“You know,” explained the doctor, “the life of a woman is sacred; should a woman by the greatest accident shoot a man, the vendetta falls on her husband—­she may not be touched; or, should a woman be killed in a vendetta, even by the merest accident, the shame would be unspeakable.  The murderers and their families, or even their clan, would be blotted out, for in such revenge all would join.  Keco’s wife never leaves his side after dusk, and, you see, she has saved his life once already within his knowledge; who knows how often unawares?”

“Tell us the origin of thy blood-guiltiness,” said we.  Dr. S. had told us the story, but we wished to hear it from his lips.

“I had a cow which was my pride,” went on Keco.  “She yielded more milk than any other cow and of a far better quality.  Men praised the milk and the cheese when I took it to the market in Podgorica for sale, and none more than Achmet, a Turk from Dinos.

“One morning I went to milk my cow, and could find her nowhere.  My most treasured possession was gone.  I searched for her all that day and the next on the mountain sides, but in vain.  On the next market day as I wandered gloomily across the market-place of Podgorica, Achmet, the Turk, accosted me.

“‘Where is thy milk?’ he asked, ’which is so wonderful, and where are thy marvellous cheeses?’

“I replied that I knew not, and would have passed on.

“‘Make thy mind easy,’ continued Achmet, an evil smile spreading over his face, ‘for I have thy cow.’

“‘Ah! she has strayed across the border,’ I cried.  ’Thank God she is found.’

“‘She strayed across the border,’ said Achmet, ’but under my guidance.  Thou hast not lied.  Her milk is indeed of the good quality that thou hast boasted.  For a Christian dog like thee she is far too good.’

“To this hour I wonder that I did not strike him dead.  My rage rendered me powerless to move or see.  It was as if a black cloud descended over my eyes.  When I recovered, Achmet was gone.

“For many weeks I went to the Law Court whenever I visited the market, demanding the restitution of my cow by legal means, and each time was I put off by answers and promises.  And Achmet was always on the market-place taunting me with tales of the cow and her calf.  For she had calved.  But the law is strict, and I never dared shoot him whilst in the town, and this the coward knew.

“When I saw that I should get no help from the law, I took two men from this village.  They are here in this room,” he said, pointing to two men seated near us.  “And one morning I went across to Dinos.  I did not go at night, like the thief, but when the sun was highest, and when all could see me.  I left my comrades outside Achmet’s house, and went in alone.  There I found my cow and her calf, but only the women were present.  So I drove the cow and the calf out of the door towards my comrades.  Then, lest any should think that