influence among her Southern Slav subjects. Henceforth the Viennese Foreign Office concentrated its efforts on the destruction of Serbia at all costs. First of all Serbia was confronted with a demand for such trade concessions as would render her economically dependent upon Austria, and the next commercial treaty was to have placed Austria in the position of a “most favoured nation.” In politics Austria had recourse to the invention of the spectre of a “Greater Serbia,”—an idea which hitherto had merely possessed intellectual significance, and whose representatives were a few hot-heads quite unconnected with Serbian official policy. To make this new propaganda convincing Austria employed a large number of _agents provocateurs_, whose masterpiece appears to have been the attempt upon the Archduke Francis Ferdinand at Serajevo, June 28th, 1914. Truly, when all the side-issues are taken into account, it seems more than likely that the _attempt_ at least was staged by Austrian agents. Was the assassination merely an accident?[14] It is to be feared that this is one of the unhappy mysteries which will never be fully cleared up. CHAPTER VII. MONTENEGRO. The Country of the Black Mountain—Women Warriors—King, Poet and Farmer—Historical Sketch of Montenegro—Petar I., Petrović—Petar II.—Pro-Russian Policy—A Royal Poet—Nikola I. All I have said about Serbia applies equally to Montenegro. The nations are one and the same: they are identical in every respect and only geographically divided. Montenegro is the Serbian advance guard on the Adriatic. It is the eagle’s nest of Europe, the loftiest symbol of freedom and independence. Nature herself has given this people an impregnable fortress, and placed in their hands the keys of Southern Slav liberty. From the height of their barren Black Mountains the valiant high-spirited Montenegrin has looked down for centuries on the rise and fall of his kinsmen all around him. In all the tragedies that have passed in the shadow of his eyrie he has played his part, both as dauntless warrior, and the bard of freedom who from his mountain heights sang the song of the future to his enslaved brothers. The Montenegrin has always been the same. In war-time he is a warrior, in times of peace a shepherd armed to the teeth. He is inseparable from his weapons, but only uses them against his enemies. Though his aspect is martial and his glance fierce, he bears a kindly, loveable heart. Comparing his outward appearance with his soul, one might call him a lion with the heart of a dove. A friend, whoever he may be, is welcomed with open arms, and his rough, powerful hand can be gently caressing as a child’s. But an enemy will be crushed by its weight; for the Montenegrin _hates_ his foe, hates him passionately, fiercely and implacably, and he is ever on the watch for him. Even at tender age the children are decked with weapons and have to learn the use of them under the eyes of their elders. And the enemy is always the