Buddenbrooks (15 page)

CHAPTER XV

THOMAS BUDDENBRooK went down Meng Street as far as the "Five Houses." He avoided Broad Street so as not to be ac-costed by acquaintances and obliged to greet them. With his hands deep in the big pockets of his warm dark grey overcoat, he walked, sunk in thought, over the hard, sparkling snow, which crunched under his boots. He went his own way, and whither it led no one knew but himself. The sky was pale blue and clear, the air biting and crisp--a still, severe, clear weather, with five degrees of frost; in short, a matchless Feb-ruary day. Thomas walked down the "Five Houses," crossed Bakers' Alley, and. went along a narrow cross-street into Fishers' Lane. He followed this street, which led down to the Trave parallel to Meng Street, for a few steps, and paused before a small house, a modest flower-shop, with a narrow door and dingy show-window, where a few pots of onions stood on a pane of green glass. He went in, whereupon the bell above the door began to give tongue, like a little watch-dog. Within, before the coun-ter, talking to the young saleswoman, was a little fat elderly lady in a Turkey shawl. She was choosing a pot of flowers, examining, smelling, criticizing, chattering, and constantly obliged to wipe her mouth with her handkerchief. Thomas Buddenbrook greeted her politely and stepped to one side, She was a poor relation of the Langhals', a good-natured garrulous old maid who bore the name of one of the best families without herself belonging to their set: that is, she was not asked to the large dinners, but to the small coffee circles. She was known to almost all the world as Aunt 167 BUDDENBRDDK5 Loltchen. She turned toward the door, with her pot of flowers, wrapped up in tissue paper, under her arm; and Thomas, after greeting her again, said in an elevated voice to the shop girl, "Give me a couple of roses, please. Never mind the kind--well, La France," Then, after Aunt Lottchen had shut the door behind her and gone away, he said in a lower voice, "Put them away again, Anna. How are you, little Anna? Here I am--and I've come with a heavy heart." Anna wore a white apron over her simple black frock. She was wonderfully pretty. Delicately built as a fawn, she had an almost mongol type of face, somewhat prominent cheek-bones, narrow black eyes full of a soft gleam, and a pale yellow skin the like of which is rare anywhere. Her hands, of the same tint, were narrow, and more beautiful than a shop girl's are wont to be. She went behind the counter at the right end, so that she could not be seen through the shop-window. Thomas followed on the outside of the counter and, bending over, kissed her on the lips and the eyes. "You are quite frozen, poor boy," she said. "Five degrees," said Tom. "I didn't notice it, I've felt so sad coming over." He sat down on the table, keeping her hand in his, and went on: "Listen, Anna; we'll be sensible to-day, won't we? The time has come." "Dh, dear," she said miserably, and lifted her apron to her eyes. "It had to happen some time, Anna. No, don't weep. We were going to be reasonable, weren't we? What else is there to do? One has to bear such things." "When?" asked Anna, sobbing. "Day after to-morrow." "Oh, God, no! Why to-morrow? A week longer--five days! Please, oh, please!" "Impossible, dear Anna. Everything 13 arranged and in order. They are expecting me in Amsterdam. I couldn't make it a day longer, no matter how much I wanted." "And that is so far away--so far away!" "Amsterdam? Nonsense, that isn't far. We can always think of each other, can't we? And I'll write to you. You'll sec, I'll write directly I've got there." "Do you remember," she said, "a year and a half ago, at the Rifle-club fair?" He interrupted her ardently. "Do I remember? Yes, a year and a half ago! I took you for an Italian. I bought a pink and put it in my button-hole.--I still have it--I am taking it with me to Amsterdam.--What a heat: how hot and dusty it was on the meadow!" "Yes, you bought me a glass of lemonade from the next booth. I remember it like yesterday. Everything smelled of fatty-cakes and people." "But it was fine! We knew right away how we felt--about each other!" "You wanted to take me on the carroussel, but I couldn't go; I had to be in the shop. The old woman would have scolded." "No, I know it wouldn't have done, Anna." She said softly and clearly, "But that is the only thing I've refused you." He kissed her again, on the lips and the eyes. "Adieu, darling little Anna. We must begin to say good-bye." "Oh, you will come back to-morrow?" "Yes, of course, and day after to-morrow early, if I can get away.--But there is one thing I want to say to you, Anna. I am going, after all, rather far away. Amsterdam is a l^g way off--and you are staying here. But--don't throw yourself away, I tell you." She wept into her apron, holding it up with her free hand to her face. "And you--and you?" "God knows, Anna, what will happen. One isn't young for ever--you are a sensible girl, you have never said any-thing about marriage and that sort of thing--" "God forbid--that I should ask such a thing of you!" "One is carried along--you see. If I live, I shall take over the business, and make a good match--you see, I am open with you at parting, Anna. I wish you every happiness, darling, darling little Anna. But don't throw yourself away, do you hear? For you haven't done that--with me--I swear it." It was warm in the shop. A moist scent of earth and flowers was in the air. Outside, the winter sun was hurrying to its repose, and a pure delicate sunset, like one painted on porcelain, beautified the sky across the river. People hurried past the window, their chins tucked into their turned-up collars; no one gave a glance into the corner of the little flower-shop, at the two who stood there saying their last farewells.

PART FOUR

CHAPTER I

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 space 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-glasses (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 God 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-glasses, 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 God'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 assistance, 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 assures 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 principals; and this was of the greatest service to me. Aside from the honour of association with the family of the head of the firm, one acquires an advocate in the person of the principal'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 competition 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 God 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. God's blessing on you, my dear son. Work, pray, and save.