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He had been drinking to the health of the bride. He thumped himself on the brow with his closed fist. "Sacred-name-of-a-thunderstorm," he said. "Where have I seen that face before?" Sebastian went out by the Frauenthor to the quay. Although it was dusk, the granaries were still at work.

"Dear D'Artagnan," said the prelate, "my friendship resembles, in a degree, the solicitude of that night watch whom we have in the little tower of the mole, at the extremity of the quay. That brave man, every night, lights a lantern to direct the barks that come from sea.

This seemed to amuse him mightily, for he gave way to a quiet and very peculiar laugh, which I heard as I passed on towards the ship. There was a plank placed from the quay to the deck of the ship, and by means of it I stepped on board the Black Swan. No one took any notice of me, so that I had time to look about me.

The quay was crowded with porters, all vociferating and struggling to get hold of parcels to carry, while the commissionaires from the hotels were more than ever eager in their recommendations of their respective houses: their noise and gesticulations were so great, and their requests urged with so much boldness, that we might have been led to suppose we had fallen into the hands of banditti, who would plunder us the moment they got us into their clutches.

On reaching the quay, he pressed the student's hand with grateful warmth, but dared not trust to words. On the deck of the steamer, assisting Thompson to arrange the portmanteaux, stood Pietro Molini. The natural gaiety of the old driver had received a considerable check at George's death.

"Why, Major Vaughan, to be sure. The only wonder is that he hasn't drunk himself to death by this time been at it years enough!" Derrick turned, as though to shelter himself from the curious eyes of the travellers; but everywhere the quay was crowded.

Yet I could potter about an ancient hooker or a tramp steamer all day, when I wouldn't cross a quay to a great battleship. I like the pungent smells of these old craft, just as I inhale the health and odour of fir woods.

On the quay we find ourselves in a great crowd of grey uniformed soldiers, many of them mere lads, carrying their kit, and drawn up in lines waiting their turn to march on board the towering troopship anchored alongside, while some of them wind up the gangway like a great grey snake.

One always knows when the fishing-boats are arriving by the crowd that assembles on the quay; that peculiar population that seems natural to all ports, young, able-bodied sailors, full of interest about the run and the cargo old men in blue jerseys who sit on the wall, in the sun, all day, and recount their experiences various officials with gold bands on their caps, men with hand carts waiting to carry off the fish and fishwives their baskets strapped on their backs hoping for a haul of crabs and shrimps or fish from some of the small boats.

Every temple and palace was transformed into a giant candelabrum, and the rows of lamps on the quay stretched like tendrils of light from the dazzlingly illuminated marble Temple of Poseidon to the palace at Lochias, steeped in radiance.