had swept Hamburg in May of the year 1842. “Yes, indeed,” said Herr Grünlich, “truly a fearful misfortune. A distressing visitation. The loss amounted to one hundred and thirty-five millions, at a rough estimate. I am grateful to Providence that I came off without any loss whatever. The fire raged chiefly in the parishes of St. Peter and St. Nicholas. – What a charming garden!” he interrupted himself, taking the cigar which the Consul offered. “It is so large for a town garden, and the beds of colour are magnificent. I confess my weakness for flowers, and for nature in general. Those climbing roses over there trim up the garden uncommonly well.” He went on, praising the refinement of the location, praising the town itself, praising the Consul’s cigar. He had a pleasant word for each member of the circle.
“May I venture to inquire what you are reading, Fräulein Antonie?” he said smiling.
Tony drew her brows together sharply at this, for some reason, and answered without looking at him, “Hoffmann’s ‘Serapion Brethren.’”
“Really! He is a wonderful writer, is he not? Ah, pardon me – I forgot the name of your younger son, Frau Consul?”
“Christian.”
“A beautiful name. If I may so express myself” – here he turned again to the Consul – “I like best the names which show that the bearer is a Christian. The name of Johann, I know, is hereditary in your family – a name which always recalls the beloved disciple. My own name – if I may be permitted to mention it,” he continued, Waxing eloquent, “is that of most of my forefathers – Bendix. It can only be regarded as a shortened form of Benedict. And you, Herr Buddenbrook, are reading –? ah, Cicero. The works of this great Roman orator make pretty difficult reading, eh? ‘Quousque tandem – Catilina ’ … ahem. Oh, I have not forgotten quite all my Latin.”
“I disagree with my late Father on this point,” the Consul said. “I have always objected to the perpetual occupation of young heads with Greek and Latin. When there are so many other important subjects, necessary as a preparation for the practical affairs of life –.”
“You take the words out of my mouth,” Herr Grünlich hastened to say. “It is hard reading, and not by any means always unexceptionable – I forgot to mention that point. Everything else aside, I can recall passages that were positively offensive –”
There came a pause, and Tony thought “Now it’s my turn.” Herr Grünlich had turned his gaze upon her. And, sure enough: he suddenly started in his chair, made a spasmodic but always highly elegant gesture toward the Frau Consul and whispered ardently, “Pray look, Frau Consul, I beg of you. – Fräulein, I implore you,” he interrupted himself aloud, just as if Tony could not hear the rest of what he said, “to keep in that same position for just a moment. Do you see,” he began whispering again, “how the sunshine is playing in your daughter’s hair? Never,” he said solemnly, as if transported, speaking to nobody in particular, “have I seen more beautiful hair.” It was as if he were addressing his remarks to God or to his own soul.
The Consul’s wife smiled, well pleased. The Consul said, “Don’t be putting notions into the girl’s head.” And again Tony drew her brows together without speaking. After a short pause, Herr Grünlich got up.
“But I won’t disturb you any longer now – no, Frau Consul, I refuse to disturb you any longer,” he repeated. “I only came on business, but I could not resist – indeed, who could resist you? Now duty calls. May I ask the Consul –”
“I hope I do not need to assure you that it would give us pleasure if you would let us put you up while you are here,” said the Frau Consul. Herr Grünlich appeared for the moment struck dumb with gratitude. “From my soul I am grateful, Frau Consul,” he said, and his look was indeed eloquent with emotion. “But I must not abuse your kindness. I have a couple of rooms at the City of Hamburg –”
“A couple of rooms,” thought the Frau Consul – which was just what Herr Grünlich meant her to think.
“And, in any case,” he said, as she offered her hand cordially, “I hope we have not seen each other for the last time.” He kissed her hand, waited a moment for Antonie to extend hers – which she did not do – described another half-circle with his upper torso, made a long step backward and another bow, threw back his head and put his hat on with a flourish, then walked away in company with the Consul.
“A pleasant man,” the Father said later, when he came back and took his place again.
“I think he’s silly,” Tony permitted herself to remark with some emphasis.
“Tony! Heavens and earth, what an idea!” said the Consul’s wife, displeased. “Such a Christian young man!”
“So well brought up, and so cosmopolitan,” went on the Consul. “You don’t know what you are talking about.” He and his wife had a way of taking each other’s side like this, out of sheer politeness. It made them the more likely to agree.
Christian wrinkled up his long nose and said, “He was so important. ‘You are conversing’ – when we weren’t at all. And the roses over there ‘trim things up uncommonly.’ He acted some of the time as if he were talking to himself. ‘I am disturbing you’ – ‘I beg pardon’ – ‘I have never seen more beautiful hair.’” Christian mocked Herr Grünlich so cleverly that they all had to laugh, even the Consul.
“Yes, he gave himself too many airs,” Tony went on. “He talked the whole time about himself – his business is good, and he is fond of nature, and he likes such-and-such names, and his name is Bendix – what is all that to us, I’d like to know? Everything he said was just to spread himself.” Her voice was growing louder all the time with vexation. “He said all the very things you like to hear, Mamma and Papa, and he said them just to make a fine impression on you both.”
“That is no reproach, Tony,” the Consul said sternly. “Everybody puts his best foot foremost before strangers. We all take care to say what will be pleasant to hear. That is a commonplace.”
“I think he is a good man,” Clothilde pronounced with drawling serenity – she was the only person in the circle about whom Herr Grünlich had not troubled himself at all. Thomas refrained from giving an opinion.
“Enough,” concluded the Consul. “He is a capable, cultured, and energetic Christian man, and you, Tony, should try to bridle your tongue – a great girl of eighteen or nineteen years old, like you! And after he was so polite and gallant to you, too. We are all weak creatures; and you, let me say, are one of the last to have a right to throw stones. Tom, we’ll get to work.”
Pert little Tony muttered to herself “A golden goat’s beard!” and scowled as before.
2
TONY, COMING BACK from a walk some days later, met Herr Grünlich at the corner of Meng Street. “I was most grieved to have missed you, Fräulein,” he said. “I took the liberty of paying my respects to your Mother the other day, and I regretted your absence more than I can say. How delightful that I should meet you like this!”
Fräulein Buddenbrook had paused as he began to speak; but her half-shut eyes looked no further up than the height of Herr Grünlich’s chest. On her lips rested the mocking, merciless smile with which a young girl measures and rejects a man. Her lips moved – what should she say? It must be something that would demolish this Herr Bendix Grünlich once and for all – simply annihilate him. It must be clever,
