Jo withdrew a tiny pair of stockings—­a marvel of knitting in many coloured patterns.

“What about these?” she said.

“Hast thou children?”

“No; but how much?” said Jo.

The price was four piastres.  Jo gave four groschen and the old woman peered anxiously at the money in her palm.

“It is too much,” she said.

Pavlovitch explained that somehow four groschen worked out to more than four piastres; but we left her to calculate what fractions of a centime she had gained.

Our old innkeeper looked very truculent when we entered.

“Are you going to lunch here?”

“No; we left word.”

“Then you can’t stay here.”

[Illustration:  IN THE BAZAAR OF IPEK.]

[Illustration:  STREET COFFEE SELLER IN IPEK.]

We pointed out that her meals were bad and very dear.  She retaliated by making a fearful noise, and invited us to go and sleep at the Europe; but we remembered the Archbishop’s story and stood firm.

“If you don’t leave us in peace we will appeal to the Governor.”

“Do, do.  Go to the Governor,” said the old lady, her little girl, a wry-mouthed charwoman and a little boy whom Jo had noticed stealing our cigarettes.  The dog joined in and barked vociferously.

We went to the Governor who was near by.  “They don’t understand innkeeping here, and she is a drunken old slut,” he said, and sent for her husband.

We went defiantly again to the Europe for lunch.

Jo had been expressing her wish to Pavlovitch to visit a harem.  He came to tell us that it had been arranged, as the chief of the police was a friend of his, and he had asked a rich Moslem to let her visit his wives.  The Moslem had graciously assented, saying that he would do it as a great favour to the chief of the police, and that no “European” woman had ever visited an Ipek harem.

We went down the broad street with its brilliant houses, admiring the gaudy colours of the women’s trousers.  “What a pity,” we said, “that such a word as loud was invented in the English language.”

Outside a huge doorway were sitting the chief of police and the wealthy Albanian.  We were introduced with great ceremony, and the Moslem, losing no time, took Jo through the doorway into a courtyard.  At the end was another door guarded by a responsible-looking Albanian.  He stood aside, and she entered another court full of trees and a basket-work hut.  She passed through the lower story, which was full of grain, and ascended into a beautiful room with a seat built all round it.

It was entirely furnished with carpets.  He waved his hand to the seat, called to his wives much as a sportsman summons his dogs, and left.

They came in, three women, simply dressed in chemise and flowered cotton bloomers.  Their voices were shaking with excitement, and they were fearfully upset because Jo got up to shake hands with them.