“Ah! you want me to talk politics,” he laughed, raising his hand with the fine diamond upon it. “No. I make a rule never to do so. One of our chief faults in Servia is that we gossip too much upon politics. You have noticed that, I daresay, in the cafés, in the Legations, and elsewhere—eh? All we Servians are the same—in Montenegro, in Bosnia, and elsewhere. It is always so with a young nation. The future of Servia will, I fervently hope, be one of peace and prosperity. It shall be my most earnest endeavour to secure this for my people, so that Servia may prove to Europe that she does not now merit the hard things said of her in the past.” His Majesty, after we had chatted about Florence, a city which I found he knew quite well, then told me a very interesting fact. “We have here, in Servia,” he said, “a most wonderful cure for rheumatism—the Ribarska Banya. I only tell you what happened personally to me. During the Russo-Turkish War I contracted acute rheumatism, and have been a martyr to it ever since. I visited every watering-place in Europe, but none of the so-called “cures” did me any good. Two years ago, with some reluctance, I went to Ribarska and took the cure, and from that moment I have never since been troubled. It was miraculous! With my own eyes I saw a poor woman wheeled there entirely crippled, and twenty days later I saw her commencing to walk. I would not have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes.” For an hour and a half we chatted upon many things—of London, of Paris, of Rome, of Vienna—for His Majesty is essentially an up-to-date man of the world, as well as a monarch. Sincere and yet humorous, kindly and yet with a hauteur that well befits his military bearing, he struck me as a man well adapted to rule the Servian nation—a man who is thoroughly in earnest, and is doing his level best for the future of his nation. “We want no external troubles,” he declared to me. “We want to be allowed to progress.” And when I took my leave His Majesty grasped my hand warmly, saying, “I hope, M’sieur N——, you will return to Servia often, and remember that whenever you are in Belgrade I shall always be happy to give you audience and have another chat with you. _Bon soir._” I bowed. The long white doors opened noiselessly by an unseen hand, and His Majesty was gone. Next day an aide-de-camp brought me the autographed portrait which appears in these pages, together with a very kindly message from His Majesty. Not only did I endeavour to learn the truth at the royal palace, but I went among the people in various towns in Servia, making inquiries, and I found on every hand that Servia was pleased and satisfied with her new ruler.