Buddenbrooks (13 page)

CHAPTER IX

"IT is wonderful how one doesn't get bored, here at the sea-shore, Morten. Imagine lying anywhere else for hours at a time, flat on your back, doing nothing, not even thinking--" "Yes. But I must confess that I used to be bored some-times--only not in the last few weeks." Autumn was at hand. The first strong wind had risen. Thin, tattered grey clouds raced across the sky. The dreary, tossing sea was covered far and wide with foam. Great, powerful waves rolled silently in, relentless, awesome; towered majestically, in a metallic dark-green curve, then crashed thundering on the sand. The season was quite at an end. On that part of the beach usually occupied by the throng of bathers, the pavilions were already partly dismantled, and it lay as quiet as the grave, with only a very few basket-chairs. But Tony and Morten spent the afternoon in a distant spot, at the edge of the yellow loam, where the waves hurled their spray as far up as Sea-gull Rock. Morten had made her a solid sand fortress, and she leaned against it with her back, her feet in their strap shoes and white stockings crossed in front of her. Morten lay turned toward her, his chin in his hands. Now and then a sea-gull flew past them, shrieking. They looked at the green wall of wave, streaked with sea-weed, that came threateningly on and on and then broke against the opposing boulders, with the eternal, confused tumult that deafens and silences and destroys all sense of time. Finally Morten made a movement as though rousing him-self from deep thought, and said, "Well, you will soon be leaving us, Fraulein Tony." "No; why?" Tony said absently. "Well, it is the tenth of September. My holidays are nearly at an end, anyhow. How much longer can it last? Shall you be glad to get back to the society of your own kind? Tell me--I suppose the gentlemen you dance with are very agreeable?--No, no, that was not what I wanted to say. Now you must answer me," he said, with a sudden resolution, shifting his chin in his hands and looking at her. "Here is the question I have been waiting so long to ask. Now: who is Herr Gr�? Tony sat up, looking at him quickly, her eyes shifting back and forth like those of a person recollecting himself on coming out of a dream. She was feeling again the sense of in-creased personal importance first experienced when Herr Gr� proposed for her hand. "Oh, is that what you want to know, Morten?" she said weightily. "Well, I will tell you. It was really very painful for me to have Thomas mention his name like that, the first afternoon; but since you have already heard of him--well, Herr Gr�, Bendix Gr�, is a business friend of my father, a well-to-do Hamburg merchant, who has asked for my hand. No, no," she replied quickly to a movement of Mor-ten's, "I have refused him; I have never been able to make up my mind to yield him my consent for life." "And why not?--if I may ask," said Morten awkwardly. "Why? Oh, good heavens, because I couldn't endure him," she cried out in a passion. "You ought to have seen him, how he looked and how he acted. Among other things, he had yellow whiskers--dreadfully unnatural. I'm sure he curled them and put on gold powder, like the stuff we use for the Christmas nuts. And he was underhanded. He fawned on my Father and Mother and chimed in with them in the most shameful way--" Morten interrupted her. "But what does this mean: "That trims it up uncommonly." Tony broke into a nervous giggle. "Well, he talked like that, Morten. He wouldn't say 'That looks very well' or 'It goes very well with the room.' He was frightfully silly, I tell you. And very persistent; he simply wouldn't be put off, although I never gave him anything but sarcasm. Once he made such a scene--he nearly wept--imagine a man weeping!" "He must have worshipped you," Morten said softly. "Well, what affair was that of mine?" she cried out, aston-ished, turning around on her sand-heap. "You are cruel, Fr�ein Tony. Are you always cruel? Tell me: You didn't like this Herr Gr�. But is there any one to whom you have been more gracious? Sometimes I think: Has she a cold heart? Let me tell you something: a man is not idiotic simply because he weeps when you won't look at him. I swear it. I am not sure, not at all, that I wouldn't do the same thing. You see, you are such a dainty, spoilt thing. Do you always make fun of people that lie at your feet? Have you really a cold heart?" After the first giggle, Tony's lip began to quiver. She turned on him a pair of great distressed eyes, which slowly filled with tears as she said softly: "No, Morten, you should not think that of me--you must not think that of me." "I don't; indeed I don't," he cried, with a laugh of mingled emotion and hardly suppressed exultation. He turned fully about, so that he lay supporting himself on his elbows, took her hands in both his, and looked straight into hers with his kind steel-blue eyes, which were excited and dreamy and ex-alted all at once. "Then you--you won't mock at me if I tell you--?" "I know, Morten," she answered gently, looking away from him at the fine white sand sifting through the fingers of her free hand. "You know--and you--oh, Fr�ein Tony!" "Yes. Morten. I care a great deal for you. More than for any one else I know." He started up, making awkward gestures with his arms, like a man bewildered. Then he got to his feet, only to throw himself down again by her side and cry in a voice that stammered, wavered, died away and rose again, out of sheer joy: "Oh, thank you, thank you! I am so happy! more than I ever was in all my life!" And he fell to kissing her hands. After a moment he said more quietly; "You will be going back to town soon, Tony, and my holidays will be over in two weeks; then I must return to G�ngen. But will you promise me that you will never forget this after-noon here on the beach--till I come back again with my de-gree, and can ask your Father--however hard that's going to be? And you won't listen to any Herr Gr� mean-time? Oh, it won't be so long--I will work like a--like any-thing! it will be so easy!" "Yes, Morten," she said dreamily, looking at his eyes, his mouth, his hands holding hers. He drew her hand close to his breast and asked very softly and imploringly: "And won't you--may I--seal the prom-ise?" She did not answer, she did not look at him, but moved nearer to him on the sand-heap, and Morten kissed her slowly and solemnly on the mouth. Then they stared in different directions across the sand, and both felt furiously embarrassed.

CHAPTER X

DEAREST MADEMOISELLE BUDDENBRODK,

For how long must the undersigned exist without a glimpse bf his enchantress? These few lines will tell you that the vision has never ceased to hover before his spiritual eye; that never has he during these interminably anxious months ceased to think of the precious afternoon in your parental salon, when you let fall a blushing promise which filled me with bliss unspeakable! Since then long weeks have flown, during which you have retired from the world for the sake of calm and self-examination. May I now hope that the period of probation is past? The undersigned permits himself, dearest Mademoiselle, to send the enclosed ring as an earnest of bis undying tenderness. With the most tender compliments, Lnd devotedly kissing your hand, I remain, Your obedient servant, GRCNLICH.

DEAR PAPA,

How angry I've been! I had the enclosed letter and ring just now from Griinlich, and my head aches fearfully from excitement. I don't know what else to do but send them both to you. He simply will not understand me, and what he so poetically writes about the promise isn't in the least true, and I beg you emphatically to make it immediately perfectly clear to him that I am a thousand times less able ID say yes to him than I was before, and that he must leave me in peace. He makes himself ridiculous. To you, my dearest Father, I can say that I have bound myself elsewhere, to one who adores me and whom I love more than I can say. Dh, Papa! I could write pages to you! I mean Herr Morten Schwarzkopf, who is studying to be a physician, and who as BUDDENBRODKS soon as that happens will ask for my hand. I know that it is the rule of the family to marry a business man, but Morten belongs to the other section of respectable men, the scholars. He is not rich, which I know is important to you and Mamma: but I must tell you that, young as I am, I have learned that riches do not make every one happy. With a thousand kisses, Your obedient daughter, ANTONIE. P. S. I find the ring very poor gold, and too narrow.

MY DEAR TONY,

Your letter duly received. As regards its contents, I must tell you that I did not fail to communicate them to Herr Grunlich: the result was of such a nature as to shock me very much. You are a grown girl, and at a serious time of life, so I need not scruple to tell you the consequences that a frivolous step of yours may draw after it. Herr Griinlich, then, burst into despair at my announcement, declaring that he loved you so dearly, and could so little console himself for your loss, that he would be in a state to take his own life if you remain firm in your resolve. As I cannot take seriously what you write me of another attachment, I must beg you to master your excitement over the ring, and.consider everything again very carefully. It is my Christian conviction, my dear daughter, that one must have regard for the feelings of others. We do not know that you may not be made responsible by the most high Judge if a man whose feelings you have coldly and obstinately scorned should tres-pass against his own life. But the thing I have so often told you by word of mouth, I must recall again to your remem-brance, and I am glad to have the occasion to repeat it in writing; for though speech is more vivid and has the more immediate effect, the written word has the advantage that it can be chosen with pains and fixed in a form well-weighed and calculated by the writer, to be read over and over again, with proportionate effect.--My child, we are not born for that which, with our short-sighted vision, we reckon to be our own small personal happiness. We are not free, sepa-rate, and independent entities, but like links in a chain, and 147 We could not by any means be what we are without those who went before us and showed us the way, by following the straight and narrow path, not looking to right or left. Your path, it seems to me, has lain all these weeks sharply marked out for you, and you would not be my daughter, nor the granddaughter of your Grandfather who rests in God, nor a worthy member of our own family, if you really have it in your heart, alone, wilfully, and light-headedly to choose your own unregulated path. Your Mother, Thomas, Christian, and I beg you, my dear Antonie, to weigh all this in your heart. Mile. Jungmann and Clara greet you affectionately, likewise Clothilde, who has been the last several weeks with her father at Thankless. We all rejoice at the thought of em-bracing you once more.

With unfailing affection,

YOUR LOVING FATHER.

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CHAPTER XI

IT rained in streams. Heaven, earth, and sea were in flood, while the driving wind took the rain and flung it against the panes as though not drops but brooks were flowing down and making them impossible to see through. Complaining and despairing voices sounded in the chimney. When Morten Schwarzkopf went out into the verandah with his pipe shortly after dinner to look at the sky, he found there a gentleman with a long, narrow yellow-checked ulster and a grey hat. A closed carriage, its top glistening with wet, its wheels clogged with mud, was before the door. Morten stared irresolutely into the rosy face of the gentleman. He had mutton-chop whiskers that looked as though they had been dressed with gold paint. The gentleman in the ulster looked at Morten as one looks at a servant, blinking gently without seeing him, and said in a soft voice: "Is Herr Pilot-Captain Schwarzkopf at home?" "Yes," stammered Morten, "I think my Father--" Hereupon the gentleman fixed his eyes upon him; they were as blue as a goose's. "Are you Herr Morten Schwarzkopf?" he asked. "Yes, sir," answered Morten, trying to keep his face straight. "Ah--indeed!" remarked the gentleman in the ulster, and went on, "Have the goodness to announce me to your Father, young man. My name is Grunlich." Morten led the gentleman through the verandah, opened for him the right-hand door that led into the office, and ivent back into the sitting-room to tell his Father. Then the youth sat down at the round table, resting his elbow on it, and seemed, without noticing his Mother, wlio was sitting at the 149 dark window mending stockings, to busy himself with the "wretched news-sheet" which had nothing in it except the an-nouncements of the silver wedding of Consul Su-and-Su. Tony was resting in her room. The pilot-captain entered his office with the air of a man satisfied with his meal. His uniform-coat stood open over the usual white waistcoat. His face was red, and his ice-grey beard coldly set off against it; his tongue travelled about agreeably among his teeth, making his good mouth take the most extraordinary shapes. He bowed shortly, jerkily, with the air of one conforming to the conventions as he under-stood them. "Good afternoon," he said. "At your service." Herr Grunlich, on his side, bowed with deliberation, al-though one corner of his mouth seemed to go down. He said softly: "Ahem!" The office was rather a small room, the walls of which had wainscoting for a few feet and then simple plaster. Curtains, yellow with smoke, hung before the window, on whose panes the rain beat unceasingly. On the right of the door was a rough table covered with papers, above it a large map of Europe, and a smaller one of the Baltic Sea fastened to the wall. From the middle of the ceiling hung the well-cut model of a ship under full sail. The Captain made his guest take the sloping sofa, covered with cracked oil-cloth, that stood opposite the door, and made himself comfortable in a wooden arm-chair, folding his hands across his stomach; while Herr Grunlich, his ulster tightly buttoned up, his hat on his knees, sat bolt upright on th& edge of the sofa. "My name is, I repeat, Grunlich," he said; "from Hamburg, I may say by way of introduction that I am a close business friend of Herr Buddenbrook." "Servant, Herr Grunlich; pleased to make your acquaint-ance. Won't you make yourself comfortable? Have a glass of grog after your journey? I'll send right into the kitchen."

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"I must permit myself to remark that my time is limited, my carriage is waiting, and I am really obliged to ask for the favour of a few words with you." "At your service," repeated Heir Schwarzkopf, taken aback. There was a pause. "Herr Captain," began Herr Grunlich, wagging his head with determination and throwing himself back on his seat. After this he was silent again; and by way of enhancing the effect of his address he shut his mouth tight, like a purse drawn together with strings. "Herr Captain," he repeated, and went on without further pause, "The matter about which I have come to you directly concerns the young lady who has been for some weeks stop-ping in your house." "Mademoiselle Buddenbrook?" asked the Consul. "Precisely," assented Herr Gr�. He looked down at the floor, and spoke in a voice devoid of expression. Hard lines came out at the corners of his mouth. "I am obliged to inform you," he went on in a sing-song tone, his sharp eyes jumping from one point in the room to another and then to the window, "that some time ago I pro-posed for the hand of Mademoiselle Buddenbrook. I am in possession of the fullest confidence of both parents, and the young lady herself has unmistakably given me a claim to her hand, though no betrothal has taken place in form." "You don't say--Cod keep us!" said Herr Schwarzkopf, in a sprightly tone. "I never heard that before! Congratulations, Herr--er--Gr�. She's a good girl--genuine good stuff." "Thank you for the compliment," said Herr Gr�, coldly. He went on in his high sing-song: "What brings me to you on this occasion, my good Herr Captain, is the circum-stance that certain difficulties have just arisen--and these dif-ficulties--appear to have their source in your house--?" He spoke the last words in a questioning tone, as if to say, "Can 151 this disgraceful state of things be true, or have my ears de-ceived me?" Herr Schwarzkopf answered only by lifting his eyebrows as high as they would go, and clutching the arms of his chair with his brown, blond-felled fisherman's hands. "Yes. This is the fact. So I am informed," Herr Gr�h said, with dreary certitude. "I hear that your son--studiusus medicinae, I am led to understand--has allowed him-self--of course unconsciously--to encroach upon my rights. I hear that he has taken advantage of the present visit of the young lady to extract certain promises from her." "What?" shouted the pilot-captain, gripping the arms of his chair and springing up. "That we shall soon--we can soon see--!" With two steps he was at the door, tore it open, and shouted down the corridor in a voice that would have out-roared the wildest seas: "Meta, Morten! Come in here, both of you." "I shall regret it exceedingly if the assertion of my prior rights runs counter to your fatherly hopes, Herr Captain." Diederich Swarzkopf turned and stared, with his sharp blue eyes in their wrinkled setting, straight into the stranger's face, as though he strove in vain to comprehend his words. "Sir!" he said. Then, with a voice that sounded as though he had just burnt his throat with hot grog, "I'm a simple sort of a man, and don't know much about landlubber's tricks and skin games; but if you mean, maybe, that--well, sir, you can just set it down right away that you've got on the wrong tack, and are making a pretty bad miscalculation about my fatherly hopes. I know who my son is, and I know who Mademoiselle Buddenbrook is, and there's too much respect and too much pride in my carcase to be making any plans of the sort you've mentioned.--And now," he roared, jerking his head toward the door, "it's your turn to talk, boy. You tell me what this affair is; what is this I hear--hey?" Frau Schwarzkopf and her son stood in the doorway, she innocently arranging her apron, he with the air of a hardened sinner. Herr Gr� did not rise at their entrance. He waited, erect and composed, on the edge of the sofa, buttoned up tight in his ulster. "So you've been behaving like a silly fool?" bellowed the-captain to Morten. The young man had his thumb stuck between the buttons of his jacket. He scowled and puffed out his cheeks defiantly. "Yes, Father," he said, "Fraulein Buddenbrook and I--" "Well, then, I'll just tell you you're a perfect Tom-fool, a young ninny, and you'll be packed off to-morrow for Gottin-gen--to-morrow, understand? It's all damned childish non-sense, and rascality into the bargain." "Good heavens, Diederich," said Frau Schwarzkopf, folding her hands, "you can't just say that, you know. Who knows--?" She stopped, she said no more; but it was- plain from her face that a mother's beautiful dream had been shat-tered in that moment. "Would the gentleman like to see the young lady?" Schwarz-kopf turned to Herr Gr� and spoke in a harsh voice. "She is upstairs in her room asleep," Frau Schwarzkopf said with feeling. "I regret," said Herr Gr�, and he got up, obviously relieved. "But I repeat that my time is limited, and the car-riage waits. I permit myself," he went on, describing with his hat a motion in the direction of Herr Schwarzkopf, "to acknowledge to you, Herr Captain, my entire recognition of your manly and high-principled bearing. I salute you. Good-bye." Diederich Schwarzkopf did not offer to shake hands with him. He merely gave a jerky bow with the upper part of his heavy figure, that had an air of saying: "This is the proper thing, I suppose." Herr Gr�, with measured tread, passed between Morten and his mother and went out the door.