Buddenbrooks_ The Decline Of A Family Part 2

April 30, 1846 MY DEAR MAMMA,.

A thousand thanks for your letter, in which you tell me of Armgard von Schilling's betrothal to Herr von Maiboom of Pbppenrade. Armgard herself sent me an invitation (very fine, with a gilt edge), and also a letter in which she expresses herself as enchanted with her bridegroom. He sounds like a very handsome and refined man. How happy she must be! Everybody is getting married. I have had a card from Munich too, from Eva Ewers. I hear she's getting a director of a brewery. Now I must ask you something, dearest Mamma: Why do I hear nothing of a visit from the Buddenbrooks? Are you waiting for ah official invitation from Gr*? If so, it isn't necessary; and besides, when I remind him to ask you, he says, "Yes, yes, child, your Father has something else to do." Or do you think you would be disturbing me? Dh, dear me, no; quite the contrary! Perhaps you think you would make me homesick again? But don't you know I am a reasonable woman, already middle-aged and experienced? I've just been to coffee at Madame Kaselau's, a neighbour of mine. They are pleasant people, and our left-hand neigh-bours, the Gussmanns (but there is a good deal of s.p.a.ce be-tween the houses) are sociable people too. We have two friends who are at the house a good deal, both of whom live out here: Doctor Klaasen, of whom I must tell you more later, and Kesselmeyer, the banker, Gr*'s intimate friend. You don't know what a funny old man he is. He has a stubbly white beard and thin black and white hair on his head, that looks like down and waves in the breeze. He makes funny motions with his head, like a bird, and talks all the time, so I call him the magpie, but Gr* has forbidden 173 B U D D E M B R O O K S me to say that, because magpies steal, and Heir Kesselmeyer is an honourable man. He stoops when he walks, and rows along with his arms. His fuzz only reaches half-way down his head in the back, and from there on his neck is all red and seamy. There is something so awfully sprightly about him! Sometimes he pats me on the cheek and says, "You good little wifey! what a blessing for Gr* that he has got you." Then he takes out his eye-gla.s.ses (he always wears three of them, on long cords, that are forever getting tangled up in his white waistcoat) and sticks them on his nose, which he wrinkles up to make them stop on, and looks at me with his mouth open, until I have to laugh, right in his face. But he takes no offence at that. Gr* is very busy; he drives into town in the morning in our little yellow wagon and often does not come back till late. Sometimes he sits down with me and reads the paper. When we go into society--for example, to Kesselmeyer's, or to Consul Goudstikker on the Alster Dam, or Senator Bock in City Hall Street--we have to take a hired coach. I have begged Driinliuh again and again to get a coupe, for it is really a necessity out here. He has half promised, but, strange to say, he does not like to go into society with rne and is evidently displeased when I visit people in the town. Do you suppose he is jealous? Our villa, which I've already described to you in detail, dear Mamma, is really very pretty, and is much prettier by reason of the new furnishings. You could not find a flaw in the upstairs sitting-room--all in brown silk. The dining-room next is prettily wainscoted. The chairs cost twenty-five marks apiece. I sit in the "pensee-rooni," which we use as a sitting-room. There is also a little room for smoking and playing cards. The salon, which takes up the whole other half of the parterre, has new yellow blinds now and looks very well. Above are the bed, bath, and dressing-rooms and the servants' quarters. We have a little groom for the yellow wagon. I am fairly well satisfied with the two maid-servants. I am not sure they are quite honest, but thank G.o.d I don't have to look after every kreuzer. In short, everything is really worthy of the family and the firm. And now, dear Mamma, comes the most important part of my letter, which I have kept till the last. A while ago I was feeling rather queer--not exactly ill and yet not quite well. I told Dr. Klaasen about it when I had the chance. He is a little bit of a man with a big head and a still bigger hat. He carries a cane with a flat round handle made of a piece of bone, and walks with it pressed against his whiskers, which are almost light-green from being dyed so many years. Well, you should have seen him! he did not answer my questions at all, but jerked his eye-gla.s.ses, twinkled his little eyes, wrinkled his nose at me--it looks like a potato--snickered, giggled, and stared so impertinently that I did not know what to do. Then he examined me, and said everything was going on well, only I must drink mineral water, because I am perhaps a little anaemic. Dh, Mamma, do tell Papa about it, so he can put it in the family book. I will write you again as soon as possible, you may be sure. Give my love to Papa, Christian, Clara, Clothilde and Ida Jungmann. I wrote to Thomas just lately.

Your dutiful daughter, ANTONIE.

August 2, 1845 MY DEAR THOMAS,.

I have read with pleasure the news of your meeting with Christian in Amsterdam. It must have been a happy few days for both of you. I have no word as yet of your brother's further journey to England via Dstende, but I hope that with G.o.d's mercy it has been safely accomplished. It may not be too late, since Christian has decided to give up a professional career, for him to learn much that is valuable from his chief, Mr. Richardson; may he prosper and find blessing in the mercantile line! Mr. Richardson, Threadneedle Street, is, as you know, a close business friend of our house; I consider myself lucky to have placed both my sons with such friendly-disposed firms. You are now experiencing the good result of such a policy; and I feel profound satisfaction that Heir van der Kellen has already raised your salary in the quarter 175 of a year you have been with him, and that he will continue to give you advancement. I am convinced that you have shown and will continue to show yourself, by your industry and good behaviour, worthy of these favours. I regret to hear that your health is not so good as it should be. What you write me of nervousness reminds me of my own youth, when I was working in Antwerp and had to go-to Ems to take a cure. If anything of the sort seems best for you, my son, I am ready to encourage you with advice and a.s.sistance, although I am avoiding such expense for the rest of us in these times of political unrest. However, your Mother and I took a trip to Hamburg in the middle of June to visit your sister Tony. Her husband had not invited us, but he received us with the greatest cor-diality and devoted himself to us so entirely during the two days of our visit, that he neglected his business and hardly left me time for a visit to Duchamps in the town. Antonie is in her fifth month, and her physician a.s.sures her that every-thing is going on in a normal and satisfactory way. I have still to mention a letter from Herr van der Kellen, from which I was pleased to learn that you are a favoured guest in his family circle. You are now, my son, at an age to begin to harvest the fruits of the upbringing your parents gave you. It may be helpful to you if I tell you that at your age, both in Antwerp and Bergen, I formed a habit of making myself useful and agreeable to my princ.i.p.als; and this was of the greatest service to me. Aside from the honour of a.s.sociation with the family of the head of the firm, one acquires an advocate in the person of the princ.i.p.al's wife; and she may prove invaluable in the undesirable contingency of an oversight at the office or the dissatisfaction of your chief for some slight cause or other. As regards your business plans for the future, my son, I rejoice in the lively interest they indicate, without being able entirely to agree with them. You start with the idea that the market for our native products--for instance, grain, rape-seed, hides and skins, wool, oil, oil-cake, bones, etc.--is our chief concern; and you think it would be of advantage for you to turn yourself to the commission branch of the busi-ness. I once occupied myself with these ideas, at a time when the compet.i.tion was small it has since distinctly increased), and I made some experiments in 'them. My journey to Eng-land had for its chief purpose to look out connections there for my undertakings. To this end I went as far as Scotland, and made many valuable acquaintances; but I soon recognized the precarious nature of an export trade hither, and decided to discourage further expansion in that direction. Thus I kept in mind the warning of our fore-father, the founder of the firm, which he bequeathed to us, his descendants: "My son, attend with zeal to thy business by day, but do none that hinders thee from thy sleep at night." This principle I intend to keep sacred, now as in the past, though one is sometimes forced to entertain a doubt, on con-templating the operations of people who seem to get on better without it. I am thinking of Strunk and Hagenstrom, who have made such notable progress while our own business seems almost at a stand-still. You know that the house has not enlarged its-business since the set-back consequent upon the death of your grandfather; and I pray to G.o.d that I shall be able to turn over the business to you in its present state. I have an experienced and cautious adviser in our head clerk Marcus. If only your Mother's family would hang on to their groschen a little belter! The inheritance is a matter of real importance for us. I am unusually full of business and civic work. I have been made alderman of the Board of the Bergen Line; also city deputy for the Finance Department, the Chamber of Commerce, the Auditing Commission, and the Almshouse of St. Anne, one after the other. Your Mother, Clara and Clothilde send greetings. Also several gentlemen--Senator Mb'llendorpf, Doctor Overdieck, Consul Kistenmaker, Gosch the broker, C. F. Kbppen, and Herr Marcus in the office, have asked to be remembered. G.o.d's blessing on you, my dear son. Work, pray, and save.

With affectionate regards, YOUR FATHER.

BUDDENBRD DKS.

October B, 1846 DEAR AND HONOURED PARENTS,.

The undersigned is overjoyed to be able to advise you D the happy accouchement, half an hour ago, of your daughter, my beloved wife Antunie. It is, by G.o.d's will, a daughter; I can find no words to express my joyful emotion. The health of the dear patient, as well as of the infant, is unexception-able. Dr. Klaaserj is entirely satisfied with the way things have gone; and Frau Grossgeorgis, the midwife, says it was simply nothing at all. Excitement obliges me to lay down my pen. I commend myself to my worthy parents with the most respectful affection. B. GRUNLICH. If it had been a boy, I had a very pretty name. As it is, I wanted to name her Met a, but Gr* is for Erica.

CHAPTER II.

"WHAT is the matter, Betsy?" said the Consul, as he came to the table and lifted up the plate with which his soup was covered. "Aren't you well? You don't look just right to me." The round table in the great dining-room was grown very small. Around it there gathered in these days, besides the parents, only little Clara, npw ten years old, Mamsell Jung-mann, and Clothilde, as humble, lean, and hungry as ever. The Consul looked about him: every face was long and gloomy. What had happened? He himself was troubled and anxious; for the Bourse was unsteady, owing to this complicated Schleswig-Holstein affair. And still another source of dis-quiet was in the air; when Anton had gone to fetch in the meat course, the Consul heard what had happened. Trina, the cook, who had never before been anything but loyal and dutiful to her mistress, had suddenly shown clear signs of revolt. To the Frau Consul's great vexation, she had been maintaining relations--a sort of spiritual affinity, it seemed--with the butcher's apprentice; and that man of blood must have influenced her political views in a most regrettable way. The Consul's wife had addressed some reproach to her in the matter of an unsuccessful sauce, and she had put her naked arms akimbo and delivered herself as follows: "You jus' wait, Frau Consul; 'tain1 goin' t' be much longer--there'll come another order inter the world. 'N' then I'll be sittin' on the sofa in a silk gownd, an' you'll be servin' me." Natu-rally, she received summary notice. The Consul shook his head. He himself had had similar troubles. The old porters and labourers were of course re-179 spectful enough, and had no notions in their heads; but sev-eral here and there among the young ones had shown by their bearing that the new spirit of revolt had entered into them. In the spring there had been a street riot, although a con-st.i.tution corresponding to the demands of the new time had already been drafted; which, a little later, despite the opposition of Lebrecht Kroger and other stubborn old gentlemen, be-came law by a decree of the Senate. The citizens met to-gether and representatives of the people were elected. But there was no rest. The world was upside down. Every one wanted to revise the const.i.tution and the franchise, and the citizens grumbled. "Voting by estates," said some--Consul Johann Buddenbrook among them. "Universal franchise," said the others; Heinrich Hagenstrb'm was one of these .5till others cried "Universal voting by estates"--and dear knew what they meant by that! All sorts of ideas were in the air; for instance, the abolition of disabilities and the general ex-tension of the rights of citizenship--even to non-Christians! No wonder Buddenbrook's Trina had imbibed such ideas about sofas and silk gowns! Oh, there was worse to come! Things threatened to take a fearful turn. It was an early [Jctober day of the year 1848. The sky was blue, with a few light floating clouds in it, silvered by the rays of the sun, the strength of which was indeed not so great but that the stove was already going, behind the polished screen in the landscape-room. Little Clara, whose hair had grown darker and whose eyes had a rather severe expression, sat with some embroidery before the sewing-table, while Clothilde, busy likewise with her needlework, had the sofa-place near the Frau Consul. Although Clothilde Buddenbrook was not much older than her married cousin--that is to say, only twenty-one years--her long face already showed p.r.o.nounced lines; and with her smooth hair, which had never been blond, but always a dull greyish colour, she presented an ideal portrait of a typical old maid. But she was con- tent; she did nothing to alter her condition. Perhaps she thought it best to grow old early and thus to make a quick end of all doubts and hopes. As she did not own a single sou, she knew that she would find n.o.body in all the wide world to marry her, and she looked with humility into her future, which would surely consist of consuming a tiny in-come in some tiny room which her influential uncle would procure for her out of the funds of some charitable establishment for maidens of good family. The Consul's wife was busy reading two letters. Tony related the good progress of the little Erica, and Christian wrote eagerly of his life and doings in London. He did not give any details of his industry with Mr. Richardson of Threadneedle Street. The Frau Consul, who was approaching the middle forties, complained bitterly of the tendency of blond women to grow old too soon. The delicate tint which corresponded to her reddish hair had grown dulled despite all cosmetics; and the hair itself began relentlessly to grey, or would have done so but for a Parisian tincture of which the Frau Consul had the receipt. She was determined never to grow white. When the dye would no longer perform its office, she would wear a blond wig. On top of her still artistic coiffure was a silk scarf bordered with white lace, the beginning, the first adumbration of a cap. Her silk frock was wide and flowing, its bell-shaped sleeves lined with the softest mull. A pair of gold circlets tinkled as usual on her wrist. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Suddenly there was a noise of running and shouting: a sort of insolent, hooting and cat-calling, the stamping of feet on the pavement, a hub-bub that grew louder and came nearer. "What is that noise, Mamma?" said Clara, looking out of the window and into the gossip's gla.s.s. "Look at the people! What is the matter with them? What are they so pleased about?"

1B1.

"My G.o.d!" shouted the Frau Consul, throwing down her letters and springing ID the window. "Is it--? My G.o.d, it is the Revolution! It is the people!" The truth was that the town had been the whole day in a state of unrest. In the morning the windows of Benthien the draper's shop in Broad Street had been broken by stones--although G.o.d knew what the owner had to do with politics! "Anton," the Consul's wife called with a trembling voice into the dining-room, where the servants were bustling about with the silver. "Anton! Go below! Shut the outside doors. Make everything fast. It is a mob." "Oh, Frau Consul," said Anton. "Is it safe for me to do that? I am a servant. If they see my livery--" "What wicked people," Clothilde drawled without putting down her work. Just then the Consul crossed the entrance hall and came in through the gla.s.s door. He carried his coat over his arm and his hat in his hand. "You are going out, Jean?" asked the Frau Consul in great excitement and trepidation. "Yes, my dear, I must go to the meeting." "But the mob, Jean, the Revolution--" "Oh, dear me, Betsy, it isn't so serious as that! We are in G.o.d's hand. They have gone past the house already. I'll go down the back way." "Jean, if you love me--do you want to expose yourself to this danger? Will you leave us here unprotected? I am afraid, I tell you--I am afraid." "My dear, I beg of you, don't work yourself up like this. They will only make a bit of a row in front of the Town Hall or in the market. It may cost the government a few window-panes--but that's all." "Where are you going, Jean?" "To the a.s.sembly. I am late already. I was detained by business. It would be a shame not to be there to-day. Do you think your Father is stopping away, old as he is?" 'Then go, in G.o.d's name, Jean. But be careful, I beg of you. And keep an eye on my Father. If anything hit him--'" "Certainly, my dear." "When will you be back?" the Frau Consul called after him. "Well, about half past four or five o'clock. Depends. There is a good deal of importance on the agenda, so I can't exactly tell." "Oh, I'm frightened, I'm frightened," repeated the Frau Consul, walking up and down restlessly.

CHAPTER III.

CONSUL BUDDENBROOK crossed his s.p.a.cious ground floor in haste. Coming out into Bakers' Alley, he heard steps behind him and saw Cosch the broker, a picturesque figure in his long cloak and Jesuit hat, also climbing the narrow street to the meeting. He lifted his hat with one thin long hand, and with the other made a deferential gesture, as he said, "Well, Herr Consul--how are you?" His voice sounded sinister. This broker, Siegismund Gosch, a bachelor of some forty years, was, despite his demeanour, the best and most honest soul in the world; but he was a wit and an oddity. His smooth-shaven face was distinguished by a Roman nose, a protruding pointed chin, sharp features, and a wide mouth drooping at the corners, whose narrow lips he was in the habit of pressing together in the most taciturn and forbidding manner. His grey hair fell thick and sombre over his brow, and he actually regretted not being humpbacked. It was his whim to a.s.sume the role of a wild, witty, and reckless in-trigant--a cross between Mephistopheles and Napoleon, something very malevolent and yet fascinating too; and he was not entirely unsuccessful in his pose. He was a strange yet attractive figure among the citizens of the old city; still, he belonged among them, for he carried on a small brokerage business in the most modest, respectable sort of way. In his narrow, dark little office, however, he had a large book-case filled with poetry in every language, and there was a story that he had been engaged since his twentieth year on a translation of Lope de Vega's collected dramas. once he had played the role of Domingo in an amateur performance of Schiller's "Don Carlos"--this was the culmination of his career. A common word never crossed his lips; and the most ordinary business expressions he would hiss between his clenched teeth, as if he were saying "Curses on you, villain," instead of some commonplace about stocks, and commissions. He was, in many ways, the heir and succes-sor to Jean Jacques Hoffstede of blessed memory, except that his character had certain elements of the sombre and pathetic, with none of the playful liveliness of that old IBth century friend of Johann Buddenbrook. One day he lost at a single blow, on the Bourse, six and a half thaler on two or three papers which he had bought as a speculation. This was enough. He sank upon a bench; he struck an att.i.tude which looked as though he had lost the Battle of Waterloo; he struck his clenched fist against his forehead and repeated several times, with a blasphemous roll of the eyes: "Ha, accursed, accursed!" He must have been, at bottom, cruelly bored by the small, safe business he did and the petty trans-fer of this or that bit of property; for this loss, this tragic blow with which Heaven had stricken him down--him, the schemer Cosch--delighted his inmost soul. He fed on it for weeks. Some one would say, "So you've had a loss, Herr Gosch, I'm sorry to hear." To which he would answer: "Oh, my good friend, 'uomo non educate dal dolore riman sempre bambino'!" Probably n.o.body understood that. Was it, possibly, Lope da Vega? Anyhow, there was no doubt that this Siegismund Gosch was a remarkable and learned man. "What times we live in," he said, limping up the street with the Consul, supported by his stick. "Times of storm and unrest." "You are right," replied the Consul. "The times are un-quiet. This morning's sitting will be exciting. The principle of the estates--" "Well, now," Herr Gosch went on, "I have been about all day in the streets, and I have been looking at the mob. There are some fine fellows in it, their eyes flaming with excitement and hatred--" Johann Buddenbrook began to laugh. "You like that, don't you? But you have the right end of it after all, let me tell you. It is all childishness! What do these men want? A lot of uneducated rowdies who see a chance for a bit of a scrimmage." "Of course, Though I can't deny--I was in the crowd when Berkemeyer, the journeyman butcher, smashed Herr Benlhien's window. He was like a panther." Herr Gosch spoke the last word with his teeth particularly close to-gether, and went on: "Oh, the thing has its fine side, that's certain. It is a change, at least, you know; something that doesn't happen every day. Storm, stress, violence--the tem-pest! Oh, the people are ignorant, I know--still, my heart, this heart of mine--it beats with theirs!" They were al-ready before the simple yellow-painted house on the ground floor of which the sittings of the a.s.sembly took place. The room belonged to the beer-hall and danceestablishment of a widow named Suerkringel; but on certain days it was at the service of the gentlemen burgesses. The entrance was through a narrow whitewashed corridor opening into the restaurant on the right side, where it smelled of beer and cooking, and thence through a handleless, lockless green door so small and narrow that no one could have supposed such a large room lay behind it. The room was empty, cold, and barnlik?, with a whitewashed roof in which the beams showed, and whitewashed walls. The three rather high windows had green-painted bars, but no curtains. Opposite them were the benches, rising in rows like an amphitheatre, with a table at the bottom for the chairman, the recording clerk, and the Committee of the Senate. It was covered with a green cloth and had a clock, doc.u.ments, and writing-materials on it. On the wall opposite the door were several tall hat-racks with hats and coats. The sound of voices met the Consul and his companion a3 they entered through the narrow door. They were the last to come. The room was filled with burgesses, hands in their trousers pockets, on their hips, or in the air, as they stood together in groups and discussed. Of the hundred and thirty members of the body at least a hundred were present. A number of delegates from the country districts had been obliged by circ.u.mstances to stop at home. Near the entrance stood a group composed of two or three small business men, a high-school teacher, the orphan asylum "father," Herr Mindermann, and Herr Wenzel, the popular barber. Herr Wenzel, a powerful little man with a black moustache, an intelligent face, and red hands, had shaved the Consul that very morning; here, however, he stood on an equality with him. He shaved only in the best circles; he shaved almost exclusively the Mull endorpfs, Langhals, Bud-denbrooks, and Overdiecks, and he owed his vote in the As-sembly to his omniscience in city affairs, his sociability and ease, and his remarkable power of decision at a division. "Have you heard the latest, Herr Consul?" he asked with round-eyed eagerness as his patron came up. "What is there to hear, my dear Wenzel?" "n.o.body knew it this morning. Well, permit me to tell you, Herr Consul, the latest is that the crowd are not going to collect before the Town Hall, or in the market--they are coming here to threaten the burgesses. Editor Riibsam has stirred them up." "Is it possible?" said the Consul. He pressed through the various groups to the middle of the room, where he saw his father-in-law with Senators Dr. Langhals and James Mbllen-dorpf. "Is it true, gentlemen?" he asked, shaking hands with them. But there was no need to answer. The whole a.s.semblage was full of it: the peace-breakers were coming; they could be heard already in the distance. "Canaille!" said Lebrecht Kroger with cold scorn. He had driven hither in his carriage. On an ordinary day the tall, distinguished figure of the once famous cavalier showed the burden of his eighty years; but to-day he stood quite erect 187 BUDDENBRDDK5 with his eyes half closed, the corners of his mouth contemp-tuously drawn down, and the points of his white moustaches sticking straight up. Two rows of jewelled b.u.t.tons sparkled on his black velvet waistcoat. Not far from this group was Hinrich Hagenstrom, a square-built, fleshy man with a reddish beard sprinkled with grey, a heavy watch-chain across his blue-checked waistcoat, and his coat open over it. He was standing with his partner Herr Strunck, and did not greet the Consul. Herr Benthien, the draper, a prosperous looking man, had a large group of gentlemen around him, to whom he wad circ.u.mstantially describing what had happened to his show-window. "A brick, gentlemen, a brick, or at least half a brick--crack! through it went and landed on a roll Df green rep. The rascally mob! Oh, the Government will have to take it up! It's their affair!" And in every corner of the room unceasingly resounded the voice of Herr Stuht from Bell-Founders' Street. He had on a black coat over his woollen shirt; and he so deeply sympathized with the narrative of Herr Benthien that he never stopped saying, in outraged accents, "Infamous, un-heard-of!" Johann Buddenbrook found and greeted his old friend G. F. Koppen, and then Kb'ppen's rival, Consul Kistenmaker. He moved about in the crowd, pressed Dr. Grabow's hand, and exchanged a few words with Herr Gieseke the Fire Commis-sioner, Contractor Voigt, Dr. Langhals, the. Chairman, brother of the Senator, and several merchants, lawyers, and teachers. The sitting was not yet opened, but debate was already lively. Everybody was cursing that pestilential scribbler, Edi-tor R* everybody knew he had stirred up the crowd--and what for? The business in hand was to decide whether they were to go on with the method of selecting representa-tives by estates, or whether there was to be universal and equal franchise. The Senate had already proposed the lat-ter. But what did the people want? They wanted these gentlemen by the throats--no more and no less. It was the worst hole they had ever found themselves in, devil take it! The Senatorial Committee was surrounded, its members' opinion eagerly sought. They approached Consul Buddenbrook, as one who should know the att.i.tude of Burgomaster Over-dieck; for since Senator Doctor Overdieck, Consul Justus Kroger's brother-in-law, had been made President last year, the Buddenbrooks were related to the Burgomaster; which had distinctly enhanced the regard in which they were held. All of a sudden the tumult began outside. Revolution had arrived under the windows of the Sitting. The excited ex-change of opinions inside ceased simultaneously. Every man, dumb with the shock, folded his hands upon his stomach and looked at his fellows or at the windows, where fists were being shaken in the air and the crowd was giving vent to deafening and frantic yelling. But then, most astonishingly, as though the offenders themselves had suddenly grown aghast at their own behaviour, it became just as still outside as in the hall; and in that deep hush, one word from the neigh-bourhood of the lowest benches, where Lebrecht Kroger was sitting, was distinctly audible. It rang through the hall, cold, emphatic, and deliberate--the word "Canaille!" And, like an echo, came the word "Infamous," in a fat, outraged voice from the other corner of the hall. Then the hurried, trembling, whispering utterance of the draper Benthien: "Gentlemen, gentlemen! Listen! I know the house. There is a trap door on to the roof from the attic. I used to shoot cats through it when I was a lad. We can climb on to the next roof and get down safely." "Cowardice," hissed Gosch the broker between his teeth. He leaned against the table with his arms folded and head bent, directing a blood-curdling glance through the window. "Cowardice, do you say? How cowardice? In G.o.d's name, sir, aren't they throwing bricks? I've had enough of that." The noise outside had begun again, but without reaching its former stormy height. It sounded quieter and more continu-189 ous, a prolonged, patient, almost comfortable hum, rising and falling; now and then one heard whistles, and sometimes single words like "principle" and "rights of citizens." The a.s.sembly listened respectfully. After a while the chairman, Herr Dr. Langhals, spoke in a subdued tone: "Gentlemen, I think we could come to some agreement if we opened the meeting." But this humble suggestion did not meet with the slightest support from anybody. "No good in that," somebody said, with a simple decisiveness that permitted no appeal. It was a peasant sort of man, named Pfahl, from the Ritzerau district, deputy for the vil-lage of Little Schretstaken. n.o.body remembered ever to have heard his voice raised before in a meeting, but its very simplicity made it weighty at the present crisis. Unafraid and with sure political insight, Herr Pfahl had voiced the feeling of the entire a.s.semblage. "G.o.d keep us," Herr Benthien said despondently. "If we sit on the benches we can be seen from outside. They're throwing stones--I've had enough of that." "And the cursed door is so narrow," burst out Kbppen the wine-merchant, in despair. "If we start to go out, we'll prob-ably get crushed." "Infamous, un-heard-of," Herr Stuht intoned. "Gentlemen," began the Chairman urgently once more. "I have to put before the Burgomaster, in the next three days a draft of to-day's protocol, and the town expects its publication through the press. I should at least like to get a vote on that subject, if the sitting would come to order--" But with the exception of a few citizens who supported the chairman, n.o.body seemed ready to come to the consideration of the agenda. A vote would have been useless anyhow--they must not irritate the people. n.o.body knew what they wanted, so it was no good to offend them by a vote, in whatever direction. They must wait and control themselves. The clock of St. Mary's struck half past four.

BUDDENBR DDKS.

They confirmed themselves and each other in this resolve of patient waiting. They began to get used to the noise that rose and fell outside, to feel quieter; to make themselves more comfortable, to sit down on the lower benches and chairs. The natural instinct toward industry, common to all these good burghers, began to a.s.sert itself: they ventured to bargain a little, to pick up a little business here and there. The brok-ers sat down by the wholesale dealers. These beleaguered gentlemen talked together like people shut in by a sudden storm, who speak of other things, and now and then pause to listen with respectful faces to the thunder. It was five o'clock--half-past five. It was getting dark. Now and then some-body sighed and said that the wife would be waiting with the coffee--and then Herr Benthien would venture to mention the trap-do or. But most of them were like Herr Stuht, who said fatalistically, shaking his head, "I'm too fat." Mindful of his wife's request Johann Buddenbrook had kept an eye on his father-in-law. He said to him: "This little adventure isn't disturbing you, is it, Father?" Lebrecht Kroger's forehead showed two swollen blue veins under his white wig. He looked ill. One aristocratic old hand played with the opalescent b.u.t.tons on his waistcoat; the other, with its great diamond ring, trembled on his knee. "Fiddlesticks, Buddenbrook," he said; but his voice showed extreme fatigue. "I am sick of it, that's all." Then he be-trayed himself by suddenly hissing out: "Parbleu, Jean, this infamous rabble ought to be taught some respect with a little powder and shot. Canaille! Sc.u.m!" The Consul hummed a.s.sent. "Yes, yes, you are right; it is a pretty undignified affair. But what can we do? We must keep our tempers. It's getting late. They'll go away after a bit." "Where is my carriage? I desire my Damage," said the old man in a tone of command, suddenly quite beside himself. His anger exploded; he trembled all over. "I ordered it for five o'clock: where is it? This sitting will never be held .191 Why should I stop any longer? I don't care about being made a fool of. My carriage! What are they doing to my coach-man? Go see after it, Buddenbrook." "My dear Father-in-Law, for heaven's sake be calm. You are getting excited. It will be bad for you. of course I will go and see after the carriage. I think myself we have had enough of this. I will speak to the people and tell them to go home." Close by the little green door he was accosted by Siegis-mund Grosch, who grasped his arm with a bony hand and asked in a gruesome whisper: "Whither away, Herr Consul?" The broker's face was furrowed with a thousand lines. His pointed chin rose almost up to his nose, his face expressed the most desperate resolution; his grey hair streamed dis-tractedly over brow and temples; his head was so drawn in between his shoulders that he really almost achieved his am-bition of looking like a dwarf--and he rapped out: "You behold me resolved to speak to the people." The Consul said: "No, let me do it, Gosch. I really know more of them than you do." "Be it so," answered the broker tonelessly. "You are a bigger man than I." And, lifting his voice, he went on: "But I will accompany you, I will stand at your side, Consul Buddenbrook. Let the wrath of the outraged people tear me in pieces--" "What a day, what a night!" he said as they went out. There is no doubt he had never felt so happy before in his life. "Ha, Herr Consul! Here are the people." They had gone down the corridor and outside the outer door, where they stood at the top of three little steps that went down to the pavement. The street was indeed a strange sight. It was as still as the grave. At the open and lighted windows of the houses round, stood the curious, looking down upon the black ma.s.s of the insurgents before the Burgesses' House. The crowd was not much bigger than that inside the hall. It consisted of young labourers from the harbour and granaries, servants, school pupils, sailors from the merchant ships, and other people from the little streets, alleys, courts, and rabbit-hutches round about. There were even two or three women--who had probably promised themselves the same millennium as the Buddenbrooks' cook. A few of the insur-rectionists, weary of standing, had sat down with their feet in the gutter and were eating sandwiches. It was nearly six o'clock. Though twilight was well ad-vanced, the oil lamps hung unlighted above the street. This fact, this open and unheard-of interruption of the regular order, was the first thing that really made Consul Budden-brook's temper rise, and was responsible for his beginning to speak in a rather short and angry tone and the broadest of p.r.o.nunciations: "Now then, all of you, what is the meaning of this foolish-ness?" The picnickers sprang up from the sidewalk. Those in the back ranks, beyond the foot-pavement, stood on their tiptoes. Some navvies', in the Service of the Consul, took off their caps. They stood at attention, nudged each other, and muttered in low tones, " 'Tis Consul Buddenbrook. He be goin' to talk. Hold yer jaw, there, Chrishan; he can jaw like the devil himself! Ther's Broker Gosch--look! What a monkey he is! Isn't he gettin' o'erwrought!" "Carl Smolt!" began the Consul again, picking out and fastening his small, deep-set eyes upon a bow-legged young labourer of about two-and-twenty, with his cap in his hand and his mouth full of bread, standing in front of the steps. "Here, speak up, Carl Smolt! Now's the time! I've been here the whole afternoon--" "Yes, Herr Consul," brought out Carl Smolt, chewing violently. "The thing is--ower--it's a soart o'--we're mak-kin' a involution." "What kind of nonsense is that, then?" "Lord, Herr Consul, ye knaw what that is. We're not satisfied wi' things as they be. We demand another order u' things; tain't any more'n that--that's what it is." "Now, listen, Carl Smolt and the rest of you. Whoever's got any sense will go home and not bother himself over any revolutions, disturbing the regular order of things--" "The sacred order," interrupted Herr Gosch dramatically. "The regular order, I say," finished the Consul. "Why, even the lamps aren't lighted. That's going too far with the revolution." Carl Smolt had swallowed his mouthful by now, and, with the people at his back, stood his ground and made some ob-jections. "Well, Herr Consul, ye may say that. But we're only agin the principle of the voate--" "G.o.d in heaven, you ninny," shouted the Consul, forgetting, in his excitement, to speak dialect. "You're talking the sheerest nonsense--" "Lord, Herr Consul," said Carl Smolt, somewhat abashed, "thet's oall as it is. Rivolution it has to be. Ther's Evolution iverywheer, in Berlin, in Paris--" "But, Smolt, what do you want? Just tell me that, if you can." "Lord, Herr Consul, I say we wants a republic; that's wat I be savin'." "But, you fool, you've got one already." "Well, Herr Consul, then we wants another." Some of the bystanders, who understood the matter better, began to laugh rudely and heartily; and although few even heard Carl's answer, the laughter spread until the whole crowd of republicans stood shaking good-naturedly. Some of the gentlemen from inside the hall appeared at the window with curious faces and beer-mugs in their hands. The only person disappointed and pained by this turn of affairs was Siegis-mund Gosch. "Now, people," shouted Consul Buddenbrook finally, "I think the best thing for you all to do is to go home." Carl Smolt, quite crestfallen over the result he had brought about, answered "That's right, Herr Consul. Then things'll be quieted down. And Herr Consul doesn't take it ill of me, do'e, now? Good-bye, Herr Consul!" The crowd began to disperse, in the best of humours. "Wait a minute, Smolt," shouted the Consul. "Have you seen the Kroger carriage? the caleuhe from outside the Castle Gate?" "Yes, sir, Herr Consul. He's here; he be driven up in some court somewhere." "Then run quick and say he's to come at once; his master wants to go home." "Servant, Herr Consul," and, throwing his cap on his head and pulling the leather visor well down over his brows, Carl Smelt ran with great swinging strides down the street, CHAPTER IV WHEN the Consul and Siegismund Gosch returned to the hall, the scene was a more comfortable one than it had been a quarter of an hour before. It was lighted by two large oil lamps standing on the Committee table, in whose yellow light the gentlemen sat or stood together, pouring out beer into shining tankards, touching gla.s.ses and talking loudly, in the gayest of humours. Frau Suerkringel, the widow, had con-soled them. She had loyally taken on her enforced guests and given them good advice, recommending that they fortify themselves for the siege, which might endure some while yet. And thus she had profitably employed the time by selling a considerable quant.i.ty of her light yet exhilarating beer. As the others entered, the house-boy, in shirt-sleeves and good-natured grin, was just bringing in a fresh supply of bottles. While it was certainly late, too late to consider further the revision of the Const.i.tution, n.o.body seemed inclined to in-terrupt the meeting and go home. It was too late for coffee, in any case. After the Consul had received congratulatory handshakes on his success, he went up to his father-in-law. Lebrecht Kroger was the only man in the room whose mood had not improved. He sat in his place, cold, remote, and lofty, and answered the information that the carriage would be around at once by saying scornfully, in a voice that trembled more with bitter-ness than age: "Then the mob permits me to go home?" With stiff movements that no longer had in them anything of the charm that had been his, he had his fur mantle put about his shoulders, and laid his arm, with a careless "Merci," on that of the Consul, who offered to accompany him home.

BUDDENBROOK5.

The majestic coach, with two large lanterns on the box, stood in the street, where, to the Consul's great satisfaction, the lamps were now being lighted. They both got in. Silent and stiffly erect, with his eyes half-closed, Lebrecht Kroger sat with the rug over his knees, the Consul at his right hand, while the carriage rolled through the streets. Beneath the points of the old man's white moustaches two lines ran down perpendicularly from the corners of his mouth to his chin. He was gnawed by chagrin at the insult that had been offered him, and he stared, weary and chilled, at the cushions opposite. There was more gayety in the streets than on a Sunday eve-ning. Obviously a holiday temper reigned. The people, de-lighted at the successful outcome of the revolution, were out in the gayest mood. There was singing. Here and there youngsters shouted "Hurrah!" as the carriage drove past, and threw their caps into the air. "I really think, Father, you let the matter affect you too much," the Consul said. "When one thinks of it, what a tom-fool business the whole thing was--simply a farce." In order to get some reply from the old man he went on to talk about the revolution in lively tones. "When the propertyless cla.s.s begin to realize how little they serve their own ends--why, good heavens, it's the same everywhere. I was talking this afternoon with Gosch the broker, a wonderful man, looking at everything with the eyes of a poet and writer. You see, Father, this revolution was made at the esthetic tea-tables of Berlin. Then the people take their own skin to mar-ket--for, of course, they will be the ones to pay for it!" "It would be a good thing if you would open the window on your side," said Herr Kroger. Johann Buddenbrook gave him a quick glance and let the gla.s.s down hastily. "Aren't you feeling well, dear Father?" he asked anxiously. "Not at all," answered Lebrecht Kroger severely. "You need food and rest," the Consul said; and in order to 197 BUDDENBRDOKS be doing something he drew up the fur rug closer about his father-in-law's knees. Suddenly--ihe carriage was rolling through Castle Street--a wretched thing happened. Fifteen paces from the Castle Date, in the half-dark, they pa.s.sed a group of noisy and happy street urchins, and a stone flew through the open win-dow. It was a harmless little stone, the size of a hen's egg, flung by the hand of some Chris Snut or Heine Voss to cele-brate the revolution; certainly not with any bad intent, and probably not directed toward the carriage at all. It came noiselessly through the window and struck Lebrecht Kroger in his chest, which was covered with the thick fur rug. Then it rolled down over the cover and fell upon the floor of the coach. "Clumsy fools!" said the Consul angrily. "Is everybody out of their senses this evening? It didn't hurt you, did it?" Did Kroger was silent--alarmingly silent. It was too dark in the carriage to see his expression. He sat straighter, higher, stiff er than ever, without touching the cushions. Then, from deep within him, slowly, coldly, dully, came the single word: "Canaille." For fear of angering him further, the Consul made no an-swer. The carriage clattered through the gate, and three minutes later was in the broad avenue before the gilt-tipped railings that bounded the Kroger domain. A drive bordered with chestnut trees went from the garden gate up to the ter-race; and on either side of the gate a gilt-topped lantern was burning brightly. The Consul saw his father-in-law's face by this light--it was yellow and wrinkled; the firm, contemp-tuous set of the mouth had given way: it had changed to the lax, silly, distorted expression of a very old man. The car-riage stopped before the terrace. "Help me out," said Lebrecht Kroger; but the Consul was already out, had thrown back the rug, and offered his arm and shoulder as a support. He led the old man slowly for a few paces across the gravel to the white stone steps that went up to the dining-room. At the foot of these, the old man bent at the knee-joints. His head fell so heavily on his breast that the lower jaw clashed against the upper. His eyes rolled--grew dim; Lebrecht Kroger, the gallant, the cavalier a-la-mode, had joined his fathers.

CHAPTER V.

A YEAR and two months later, on a misty, snowy morning in January of the year 1850, Herr and Madame Gr* sat at breakfast with their little three-year-old daughter, in the brown wainscoted dining-room, on chairs that cost twenty-five marks apiece. The panes of both windows were opaque with mist; behind them one had vague glimpses of bare trees and bushes. A red glow and a gentle, scented warmth came from the low, green-tiled stove standing in a corner. Through the open door next it one could see the foliage-plants in the "pensee-room." On the other wall, half-drawn green stuff portieres gave a view of the brown satin salon and of a lofty gla.s.s door leading on to a little terrace beyond. The cracks in this door were carefully stopped with cotton-wool, and there was nothing to be seen through its panes but the whitish-grey mist beyond. The snow-white cloth of woven damask on the round table had an embroidered green runner across it, laid with gold-bordered porcelain so translucent that it gleamed like mother-of-pearl. The tea-kettle was humming. There was a finely worked silver bread-basket in the shape of a curling leaf, with slices and rolls of fine bread; under one crystal bell were little b.a.l.l.s of b.u.t.ter, under another different sorts of cheese, white, yellow, and green. There was even a bottle of wine standing before the master of the house; for Herr Gr* had a full breakfast every morning. His whiskers were freshly curled, and at this early hour his rosy face was rosier than ever. He sat with his back to the salon, already arrayed in a black coat and light trousers with a pattern of large checks, eating a grilled chop, in the English manner. His wife thought this very elegant, but also very disgusting--she had never brought herself to take it instead of her usual breakfast of bread and b.u.t.ter and an egg- Tony was in her dressing-gown. She adored dressing-gowns. Nothing seemed more elegant to her than a handsome negligee, and as she had not been allowed to indulge this pa.s.sion in the parental house she was the more given to it as a wife. She had three of these dainty clinging garments, to the fashioning of which can go so much more taste and fantasy than to a ball-gown. To-day she wore her dark red one. Its colour toned beautifully with the paper above the wainscoting, and its large-flowered stuff, of a beautiful soft texture, was embroidered all over with sprays of tiny gla.s.s beads of the same colour, while row after row of red velvet ribbons ran from neck to hem. Her thirk ash-blonde hair, with its dark red velvet band, curled about her brows. She had now, as she was herself well aware, reached the highest point of her physical bloom; yet her pretty, pouting upper lip retained just the nai've, pro-vocative expression of her childhood. The lids of her grey-blue eyes were reddened with cold water. Her hands, the white Buddenbrook hands, finely shaped if a little stumpy, their delicate wrists caressed by the velvet cuffs of her dressing-gown, handled her knife and fork and tea-cup with motions that were to-day, for some reason or other, rather jerky and abrupt. Her little daughter Erica sat near her in a high chair. She was a plump child with short blonde hair, in a funny, shapeless, knitted frock of pale blue wool. She held a large cup in both tiny hands, entirely concealing her face, and drank her milk with little sighs of satisfaction. Frau Gr* rang, and Tinka, the housemaid, came from the entry to take the child from her high chair and carry her upstairs into the play-room. "You may take her walking outside for a half-hour, Tinka," said Tony. "But not longer; 201 BUDDENBRDOKS and put on her thick jacket. It is very damp and foggy." She remained alone with her husband. "You only make yourself seem absurd," she said then, after a silence, obviously continuing an interrupted conversation. "What are your objections? Give me some reason. I can't be always attending to the child." "You are not fond of children, Antonie." "Fond of children, indeed! I have no time. I am taken up with the housekeeping. I wake up with twenty things that must be done, and I go to bed with forty that have not been done." "There are two servants. A young woman like you--" "Two servants. Good. Tinka has to wash up, to clean, to serve. The cook is busy all the time. You have chops early in the morning. Think it over, Gr*. Sooner or later, Erica must have a bonne, a governess." "But to get a governess for her so soon is not suited to our means." "Our means! Goodness, you are absurd! Are we beggars? Are we forced to live within the smallest limits we can? I think I brought you in eighty thousand marks--" "Oh, you and your eighty thousand marks--!" "Yes, I know you like to make light of them. They were of no importance to you because you married me for love! Good. But do you still love me? You deliberately disre-gard my wishes. The child is not to have a governess. And I don't even speak any more of the jcoupe, which we need quite as much as we need food and drink. And why do you insist on our living out here in the country, if it isn't in accordance with our means to keep a carriage so that we can go into soci-ety respectably? Why do you never like it when I go in to town? You would always rather just have me bury myself out here, so I should never see a living soul. I think you are very ill-tempered." Herr Gr* poured some wine into his gla.s.s, lifted up 2D2 one of the crystal bells, and began on the cheese. He made no reply. "Don't you love me any more?" repeated Tony. "Your silence is so insulting, it drives me to remind you of a certain day when you entered our landscape-room. You made a fine figure of yourself! But from the very first day after our marriage you have sat with me only in the evening, and that only to read the paper. Just at first you showed some little regard for my wishes. But that's been over with for a long while now. You neglect me." "And you? You are ruining me." "I? I am ruining you?" "Yes, you are ruining me with your indolence, your ex-travagance, and love of luxury." "Oh, pray don't reproach me with my good upbringing! In my parents' house I never had to lift a finger. Now I have hard work to get accustomed to the housekeeping; but I have at least a right to demand that you do not refuse me the ordinary a.s.sistance. Father is a rich man; he would never dream that I could lack for service." "Then wait for this third servant until we get hold of some of those riches." "Oh, you are wishing for my Father's death. But I mean that we are well-to-do people in our own right. I did not come to you with empty hands." Herr Gr* smiled an embarra.s.sed and dejected smile, although he was in the act of chewing his breakfast. He made no other reply, and his silence bewildered Tony. "Gr*," she said more quietly, "why do you smile and talk about our 'means'? Am I mistaken? Has business'been bad? Have you--?" Just then somebody drummed on the corridor door, and Herr Kesselmeyer walked in.

CHAPTER VI.

HERR KESSELMEYER entered unannounced, as a friend of the house, without hat or coat. He paused, however, near the door. His looks corresponded exactly to the description Tony had given to her Mother. He was slightly thick-set as to figure, but neither fat nor lean. He wore a black, already some-what shiny coat, short tight trousers of the same material, and a white waistcoat, over which went a long thin watch-chain and two or three eye-gla.s.s cords. His clipped white beard was in sharp contrast with his red face. It covered his cheeks and left his chin and lips free. His mogith was small and mobile, with two yellowish pointed teeth in the otherwise vacant gum of his lower jaw, and he was pressing these into his upper lip, aa-he stood absently by the door with his hands in his trousers pockets and the black and white down on his head waving slightly, although there was not the least perceptible draught. Finally he drew his hands out of his pockets, bowed, re-leased his lip, and with difficulty freed one of the eye-gla.s.s cords from the confusion on his waistcoat. He lifted his pince-nez and put it with a single gesture astride his nose. Then he made the most astonishing grimaces, looked at the husband and wife, and remarked: "Ah, ha!" Housed this expression with extraordinary frequency and a surprising variety of inflections. He might say it with his head thrown back, his nose wrinkled up, mouth wide open, hands swishing about in the air, with a long-drawn-out, nasal, metallic sound, like a Chinese gong; or he might, with still funnier effect, toss it out, gently, en pa.s.sant; or with any one of a thousand different shades of tone and meaning. His a was very clouded and nasal. To-day it was a hurried, lively "Ah ha!" accompanied with a jerk of the head, that seemed to arise from an unusually pleasant mood, and yet might not be trusted to be so; for the fact was, Banker Kesselmeyer never behaved more gaily than when he was dangerous. When he jumped about emitting a thousand "Ah ha's," lifting his gla.s.ses to his nose and letting them fall again, waving his arms, chattering, plainly quite beside himself with light-headedness, then you might be sure that evil was gnawing at his inwards. Herr Gr* looked at him blinking, with unconcealed mistrust. "Already--so early?" he asked. "Ah, ha!" answered Herr Kesselmeyer, and waved one of his small, red, wrinkled hands in the air, as if to say: "Pa-tience, there is a surprise coming." "I must speak with you, without any delay; I must speak with you." The words sounded irresistibly comic as he rolled each one about before giving it out, with exaggerated movements of his little toothless, mobile mouth. He rolled his r's as if his palate were greased. Herr Gr* blinked more and more suspiciously. "Come and sit down, Herr Kesselmeyer," said Tony. "I'm glad you've come. Listen. You can decide between us. Gr* and I have been disagreeing. Now tell me: ought a three-year-old child to have a governess or not?" But Herr Kesselmeyer seemed not to be attending. He had seated himself and was rubbing his stubbly beard with his forefinger, making a rasping sound, his mouth as wide open as possible, nose as wrinkled, while he stared over, his gla.s.ses with an indescribably sprightly air at the elegantly appointed breakfast-table, the silver bread-basket, the label on the wine-bottle. "Gr* says I am ruining him," Tony continued. Herr Kesselmeyer looked at her; then he looked at Herr Gr*; then he burst out into an astonishing fit of laughter. "You are ruining him?--you? You are ruining him--that's 205 BUDDENBR DDKS it, is it? Oh good gracious, heavens and earth, you don't say! That is a joke. That is a tre-men-dous, tre-men-dous joke." He let out a stream of ha ha's all run in together. Herr Gr* was plainly nervous. He squirmed on his seat. He ran his long finger down between his collar and his neck and let his golden whiskers glide through his hand. "Kesselmeyer," he said. "Control yourself, man. Are you out of your head? Stop laughing! Will you have some wine? Or a cigar? What are you laughing at?" "What am I laughing at? Yes, yes, give me a gla.s.s of wine, give me a cigar. Why am I laughing? So you think your wife is ruining you?" "She is very luxuriously inclined," Herr Gr* said ir-ritably. Tony did not contradict him. She leaned calmly back, her hands in her lap on the velvet ribbons of her frock and her pert upper lip in evidence: "Yes, I am, I know. I have it from Mamma. All the Krogers are fond of luxury." She would have admitted in the same calm way that she was frivolous, revengeful, or quick-tempered. Her strongly developed family sense was instinctively hostile to conceptions of free will and self-development; it inclined her rather to recognize and accept her own characteristics wholesale, with fatalistic indifference and toleration. She had, uncon-sciously, the feeling that any trait of hers, nn matter of what kind, was a family tradition and therefore worthy of respect. Herr Griinlirh had finished breakfast, and the fragrance of the two cigars mingled with the warm air from the stove. "Will you take another, Kesselmeyer?" said the host. "I'll pour you out another gla.s.s of wine.--You want to see me? Anything pressing? Is it important?--Too warm here, is it? We'll drive into town together afterward. It is cooler in the smoking-room." To all this Herr Kesselmeyer simply shook his hand in the air, as if to say: "This won't get us anywhere, my dear friend." At length they got up; and, while Tony remained in the dining-room to see that the servant-maid cleared away, Herr Gr* led his colleague through the "pensee-room," with his head bent, drawing his long beard reflectively through his fingers. Herr Kesselmeyer rowed into the room with his arms and disappeared behind him. Ten minutes pa.s.sed. Tony had gone into the salon to give the polished nut-wood secretary and the curved table-legs her personal attention with the aid of a gay little feather duster. Then she moved slowly through the dining-room into the Irving-room with dignity and marked self-respect. The Dem-oiselle Buddenbrook had plainly not grown less important in her own eyes since becoming Madame Gr*. She held herself very erect, chin in, and looked down at the world from above. She carried in one hand her little lacquered key-basket; the other was in the pocket of her gown, whose soft folds played about her. The naive expression of her mouth betrayed that the whole of her dignity and importance were a part of a beautiful, childlike, innocent game which she was constantly playing with herself. In the "pensee-room" she busied herself with a little bra.s.s sprinkler, watering the black earth around her plants. She loved her palms, they gave so much elegance to the room. She touched carefully a young shoot on one of the thick round stems, examined the majestically unfolded fans, and cut away a yellow tip here and there with the scissors. Sud-denly she stopped. The conversation in the next room, which had for several minutes been a.s.suming a livelier tone, became so loud that she could hear every word, though the door and the portieres were both heavy. "Don't shriek like that--control yourself, for G.o.d's sake!" she heard Herr Gr* say. His weak voice could not stand the strain, and went off in a squeak. "Take another cigar," he went on, with desperate mildness. "Yes, thanks, with the greatest pleasure," answered the 207 BUDDENBRDOKS banker, and there was a pause while he presumably helped himself. Then he said: "In short, will you or won't you: one or the other?" "Kesselmeyer,' give me an extension." "Ah, ha! No, no, my friend. There is no question of an extension. That's not the point now." "Why not? What is stirring you up to this? Be reason-able, for heaven's sake. You've waited this long." "Not a day longer, my friend. Yes, we'll say eight days, but not an hour longer. But can't we rely any longer on--?" "No names, Kesselmeyer." "No names. Good. But doesn't some one rely any longer on his estimable Herr Pa--" "No hints, either. My G.o.d, don't be a fool." "Very good; no hints, either. But have we no claim any longer on the well-known firm with whom our credit stands and falls, my friend? How much did it lose by the Bremen failure? Fifty thousand? Seventy thousand? A hundred thousand? More? The sparrows on the housetops know that it was involved, heavily involved. Yesterday--well, no names. Yesterday the well-known firm was good, and it was unconsciously protecting you against pressure. To-day its stock is flat--and B. Gr*'s stock is the flattest of the flat. Is that clear? Do you grasp it? You are the first man to notice a thing like that. How are people treating you? How do they look at you? Beck and Coudstikker are perfectly agreeable, give you the same terms as usual? And the bank?" "They will extend." "You aren't lying, are you? Oh, no! I know they gave you a jolt yesterday--a very, very stimulating jolt eh? You see? Dh, don't be embarra.s.sed. It is to your interest, of course, to pull the wool over my eyes, so that the others will be quiex. Hey, my dear friend? Well, you'd better write to the Consul. I'll wait a week." "A part payment, Kesselmeyrr1"

BUDDENBROOK5.

"Part payment, rubbish! One accepts part payment to convince oneself for the time of a debtor's ability to pay. Do I need to make experiments of that kind on you? I am perfectly well-informed about your ability to pay. Ah, ha, ah, ha! Part payment! That's a very good joke." "Moderate your voice, Kesselmeyer. Don't laugh all the time in that cursed way. My position is so serious--yes, I admit, it is serious. But I have such-and-such business in hand--everything may still come out all right. Listen, wait a minute: Give me an extension and I'll sign it for twenty per cent." "Nothing in it, nothing in it, my friend. Very funny, very amusing. Oh, yes, I'm in favour of selling at the right time. You promised me eight per cent, and I extended. You promised me twelve and sixteen per cent, and I extended, every time. Now, you might offer me forty per cent, and I shouldn't consider it--not for a moment. Since Brother West-fall in Bremen fell on his nose, everybody is for the moment freeing himself from the well-known firm and getting on a sound basis. As I say, I'm for selling at the right time. I've held your signatures as long as Johann Buddenbrook was good--in the meantime I could write up the interest on the capital and increase the per cent. But one only keeps a thing so long as it is rising or at least keeping steady. When it begins to fall, one sells--which is the same as saying I want my capital." "Kesselmeyer, you are shameless." "Ah, ha, a-ha! Shameless, am I? That's very charming, very funny. What do you want? You must apply to your father-in-law. The Credit Bank is raging--and you know you are not exactly spotless." "No, Kesselmeyer. I adjure you to hear me quietly. I'll be perfectly frank. I confess that my situation is serious. You and the Credit Bank are not the only ones--there are notes of hand--everything seems to have gone to pieces at once!" 209 "Of course--naturally. It is certainly a clean-up--a liquidation." "No, Kesselmeyer; hear me out. Do take another cigar." "This one is not half finished. Leave me alone with your cigars. Pay up." "Kesselmeyer, don't let me smash!--You are a friend of mine--you have eaten at my table." "And maybe you haven't eaten at mine?" "Yes, yes--but don't refuse me credit now, Kesselmeyer!" "Credit? It's credit, now, is it? Are you in your senses? A new loan?" "Yes, Kesselmeyer, I swear to you--A little--a trifle. I only need to make a few payments and advances here and there to get on my feet again and restore confidence. Help me and you will be doing a big business. As I said, I have a number of affairs on hand. They may still all come out right. You know how shrewd