It was far in the night when we arrived at Krushevatz. The Natchalnik
was waiting with lanterns, and gave us a hearty welcome. As I went
upstairs his wife kissed my hand, and I in sport wished to kiss her's;
but the Natchalnik said, "We still hold to the old national custom,
that the wife kisses the hand of a stranger." Our host was a
fair-haired man, with small features and person, a brisk manner and
sharp intelligence, but tempered by a slight spice of vanity. The
_tout ensemble_ reminded me of the Berlin character.
_Natchalnik_. "I am afraid that, happy as we are to receive such
strangers as you, we are not sufficiently acquainted with the proper
ceremonies to be used on the occasion."
_Author_. "The stranger must conform to the usage of the country, not
the country to the standard of the stranger. I came here to see the
Servians as they are in their own nature, and not in their imitations
of Europe. In the East there is more ceremony than in the West; and if
you go to Europe you will be surprised at the absence of ceremonious
compliments there."
_Natchalnik_.
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