If he went to the Rathskeller it was on the invitation of a friend;
for he could not afford to pay the vintage of that cellar, though he
drank the wine with the slow mouthing of a connoisseur when he had
it.

More often than not he took a walk first, passing out of the
Frauenthor on to the quay, where he turned to left or right and made
his way back through one or other of the town gates, by devious
narrow streets to that which is still called the Portchaisengasse
though chairs and carriers have long ceased to pass along it. Here,
on the northern side of the street is an old inn, "Zum weissen
Ross'l," with a broken, ill-carved head of a white horse above the
door. Across the face of the house is written, in old German
letters, an invitation:

Gruss Gott. Tritt ein!
Bring Gluck herein.

But few seemed to accept it. Even a hundred years ago the White
Horse was behind the times, and fashion sought the wider streets.

Antoine Sebastian was perhaps ashamed of frequenting so humble a
house of entertainment, where for a groschen he could have a glass
of beer. He seemed to make his way through the narrower streets for
some purpose, changing his route from day to day, and hurrying
across the wider thoroughfares with the air of one desirous to
attract but little attention. He was not alone in the quiet
streets, for there were many in Dantzig at this time who from wealth
had fallen to want. Many counting-houses once noisy with prosperity