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Updated: May 10, 2025
He was handsome, shy, and kindly, said we must go to Dechani the most famous of Balkan monasteries, and promised us a cart for the journey. After leaving the governor we plunged into melodrama. Hearing a noise we discovered crowds of weeping women and children round the steps of a shop.
"Sire," said I, "it was your Montenegrins who made me do it." He made no reply to this, but lamented that for him such a tour was out of the question. And of all things he desired to see the Patriarchia at Ipek and the Church of Dechani and the relics of the Sveti Kralj. He had been told I had secured photographs of these places. If so, would I give him copies?
The horses reminded one of the sleek mares owned by old ladies who lived in awe of their coachmen. For this all belonged to Dechani, and it was beyond the power of the state to touch their riches; nor had they been molested even in the days of Turkish rule. "You see, monastery 'e pay money to the toughest Albanians Albanian they give besa and nobody never do no 'arm to the monasteries.
Russia she send much money, she send always her priest to Dechani and the Turks they keep sorter respectful." Our first sight of Dechani disappointed us a little, the proportions lacked the beauty of the Ipek church; but the big old door marked by the fire the Turks had built against it, decades before, cheered us up a bit.
Nikola Pavlovitch was, though not an officer, the commandant of a contingent of miners from America. The governor had told him also to offer himself as cicerone for the morrow, the cart having been ordered for our trip to Dechani. We didn't like cicerones and demurred. "I kin talk for you," he said. But we owned to speaking Serb.
It was the whole Russian mission from Dechani. We proceeded along the corridor, and ran into two men. We mutually began to apologize. "Hello," we said, "how did you get here?" They were two Americans we had met in Salonika. We got our seats and went out of the train by the other door. As we passed the compartment we saw a familiar face. It was the little French courier.
G. was also in the town, and that the others were all coming shortly. Then we met a young staff officer from Uzhitze, who was noted for his bravery. The train came in and we stumbled up to it in the dark. There was a crowd of women about the steps in difficulty with heavy bags. Jan ran forward to help one. She turned round. It was a sister from Dechani. The rest turned round.
A parchment document, which extended to twice the length of a man, was now unrolled, and proved to be a patent of Stephan Urosh, the father of Stephan Dushan, endowing the great convent of Dechani, in Albania. Another curiosity in the collection is the first banner of Kara Georg, which the Servians consider as a national relic.
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