Buddenbrooks (10 page)

CHAPTER III

THIS year the Buddenbrooks took no holiday during Chris-tian's and Clara's vacation. The Consul said he was too busy; but it was Tony's unsettled affair as well, that kept them lin-gering in Mengstrasse. A very diplomatic letter, written by the Consul himself, had been dispatched to Herr Gr�; but the progress of the wooing was hindered by Tony's ob-stinacy. She expressed herself in the most childish way. "Heaven forbid, Mamma," she would say. "I simply can't zndure him!" with tremendous emphasis on the second syl-lable. Dr she would explain solemnly, "Father" (Tony never otherwise said anything but "Papa"), "I can never yield him my consent." And at this point the matter would assuredly have stuck, had it not been for events that occurred some ten days after the talk in the breakfast-room--in other words, about the mid-dle of July. It was afternoon--a hot blue afternoon. The Frau Consul was out, and Tony sat with a book alone at the window of the landscape room, when Anton brought her a card. Be-fore she had time to read the name, a young man in a bell-skirted coat and pea-green pantaloons entered the room. It was, of course, Herr Gr�, with an expression of im-ploring tenderness upon his face. Tony started up indignantly and made a movement to flee into the next room. How could one possibly talk to a man who had proposed for one's hand? Her heart was in her throat and she had gone very pale. While he had been at a safe distance she had hugely enjoyed the solemn conferences with her Father and Mother and the suddenly enhanced im- BUDDENBRDDK5 portance of her own person and destiny. But now, here he was--he stood before her. What was going to happen? And again she felt that she was going to weep. At a rapid stride, his head tipped on one side, his arms outstretched, with the air of a man who says: "Here I am, kill me if you will!" he approached. "What a providence!" he cried. "I find you here, Antonie--" (He said "Antonie"!) Tony stood erect, her novel in her right hand. She stuck out her lips and gave her head a series of little jerks upward, relieving her irritation by stressing, in that manner, each word as she spoke it. She got out "What is the matter with you?"--But the tears were already rising. And Herr Gr�'s own excitement was too great for him to realize the check. "How could I wait longer? Was I not driven to return?" he said in impassioned tones. "A week ago I had your Fa-ther's letter, which filled me with hope. I could bear it no longer. Could I thus linger on in half-certainty? I threw myself into a carriage, I hastened hither, I have taken a couple of rooms at the City of Hamburg--and here I am, Antonie, to hear from your lips the final word which will make me happier than I can express." Tony was stunned. Her tears retreated abashed. This, then, was the effect of her Father's careful letter, which had indefinitely postponed the decision. Two or three times she stammered: "You are mistaken--you are mistaken." Herr Gr� had drawn an arm-chair close to her seat in the window. He sat down, he obliged her to sit as well, and, bowing over her hand, which, limp with indecision, she resigned to him, he went on in a trembling voice: "Fraulein Antonie, since first I saw you, that afternoon,--do you re-member that afternoon, when I saw you, a vision of loveliness, in your own family circle?--Since then, your name has been indelibly written on my heart." He went back, corrected himself, and said "graven": "Since that day, Fraulein Anto-nie, it has been my only, my most ardent wish, to win your beautiful hand. What your Father's letter permitted me only 109 to hope, that I implore you to confirm to me now in all cer-tainty. I may feel sure of your consent--I may be assured of it?" He took her other hand in his and looked deep into her wide-open, frightened eyes. He had left off his worsted gloves to-day, and his hands were long and white, marked with blue veins. Tony stared at his pink face, at his wart, at his eyes, which were as blue as a goose's. "Oh, no, no," she broke out, rapidly, in terror. And then she added, "No, I will never yield my consent." She took great pains to speak firmly, but she was already in tears. "How have I deserved this doubt and hesitation?" he asked in a lower, well-nigh reproachful tone. "I know you are a maiden cherished and sheltered by the most loving care. But I swear to you, I pledge you my word of honour as a man, that I would carry you in my arms, that as my wife you would lack nothing, that you would live in Hamburg a life alto-gether worthy of you--" Tony sprang up. She freed her hand and, with the tears rolling down her cheeks, cried out in desperation, "No, no! I said no! I am refusing you--for heaven's sake, can't you understand?" Then Herr Gr� rose up too. He took one backward step and stretched out his arms toward her, palms up. Seriously, like a man of honour and resolution, he spoke. "Mademoiselle Buddenbrook, you understand that I cannot permit myself to be insulted?" "But I am not insulting you, Herr Gr�," said Tony, repenting her brusqueness. Oh, dear, oh dear, uhy did all this have to happen to her? Such a wooing as this she had never imagined. She had supposed that one only had to say: "Your offer does me great honour, but I cannot accept it," and that would be an end of the matter. "Your offer does me great honour," she said, as calmly as she could, "but I can-not accept it. And now I must go; please EXCUSE me--I am busy--" But Herr Gr� stood in front of her. "You reject me?" he said gloomily. "Yes," Tony said; adding with tact, "unfortunately." Herr Gr� gave a gusty sigh. He took two big steps backward, bent his torso to one side, pointed with his fore-finger to the carpet and said in an awful voice: "Antonie!" Thus for the space of a moment they stood, he in a posture of commanding rage, Tony pale, weepy, and trembling, her damp handkerchief to her mouth. Then he turned from her and, with his hands on his back, measured the room twice through, as if he were at home. He paused at the window and looked out into the early dusk. Tony moved cautiously toward the glass doors, but she got only as far as the middle of the room when he stood beside her again. "Tony!" he murmured, and gently took her hand. Then he sank, yes, he sank slowly upon his knees beside her! His two gold whiskers lay across her hand! "Tony!" he repeated, "fou behold me here--you see to what you have brought me. Have you a heart to feel what I endure? Listen. You behold a man condemned to death, de-voted to destruction, a man who--who will certainly die of grief," he interrupted himself, "if you scorn his love. Here I lie. Can you find it in your heart to say: 'I despise you'?" "No, no," Tony said quickly in a consoling tone. Her tears were conquered, pity stirred. Heavens, how he must adore her, to go on like that, while she herself felt com-pletely indifferent! Was it to her, Tony Buddenbrook, that all this was happening? One read of it in the novels. But here in real life was a man in a frock-coat, on his knees in front of her, weeping, imploring. The idea of marrying him was simply idiotic, because she had found him silly; but just at this moment he did not seem silly; heavens, no! Honour-able, upright, desperate entreaty were in his voice and face. "No, no," she repeated, bending over him quite touched. "I don't despise you, Herr Gr�. How can you say such a thing? Do get up--please do!" 'Then you will not kill me?" he asked again; and she an-swered, in a consoling, almost motherly tone, "No, no." "That is a promise!" he cried, springing to his feet. But 111 when he saw Tony's frightened face he got down again and went on in a wheedling tone: "Good, good, say no more, Antonie. Enough, for this time. We shall speak of this again. No more now--farewell. I will return--farewell!" He had got quickly to his feet. He took his broad grey hat from the table, kissed her hand, and was out through the glass doors in a twinkling. Tony saw him take his stick from the hall and disappear down the corridor. She stood, bewildered and worn out, in the middle of the room, with the damp handkerchief in one of her limp hands.

CHAPTER IV

CONSUL BUDDENBROOK said to his wife: "If I thought Tony had a motive in refusing this match--But she is a child, Betsy. She enjoys going to balls and being courted by the young fellows; she is quite aware that she is pretty and from a good family. Of course, it is possible that she is consciously or unconsciously seeking a mate herself--but I know the child, and I feel sure she has never yet found her heart, as the saying goes. If you asked her, she would turn this way and that way, and consider--but she would find nobody. She is a child, a little bird, a hoyden. Directly she once says yes, she will find her place. She will have carte blanche to set herself up, and she will love her husband, after a few days. He is no beau, God knows. But he is perfectly presentable. One mustn't ask for five legs on a sheep, as we say in business. If she waits for somebody to come along who is an Adonis and a good match to boot--well, God bless us, Tony Budden-brook could always find a husband, but it's a risk, after all. Every day is fishing-day, but not every day catching-day, to use another homely phrase--. Yesterday I had a long talk with Gr�. He is a most constant wooer. He showed me all his books. They are good enough to frame. I told him I was completely satisfied. The business is young, but in fine condition--assets must be somewhere about a hundred and twenty thousand thaler, and that is obviously only the situation at the moment, for he makes a good slice every year. I asked the Duchamps. What they said doesn't sound at all bad. They don't know his connections, but he lives like a gentleman, mingles in society, and his business is known to be expanding. And some other people in Hamburg have told me 113 things--a banker named Kesselmeyer, for instance--that I feel pleased with. In short, as you know, Betsy, I can only wish for the consummation of this match, which would be highly advantageous for the family and the firm. I am heartily sorry the child feels so pressed. She hardly speaks at all, and acts as if she were in a slate of siege. But I can't bring myself to refuse him out and out. You know, Betsy, there is another thing I can't emphasize often enough: in these last years we haven't been doing any too brilliantly. Not that there's anything to complain of. Oh, no. Faithful work always finds its reward. Business goes quietly on--but a bit too quietly for me. And it only does that because I am eternally vigilant. We haven't perceptibly advanced since Father was taken away. The times aren't good for merchants. No, our prospects are not too bright. Our daughter is in a position to make a marriage that would undoubtedly be honourable and advantageous; she is of an age to marry, and she ought to do it. Delay isn't advisable--it isn't advisable, Betsy. Speak to her again. I said all I could, this after-noon." Tony was besieged, as the Consul said. She no longer said no--but she could not bring herself to say yes. She could not wring a "yes" out of herself--God knew why; she did not. Meanwhile, first her Father would draw her aside and speak seriously, and then her Mother would take up the tale, both pressing for a decision. Uncle Gotlhold and family were not brought into the affair; their attitude toward the Mengstrasse was not exactly sympathetic. But Sesemi Weich-brodt got wind of it and came to give good advice, with correct enunciation. Even Mademoiselle Jungmann said, "Tony, my little one, why should you worry? You will always be in the best society." And Tony could not pay a visit to the admired silken salon outside the Castle Gate without getting a dose from old Madame Kr� "A propos, little one, I hear there is an affair! I hope you are going to listen to reason, child." One Sunday, as she sat in St. Mary's with her parents and brothers, Pastor K�ng began preaching from the text about the wife leaving father and mother and cleaving only to her husband. His language was so violent that she began listening wilh a jump, staring up to see if he were looking at her. No, thank goodness, his head was turned in the other direction, and he seemed to be preaching in general to all the faithful. Still, it was plain that this was a new attack upon her, --every word struck home. A young, a still childish girl, he said, could have as yet no will and no wisdom; and if she set herself up against the loving advice of her parents she was as deserving of punishment as the guilty are; she was one of those whom the Lord spews out of his mouth. With this phrase, which the kind Pastor Rolling adored, she encoun-tered a piercing glance from his eyes, as he made a threatening gesture with his right arm. Tony saw how her Father, sitting next to her,, raised his hand, as though he would say, "Not so hard." But it was perfectly plain that either he or her Mother had let the Pastor into the secret. Tony crouched in her place with her face like fire, and felt the eyes of all the world upon her. Next Sunday she flatly refused to go to church. She moved dumbly about the house, she laughed no more, she lost her appetite. Sometimes she gave such heart-breaking sighs as would move a stone to pity. She was growing thin-ner too, and would soon lose her freshness. It would not do. At length the Consul said: "This cannot go on, Betsy. We must not ill-use the child. She must get away a bit, to rest and be able to think quietly. You'll see she will listen to reason then. I can't leave, and the holidays are almost over. But there is no need for us to go. Yesterday old Schwarzkopf from Travem�as here, and I spoke to him. He said he would be glad to take the 115 child for a while. I'd give them something for it. She would have a good home, where she could bathe and be in the fresh air and get clear in her mind. Tom can take her--so it's all arranged. Better to-morrow than day after." Tony was much pleased with this idea. True, she hardly ever saw Herr Gr�ch, but she knew he was in town, in touch with her parents. Any day he might appear before her and begin shrieking and importuning. She would feel safer at Travem�in a strange house. So she packed her trunk with alacrity, and on one of the last days in July she mounted with Tom into the majestic Kr� equipage. She said good-bye in the best of spirits; and breathed more freely as they drove out of the Castle Gate.

CHAPTER V

THE road to Travem�irst crosses the ferry and then goes straight ahead. The grey high-road glided away under the hoofs of Lebrecht Kr�'s fat brown Mecklenburgs. The sound of their trotting was hollow and rhythmical, the sun burned hot, and dust concealed the meagre view. The family had eaten at one o'clock, an hour earlier than usual, and the brother and sister set out punctually at two. They would arrive shortly after four; for what a hired carriage could do in three hours, the Kr� pair were mettlesome enough to make in two. Tony sat half asleep, nodding under her broad straw hat and her lace-trimmed parasol, which she held tipped back against the hood of the chaise. The parasol was twine-grey, with cream-coloured lace, and matched her neat, simply cut frock. She reclined in the luxurious ease proper to the equipage, with her feet, in their white stockings and strap shoes, daintily crossed before her. Tom was already twenty years old. He wore an extremely well cut blue suit, and sat smoking Russian cigarettes, with his hat on the back of his head. He was not very tall; but already he boasted a considerable moustache, darker in tone than his brows and eyelashes. He had one eyebrow lifted a trifle--a habit with him--and sat looking at the dust and the trees that fled away behind them as the carriage rolled on. Tony said: "I was never so glad to come to Travem�efore--for various reasons. You needn't laugh, Tom. I wish I could leave a certain pair of yellow mutton-chops even further behind! And then, it will be an entirely different Travem�t the Schwarzkopfs', on the sea front. I shan't 117 be bothered with the Kurhouse society, I can tell you that much. I am not in the mood for it. Besides, that--that man could come there too as well as not. He has nerve enough--it wouldn't trouble him at all. Some day he'd be bobbing up in front of me and putting on all his airs and graces." Tom threw away the stub of his cigarette and took a fresh one out of the box, a pretty little affair with an inlaid picture inside the lid, of an overturned troika being set upon by wolves. It was a. present from a Russian customer of the Consul. The cigarettes, those biting little trifles with the yellow mouthpiece, were Tom's passion. He smoked quanti-ties of them, and had the bad habit of inhaling the smoke, breathing it slowly out again as he talked. "Yes," he said. "As far as that goes, the garden of the Kurhouse is alive with Hamburgers. Consul Fritsche, who has bought it, is a Hamburger himself. He must be doing a wonderful business now, Papa says. But you'll miss some-thing if you don't take part in it a bit. Peter Dohlmann is there--he never stops in town this time of year. His business goes on at a jog-trot, all by itself, I suppose. Funny! Well--and Uncle Justus comes out for a little on a Sunday, of course, to visit the roulette table. Then there are the Mollen-dorpfs and the Kistenmakers, I suppose, in full strength, and the Hagenstroms--" "H'm. Yes, of course. They couldn't get on without Sarah Semlinger!" "Her name is Laura, my child. Let us be accurate." "And Julchen with her, of course. Julchen ought to get engaged to August M�ndorpf this summer--and she will do it, too. After all, they belong together. Disgusting, isn't it, Tom? This adventurer's family--" "Yes, but good heavens, they are the firm of Strunck and Hagenstrurn. That is the point." "Naturally, they make the firm. Of course. And every-body knows how they do it. With their elbows. Pushing and shoving--entirely without courtesy or elegance. Grand-father said that Heinrich Hagenstr�ould coin money out of paving-stones. Those were his very words." "Yes, yes, that is exactly it. It is money talks. And this match is perfectly good business. Julchen will be a M�n-dorpf, and August will get a snug position--" "Oh, you just want to make me angry, Tom, that's all. You know how I despise that lot." Tom began to laugh. "Goodness, one has to get along with them," he replied. "As Papa said the other day, they are the coming people; while the M�ndorpfs, for example--And one can't deny that the Hagenstrbms are clever. Hermann is already useful in the business, and Moritz is very able. He finished school brilliantly, in spite of his weak chest; and he is going to study law." 'That's all very well, Tom, but all the same I am glad there are; families that don't have to knuckle down to them. For instance, we Buddenbrooks--" "Oh," Tom said, "don't let's begin to boast. Every family has its own skeleton," he went on in a lower voice, with a glance at Jock's broad back. "For instance, God knows what state Uncle Julius' affairs are in. Papa shakes his head when he speaks of him, and Grandfather Kr� has had to come forward once or twice with large sums, I hear. The cousins aren't just the thing, either. J�wants to study, but he still hasn't come up for his finals; and they are not very well satisfied with Jacob, at Dalbeck and Company. He is always in debt, even with a good allowance, and when Uncle Justus re-fuses to send any more, Aunt Rosalie does--No, I find it doesn't do to throw stones. If you want to balance the scale with the Hagenstroms, you'd better marry Gr�." "Did we get into this wagon to discuss that subject?--Dh, yes, I suppose you're right. I ought to marry him--but I won't think about it now! I want to forget it. We are going to the Schwarzkopfs'. I've never seen them to know them: are they nice people?" 119 "Oh, old Diederich Schwarzkopf--he^B not such a bad old chap. Doesn't speak such atrocious dialrct, unless he's had more than five glasses of grog. Once he was at the office, and we went together to the Ships' Company. He drank like a tank. His father was born on a Norwegian freighter and grew up to be captain on the very same line. Diederich has had a good education; the pilot command is a responsible office, and pretty well paid. Diederich is an old bear--but very gallant with the ladies. Look cut: he'll flirt with you." "Ah--well, and his wife?" "I don't know her, myself. She must be nice, I should think. There is a son, too. He was in first or second, in my time at school, and is a. student now, I expect. Look, there's the sea. We shall be there inside a quarter of an hour." They drove for a while along the shore on an avenue bor-dered with young beech-trees. There was the water, blue and peaceful in the sunshine; the round yellow light-house tower came into view, then the bay and the breakwater, the red roofs of the little town, the harbour with its sails, tackle, and ship-ping. They drove between the first houses, passed the church, and rolled along the front close to the water and up to a pretty little bouse, the verandah of which was overhung with vines. Pilot-Captain Schwarzkopf stood before his door and took uff his seaman's cap as the caleche drove up. He was a broad, stocky man with a red face, sea-blue eyes, and a bristling grizzled beard that ran fan-shaped from one ear to the other. His mouth turned down at the corners, in one of which he held a wooden pipe. His smooth-shaven, red upper lip was hard and prominent; he looked thoroughly solid and re-spectable, with big bones and well-rounded paunch; and he wore a coat decorated with gold braid, underneath which a white pique waistcoat was visible. "Servant, Mademoiselle," he said, as he carefully lifted Tony from the caleche. "We know it's an honour you do us, coming to stop with us like this. Servant, Herr Buddenbrook. Papa well? And the honoured Frau Consul? Come in, come in! My wife has some sort of a bite ready, I suppose. Drive over to Peddersen's Inn," he said in his broadest dialect to the coachman, who was carrying in the trunk. "You'll find they take good care of the horses there." Then, turning to Thomas, "you'll stop the night with us, Herr Buddenbrook? Oh, yes, you must. The horses want a bait and a rest, and you wouldn't get home until after dark." "Upon my word, one lives at least as well here as at the Kurhouse," Tony said a quarter of an hour later, as they sat around the coffee-table in the verandah. "What wonder-ful air! You can smell the sea-weed from here. How frightfully glad I am to be in Travemiinde again!" Between the vine-clad columns of the verandah one could look out on the broad river-mouths, glittering in the sun; there were the piers and the boats, and the ferry-house on the "Prival" opposite, the projecting peninsula of Mecklenburg.--The clumsy, blue-bordered cups on the table were almost like basins. How different from the delicate old porcelain at home! But there was a bunch of flowers at Tony's place, the food looked inviting, and the drive had whetted her ap-petite. "Yes, Mademoiselle will see, she will pick up here fast enough," the housewife said. "She looks a little poorly, if I might say so. That is the town air, and the parties." Frau Schwarzkopf was the daughter of a Schlutup pastor. She was a head shorter than Tony, rather thin, and looked to be about fifty. Her hair was still black, and neatly dressed in a large-meshed net. She wore a dark brown dress with white crocheted collar and cuffs. She was spotless, gentle, and hospitable, urging upon her guests the currant bread that lay in a boat-shaped basket surrounded by cream, butter, sugar, and honeycomb. This basket had a border of head-work embroidery, done by little Meta, the eight-year-old daughter, who now sat next her mother, dressed in a plain frock, her flaxen hair in a thick pigtail .121 Frau Schwarzkopf made excuses for Tony's room, whither she had already been to make herself tidy after the journey. It was so very simple-- "Oh, all the better," Tony said. It had a view of the ocean, which was the main thing. And she dipped her fourth piece of currant bread into her coffee. Tom talked with the pilot-captain about the Wullenwewer, now undergoing re-pairs in the town. There came suddenly into the verandah a young man of some twenty years. He took off his grey felt hat, blushed, and bowed rather awkwardly. "Well, my son," said Herr Schwarzkopf, "you are late." He presented him to the guests: 'This is my son, studying to be a doctor. He is spending his vacation with us." He had mentioned the young man's name, but Tony failed to understand it. "Pleased to meet you," said Tony, primly. Tom rose and and shook hands. Young Schwarzkopf bowed again, put down his book, and took his place at the table, blushing afresh. He was of medium height, very slender, and as fair as he could possibly be. His youthful moustaches, colourless as the hair which covered his long head, were scarcely visible; and he had a complexion to match, a tint like translucent porcelain, which grew pink on the slightest provocation. His eyes, slightly darker than his father's, had the same not very animated but good-natured quizzical expression; and his features were regular and rather pleasing. When he began to eat he displayed unusually regular teeth, glistening in close ranks of polished ivory. For the rest, he wore a grey jacket buttoned up, with flaps on the pockets, and an elastic belt at the back. "Yes, I am sorry I am late," he said. His speech was somewhat slow and grating. "I was reading on the beach, and did not look soon enough at my watch." Then he ate silently, looking up now and then to glance at Tom and Tony. Later on, Tony being again urged by the housewife to take something, he said, "You can rely on the honey, Fraulein Buddenbrook; it is a pure nature product--one knows what one is eating. You must eat, you know. The air here con-sumes one--it accelerates the process of metabolism. If you do not eat well, you will get thin." He had a pleasant, naive, way of now and then bending forward as he spoke and looking at some other person than the one whom he addressed. His mother listened to him tenderly and watched Tony's face to see the impression he made. But old Schwarzkopf said, "Now, now, Herr Doctor. Don't be blowing off about your metabolism--we don't know anything about that sort of talk." Whereupon the young man laughed, blushed again, and looked at Tony's plate. The pilot-captain mentioned more than once his son's Chris-tian name, but Tony could never quite catch what it was. It sounded like Moor--or Mort; but the Father's broad, flat pronunciation was impossible to understand. They finished their meal. Herr Diederich sat blinking in the sun, his coat flung wide open over his white waistcoat, and he and his son took out their short pipes. Tom smoked his cigarettes, and the young people began a lively conversation, the subject of which was their old school and all the old school recollections. Tony took part gaily. They quoted Herr Stengel: "What! You were to make a line, and what are you making? A dash!" What a pity Christian was not here! he could imitate him so much better. Dnce Tom pointed to the flowers at Tony's place and said to his sister: "That trims things up uncommonly well, as Herr Gr� would say!" Whereat Tony, red with anger, gave him a push and darted an embarrassed glance at young Schwarzkopf. The coffee-hour had been unusually late, and they had pro-longed it. It was already half-past six, and twilight was be-ginning to descend over the Prival, when the captain got up. "The company will excuse me," he said; "I've some work down at the pilot-house. We'll have supper at eight o'clock, 123 if that suits the young folk. Or even a little later to-night, eh, Meta? And you" (here he used his son's name again), "don't be lolling about here. lust go and dig up your bones again. Fraulein Buddenbrook will want to unpack. Or per-haps the guests would like to go down on the beach. Only don't get in the way." "Diederich, for pity's sake, why shouldn't he sit still a bit?" Frau Schwarzkopf said, with mild reproach. "And if our guests like to go down on the beach, why shouldn't he go along? Is he to see nothing at all of our visitors?'