“I wonder if I dare ask your Royal Highness to write a few lines for me as a souvenir of my visit?” I asked, not without some trepidation. “Ah!—well—I won’t promise,” he laughed. “All depends whether I’m in the mood for it.” “But you will try, won’t you?” And the Prince nodded assent. Then we spoke of Servia and of recent events there; but he was not inclined to discuss the question, and naturally so, when it is remembered that his daughter was the late wife of King Peter. [Illustration: The Petroleum tins of Cettinje.] [Illustration: The Monastery: Cettinje.] Returning to the burning question of Macedonia, I saw that he was well informed of all that was transpiring around lakes Presba and Ochrida and down in Serres. “It is a monstrous state of affairs,” he declared. “Something must be done at once, for as soon as spring comes again the massacres will increase.” “But there are outrages, tortures, and massacres every day,” I remarked. “Ah yes,” he sighed, “I know. Most terrible details have reached me lately. But you are going to Macedonia yourself, and you will see with your own eyes.” “And what, in your opinion, would be the best settlement of the question?” I inquired. “There is but one way, namely, for the Powers to call a conference and place Macedonia under a governor-general, who must be a European prince. The reforms would then be carried out, and the Greek bands expelled from the country. How long will Europe tolerate the present frightful state of affairs?” “The fact is, Monseigneur, that we, in England, are very ignorant of the true state of things, or even of the facts of the Macedonian question,” I said. “Ah, there you are quite correct. If your English public knew what was really happening—how an innocent Christian population is being slaughtered and exterminated because of international rivalry—they would cry shame upon those responsible for this wholesale murder and outrage. But”—he smiled—“I almost forget myself. My position as a ruler forbids me to talk politics, you know!” And we laughed together. “So you are going to Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, and to Constantinople—eh?” he remarked a little later, when we had lit fresh cigarettes. “In Bulgaria, and also in Roumania, you will see many things that will interest you. The Bulgarians are very strongly armed, and so are the Roumanians.” “Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania has also promised me audience,” I said. “When you see her, will you please present to Her Majesty my most cordial respects. She is so very charming.” “I want, Monseigneur, to visit Northern Albania, leaving Montenegro by Ryeka and Scutari. Would that be the best route, do you think?” “What!” he exclaimed, in surprise. “Do you actually contemplate visiting the tribes up in the Accursed Mountains?” “Certainly. Why not?”