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Updated: May 21, 2025
Dobri Petroff immediately disappeared in the opposite direction. At a later hour that night he entered the cottage of young Borronow. Giuana, Petko's sister, reclined on a rude but comfortable couch. She was singularly pretty and innocent-looking, but very delicate and young. Her friends called her Formosa Giuana or Pretty Jane.
So there I stood, with uplifted spade in hand, until the lady had finished her picture, and then she released me with a "Merci, mon garçon!" and I, hardly able to keep my composure, answered in Slav, "Dobri nocz, mladi panyicska," which means "Good night, miss!"
Before finally bidding adieu to the Petroff family, I had many a talk with Dobri on the subject of war as we wandered sadly about the ruined village.
While we were still engaged in questioning each other, I noticed that the countenance of our friend the scout wore an anxious and almost impatient expression. "Anything wrong, Dobri?" I inquired. "God knows!" he replied in a solemn tone, which impressed me much.
"Ha!" exclaimed Dobri, with a fierce look; "we can succour " "No, no, no," interrupted the man: with a strange mixture of horror and fury in his blood-streaked face; "too late! too late!" He raised his head, stammered as if attempting to say more, then, lifting both arms aloft, while the outspread fingers clutched the air, uttered an appalling cry, and fell flat on the ground.
To my inquiries, the shopman replied that Dobri was the blacksmith of the place, and one of its best and steadiest workmen. After completing my purchases I left, and strolled through the village towards its further extremity. "The Turks seem to 'ave it all their own way ere, sir," said Lancey, as we walked along.
After detailing a good many of his adventures, and referring me to the pages of the EI for the remainder of his opinions on things in general, he went on, "By the way, in passing through Bulgaria lately, I fell in with your friend Dobri Petroff, the celebrated scout of the Balkan army. He and his pretty wife send their love, and all sorts of kind messages which I totally forget.
When the tables were removed, Yaroslav Lasarevich stood up, praying to the ikons of the Saints, and took leave of his father and the Tsar Kartaus. All present followed him with their tears, and entreated him not to leave them, but he mounted his horse, and making his bow, rode off towards the city of Dobri, in the kingdom of the Tsar Vorcholomei, to see the beauty of the Princess Anastasia.
"Why, where did you come from?" asked the scout in Turkish, which he was aware Lancey had been attempting to learn. "Dobri, my friend," replied the other solemnly, in English, "if this is a dream, it is the most houtrageous dream that I've 'ad since I was a babby. But I'm used to 'em now only I do wish it was morning."
"But, Dobri, why? what? "Petko, no questions. More than that, no remarks," interrupted the scout earnestly and firmly. "Another time I will explain. At present I ask you to trust, believe, and obey your friend. If you would save your life and that of Giuana leave this village within an hour. Go where you will, but leave it."
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