moreover, are a thrifty race and keep their money in a safe place; a
habit which was to cost many of them their lives before the coming
of another June.

The marriage service was a long one and not exhilarating. Through
the open door came no sound of organ or choir, but the deep and
monotonous drawl of one voice. There had been no ringing of bells.
The north countries, with the exception of Russia, require more than
the ringing of bells or the waving of flags to warm their hearts.
They celebrate their festivities with good meat and wine consumed
decently behind closed doors.

Dantzig was in fact under a cloud. No larger than a man's hand,
this cloud had risen in Corsica forty-three years earlier. It had
overshadowed France. Its gloom had spread to Italy, Austria, Spain;
had penetrated so far north as Sweden; was now hanging sullen over
Dantzig, the greatest of the Hanseatic towns, the Free City. For a
Dantziger had never needed to say that he was a Pole or a Prussian,
a Swede or a subject of the Czar. He was a Dantziger. Which is
tantamount to having for a postal address a single name that is
marked on the map.

Napoleon had garrisoned the Free City with French troops some years
earlier, to the sullen astonishment of the citizens. And Prussia
had not objected for a very obvious reason. Within the last
fourteen months the garrison had been greatly augmented. The clouds
seemed to be gathering over this prosperous city of the north,
where, however, men continued to eat and drink, to marry and to be
given in marriage as in another city of the plain.