They were, however, overruledby the many, and the bumpers they swallowed in the heat of theargument ended by convincing them, too.

  "Gentlemen," said Bellacic, coming back, "I shall not ask you now ifVranic's life was worth a herd or a single cow, a flock or a singlesheep, or even a goat, for here is Teodoroff, the _guzlar_, who isgoing to enliven us
with the glorious battle of Kossovo, and thegreat deeds of our immortal Kraglievic."

  The bard came in, and he was listened to with rapt attention duringthe half-hour that his poem lasted. No one spoke, or drank, or evenmoved; all remained as if spell-bound; their eyes seemed to seek forthe words as they flowed from the poet's lips. At last the _guzlar_stopped, and after a few moments of silence, shouts of applause brokeforth. Just then Radonic came into the room, and the twenty-four menall shook hands with him heartily, and, excited as the audience waswith the daring deeds of Marko Kraglievic, Bellacic made him relatesome of his encounters with the Turks, and show the holes in his coatthrough which the bullets had passed.

  "And now, Teodoroff," said Radonic, finishing the story of hisexploits, "give us something lively; I think we've had enough ofbloodshed for the whole evening."

  "Yes," added Bellacic; "but let us first finish the business forwhich we have been brought together, and then we can devote theremainder of our time to pleasure."

  "Yes," retorted one of the twenty-four arbitrators, "it's time thematter was settled."

  "Well, then," quoth Markovic, "what is the price of the _jettatore_'slife?"

  "As for me," said one of the younger men, "it's certainly not worththat of a cow!"

  "No, nor that of a goat!" added another.

  "Well, let's be generous towards the tailor," said Bellacic,laughing, "and settle his brother's life at the price of a hugesilver Maria Theresa dollar, eh?"

  Some of the arbitrators were about to demur, but as the proposal hadcome from them, they could not well gainsay it.

  "Then it's settled," said Bellacic, hastening to fill the glasses;"and now, Teodoroff, quick! give us one of your best songs; somethingbrisk and lively."

  The _guzlar_ took up his instrument, played a few bars as a kind ofprelude, emitted a prolonged "Oh!" which ended away in a trill, andthen began the tale of

  MARKO KRAGLIEVIC AND JANKO OF SEBINJE.

  Two brave and bonny knights, both bosom friends, Were Marko Kraglievic of deathless fame, And Janko of Sebinje, fair and wise. Both seemed to have been cast within one mould, For no two brothers could be more alike. One day, as they were chatting o'er their wine, Fair Janko said unto his faithful friend: "My wife has keener eyes than any man's, And sharper wits besides; our sex is dull; No man has ever played a trick on her." Then Marko, smiling, said: "Do let me try To match, in merry sport, my wits 'gainst hers." "'Tis well," quoth Janko, with a winsome smile, "But, still, beware of woman's subtle guile." Then 'twixt the friends a wager soon was laid; Fair Janko pledged his horse, a stallion rare, A fleet and milk-white steed, Kula by name, And with his horse he pledged his winsome wife; Whilst, for his wager, Marko pawned his head. "Now, one thing more; lend me thy clothes," said Mark, "Thy jewelled weapons, and thy milk-white steed." And Janko doffed, and Marko donned the clothes, Then buckled on his friend's bright scimitar. As soon as Janko's wife spied him from far, She thought it was her husband, and ran out; But then she stopped, for something in his mien, Which her quick eye perceived, proclaimed at once That warlike knight upon her husband's horse To be the outward show, the glittering garb And a fair mirage of the man she loved. Thereon within her rooms she hied in haste, And to her help she called her trusty maid. "O Kumbra, sister mine," she said to her, "I know not why, but Janko seems so wroth. Put on my finest clothes, and hie to him." When Marko saw the maid, he turned aside, And wrapped himself within his wide _kalpak_, Then said that he would fain be left alone. He thought, in sooth, that she was Janko's wife. A dainty meal was soon spread for the knight. The lady called again her trusted maid, And thus she spake: "My Kumbra, for this night Sleep in my room, nay, in my very bed. And, for the deed that I demand of thee, This purse of gold is thine. Besides this gift, Thou henceforth wilt be free." The maiden bowed, And said: "My lady's wish is law for me." Now Marko at his meal sat all alone, When he had supped he went into the room Where Kumbra was asleep; there he sat down, And passed the whole long night upon a chair, Close by the young girl's bed. He seemed to be A father watching o'er his sickly child. But when the gloaming shed its glimmering light, The knight arose; he went, with stealthy steps, And cut a lock from off the young girl's head, Which he at once hid in his breast, with care. Before the maiden woke he left the house, And rode full-speed back to his bosom friend. Still, ere he had alighted from his horse: "You've lost!" said Janko, with his winsome smile. "I've won!" quoth Marko, with a modest grace; "Here is the token that I've won my bet." And Janko took the golden curl, amazed. Just then a page, who rode his horse full-speed, Came panting up, and, on his bended knee, He handed to his lord a parchment scroll. The letter thus began: "O husband mine, Why sendest thou such pert and graceless knights, That take thy manor for a roadside inn, And in the dead of night clip Kumbra's locks?" Thereon, in sprightly style, the wife then wrote All that had taken place the day before. And Janko, as he read, began to laugh. Then, turning to his friend: "Sir Knight," quoth he, "Have henceforth greater care of thine own head, Which now, by right and law, belongs to me. Beware of woman, for the wisest man Has not the keenness of a maiden's eye. Come, now, I pledge thy health in foaming wine, For this, indeed, hath been a merry joke."

  The greater part of the night was passed in drinking and in listeningto the bard's songs. Little by little sleepiness and the fumes of thewine overpowered each single man, so that in the small hours almostall the guests were stretched on the mats that strewed the floor,fast asleep.

  On the morrow the twenty-four men of the jury went, all in a body, toVranic's house. They sat down in state and listened to the tale ofthe brothers' grievances, whilst they sipped very inferior_slivovitz_ and gravely smoked their long pipes. When the tailorended the oft-repeated story of his grief and grievances, then theywent back to Bellacic's house, where they gave ear to all theextenuating circumstances which Radonic brought forward to exculpatehimself. After the culprit had finished, the twenty-four men sat downin council, and discussed again the matter which had been settled theevening before.

  A slight, but choice, repast was served to them; and Radonic tookcare that no fault could be found with the wine, for he feared thatthey might, in their soberer senses, change their mind and reversetheir opinion.

  The dinner had been cooked to perfection, the wine was of the best,the arguments Radonic had brought forward to clear himself wereconvincing--even the four that had been wavering the evening beforewere quite for him now. The majority of these men were married, andjealous of their honour; the others were going to marry, and wereeven more jealous than the married men. If Radonic could not beabsolved entirely, still he could hardly be condemned.

  Thus the day passed in much useless talking and discussing, and nightcame on. At sundown the guests began to pour in, and soon the housewas crowded. A deputation was then sent to the Vranic family to begthem to come to the feast. The tailor at first demurred; but beingpressed he yielded, and came with his brother.

  The evening began with the _Karva-Kolo_, or the blood-dance. It isvery like the usual _Kolo_, only the music, especially in thebeginning, is a kind of funeral march, or a dirge; soon the movementgets brisker, until it changes into the usual _Kolo_ strain. Theorchestra that evening was a choice one; it consisted of two_guzlas_, a _dipla_ or bag-pipe, and a _sfiraliza_ or Pan'sseven-reeded flute. Later on there was even a triangle, which keptadmirable time.

  A couple of dancers began, another joined in, and so on, until thecircle widened, and then all the people who were too lazy to dancehad either to leave the room or stand close against the wall, so asnot to be in the way. Just when the dance had reached its height, andthe men were twirling the girls about as in the mazy evolutions ofthe cotillon, Radonic, who had kept aloof, burst into the room. Amoment of confusion ensued, the dancers stopped, the middle of theroom was cleared, the music played again a low dirge. The guilty manstood alone, abashed; around his neck, tied to a string, he wore thedagger with which he mig
ht have stabbed Vranic had he not throttledhim.

  As soon as he appeared two of the twenty-four arbitrators, who hadbeen on the look-out for him, rushed and seized him. Then, feigning agreat wrath, they dragged him towards Vranic, as if they had justcaptured him and brought him to be tried.

  "Drag that murderer away, cast him out of the house; or, rather,leave him to me. Let me kill him."

  "Forgive me," exclaimed Radonic.

  "Down upon him!" cried Vranic.

  The arbitrators thereupon made the culprit bow down so low that hishead nearly touched the floor; then all the assembly uttered a deepsigh, or rather, a wail, craving--in the name of the Almighty and ofgood St. John--forgiveness for the guilty man.

  "Forgiveness," echoed Radonic, for the third time.

  The dancers, who had again begun to walk in rhythmic step around theroom, forming a kind of _chassez-croisez_, stopped, and the musicdied away in a low moan.

  There was a moment of eager theatrical expectation. The murderedman's brother seemed undecided as to what he had to do; at last,after an inward struggle, he yielded to his better feelings, andgoing up to Radonic, he took him by the hand, lifted him up andkissed him on his forehead.

  A sound of satisfaction, like a sigh of relief, passed through theassembly; but then Vranic said, in a voice which he tried to rendersweet and soft:

  "Listen, all of you. This man, who has hitherto been my bitterestenemy, has now become my friend; nay, more than my friend, my verybrother, and not to me alone, but to all who were related to mybeloved brother. All shall forego every wish or idea of revenge, nowand hereafter."

  Thereupon, taking a very small silver coin, he cut it in two, gaveRadonic half, and kept the other for himself, as a pledge of thefriendship he had just sworn.

  When peace had been restored, and everybody had drunk to Radonic'sand Vranic's health, then the _Starescina_, or the oldest arbitrator,whose judgment was paramount, stood up and made a speech, in which heuttered the decision of the jury and the sentence of the _karvarina_,that is to say, that, taking into consideration all the extenuatingcircumstances under which the murder had been committed, Radonic wasto pay to Vranic the sum of a silver Maria Theresa dollar, the usualprice of a goat.

  "What!" cried the tailor, in a fit of unsuppressed rage; "do you meanto say that my brother's life was only worth that of a goat?"

  A slight, subdued tittering was heard amongst the crowd; for, indeed,it was almost ludicrous to see the little man, pale, trembling andalmost green with rage.

  "No," quoth the umpire, gravely; "I never said that your brother'slife was worth that of a whole herd or of a single goat; the pricethat we, arbitrators named by you, have condemned Radonic to pay is asilver dollar. Put yourself in the murderer's place, and tell us whatyou would have done."

  Vranic shrugged his shoulders scornfully.

  "We do not appeal to you alone, but to any man of honour, to any IugoSlav, to any husband of the Kotar. What would he have done to a manwho, pretending to be his friend, came by stealth, in the middle ofthe night, into his home to----"

  "Then," cried Vranic, in that shrill, womanish voice peculiar to allhis family, "it is not my brother that ought to have been killed. Washe to blame if he was enticed----"

  "What do you mean?" cried Radonic, clasping the haft of the dagger,which he ought to have given up to Vranic.

  "Silence!" said the umpire: "you forget that you have promised tolove----"

  "If you intend to speak of Milena," said Bellacic, interrupting thejudge, "you must remember that the evening upon which your brotherwas killed she was spending the evening----"

  "At your house? No!" said Vranic, with a scornful laugh, shrugginghis shoulders again.

  "Come, come," said one of the jury; "let's settle the _karvarina_."

  "Besides," added another arbitrator, ingenuously, "Radonic has beenput to the expense of more than fifty goats. Until now, no man hasever----"

  "Oh, I see!" interrupted the tailor, with a withering sneer; "he hasbribed the few friends my poor brother had, so now even those haveturned against him."

  Oaths, curses, threats were uttered by the twenty-four men, and theyounger and more hasty ones instinctively sought the handles of theirdaggers.

  "Gentlemen," said Bellacic, "supper is ready; the two men have swornto be friends----"

  "I've sworn nothing at all," muttered the tailor, between his teeth.

  "Let us sit down," continued the master of the house, "and try toforget our present quarrels; we'll surely come to a betterunderstanding when cakes flowing with honey and sweet wine arebrought on the table."

  They now carried in for the feast several low, stool-like tables,serving both as boards and dishes. On each one there was a wholeroasted lamb, resting on a bed of rice. Every guest took out hisdagger and carved for himself the piece he liked best or the one hecould easiest reach, and which he gnawed, holding the bone as ahandle, if there was one, or using the flat, pancake-like bread--the_chupatti_ of the Indians, the flap-jacks of the Turks--as plates.Soon the wooden _bukaras_ were handed around, and then all ill-humourwas drowned in the heady wine of the rich Dalmatian soil. After thelambs and rice, big sirloins of beef and huge tunny-fish followed insuccession, then game, and lastly, pastry and fruit.

  After more than two hours of eating and drinking, with interludes ofsinging and shouting, the meal at last came to an end. The gentlemenof the jury, whose brains had been more or less muddled from the daybefore, were now, almost without any exception, quite drunk. As forthe guests, some were jovial and boisterous, others tender andsentimental. Radonic's face was saturnine; Markovic, who was alwaysloquacious, and who spoke in Italian when drunk, was making a longspeech that had never had a beginning and did not seem to come to anend; and the worst of it was that, during the whole time, he claspedtightly one of the _bukaras_, and would not relinquish his hold ofit.

  As for Vranic and his younger brother, they had both sunk down on thefloor sulky and silent. The more they ate and drank, the moreweazened and wretched they looked, and the expression of malice ontheir angry faces deepened their wrinkles into a fiendish scowl.

  "I think," said the elder brother, "it is time all this was over, andthat we should be going."

  "Going?" exclaimed all the guests who heard it. "And where do youwant to go?"

  "Oh, if he isn't comfortable, let him go!" said one of thearbitrators. "I'm sure I don't want to detain him; his face isn't sopleasant to look at that we should beg him to stay--no, nor hiscompany either."

  "Oh, I daresay you would like to get rid of me, all of you!"

  "Well, then, shall we wind up this business?" said the judge of the_karvarina_, putting his hand on Radonic's shoulder.

  "I am quite ready," said he.

  Thereupon he drew forth his leather purse and took out several MariaTheresa dollars.

  "Shall we make it five instead of one?" he asked, spreading out thenew and shining coins on his broad palm. "Now, tell me, tailor, if Iam niggardly with my money?" he added, handing the sum to Vranic.

  The tailor seized the dollars and clenched his fist; then, with ascowl:

  "I don't want any of your charity," he hissed out in a shrill treble."Five are almost worth six goats, and my brother is worth but one.Here, take your money back; distribute it among the arbitrators, towhom you have been so generous. No, _heyduk_, you are not niggardly;but, then, what are a few dollars to you? a shot of your gun and yourpurse is full. Thanks all the same, I only want my due. No robber'scharity for me." And with these words he flung the five dollars inRadonic's face.

  The sharp edge of one of the coins struck Radonic on the corner ofthe eye, just under the brow, and the blood trickled down. All hisdrunkenness vanished, his gloomy look took a fierce expression, andwith a bound he was about to seize his antagonist by the throat andstrangle him as he had done his brother; but Vranic, who was on hisguard, lifted up the knife he had received from the murderer a fewhours before, and quick as lightning struck him a blow on his breast.r />
  "This is my _karvarina_," said he; "tooth for tooth, eye for eye,blood for blood."

  The blow had been aimed at Radonic's heart, but he parried it andreceived a deep gash in the fore-part of his arm.

  A scuffle at once ensued; some of the less drunken men threwthemselves on Vranic, others on Radonic.

  "Sneak, traitor, coward!" shouted the chief arbitrator, strikingVranic in the face and almost knocking him down; "how dare you dosuch a thing after having begged us to settle the _karvarina_ foryou?"

  "And you've settled it nicely, indeed; gorged with his meat, drunkwith his wine, and your purses filled with his money."

  "Liar!" shouted the men of the jury.

  "Out of my house, you scorpion, and never cross its threshold again."

  "I go, and I'm only too glad to be rid of you all;--but as for you,"said Vranic to Bellacic, "had it not been for you, all this would nothave happened."

  "What have I to do with it?"

  "Did you not come to beg me to make it up? But I suppose you wereanxious to have the whole affair hushed up as quickly as possible."

  "Fool!" answered Bellacic.

  "Oh, Milena is not always at your house for nothing!"

  "What did he say?" asked Radonic, trying to break away from the handsof the men who were holding him, and from Mara Bellacic, who wasbandaging up his wound.

  "What do you care what he said?" replied Bellacic; "his slander onlyfalls back upon himself, just as if he were spitting in the wind; itcan harm neither you nor Milena."

  "Oh, we shall meet again!" cried Radonic.

  "We shall certainly meet, if ever you escape the Turkish gallows, orthe Austrian prisons."

  And as he uttered these last words, he disappeared in the darkness ofthe road.