The shady nooks and corners, the turns in the crooked
streets, the dark archways of old inns, the swinging signs with their
rich deep colour and Gothic characters, the projecting balconies,
glazed with round bull's eyes of blown glass set in heavy lead, the
marvellously wrought weathercocks of iron and gold on the corners of
the houses, every outward detail of the time-honoured and time-mellowed
town spoke to his heart in accents he not only understood but loved.
Even the modern note did not jar upon him. There were few officers in
the streets, few soldiers in bright uniforms. Occasionally a troop of
white cuirassiers rode slowly through the main thoroughfare, looking
more like mediaeval knights than Prussian soldiers. Their enormous
stature, their bronzed faces, their snow-white dress and gleaming
corslets, the stately, solemn tramp of their great horses, their
straight broad blades without curve or bend erect at their sides, all
made them utterly unlike the ordinary soldiery of present times, and
rendered their appearance perfectly harmonious with their surroundings.
Even the students in their long boots and coloured caps did not look
modern, as they strolled along in knots of three and four from the
University to the mess at dinner-time, or thronged the pavements of the
high street towards evening, when the purple light was on the cathedral
spires and the shadows were deepening below.
Greif loved it all, and to some extent his affection was returned.
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