Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann Read Free Book Online Page B

and the expression in his eyes had changed. They had looked dreamy all the evening; but now they stared into the candle-flame with a cold sharp gaze. "Either you give thirty-three thousand, three hundred and thirty-three marks to Gotthold, and fifteen thousand to the family in Frankfort--that makes forty-eight thousand, three hundred and thirty-five in all--or, you give nothing to Gotthold, and twenty-five thou-sand to the family in Frankfort. That means a gain of twenty- three thousand, three hundred and thirty-five for the firm, But there is more to it than that. If you give Gotthold a compensation for the house, you've started the hall rolling. He is likely to demand equal shares with my sister and me after your death, which would mean a loss of hundreds of thousands to the firm. The firm could not face it, and I, as sole head, could not face it either." He made a vigorous ges-ture and drew himself more erect than before. "No, Papa," he said, and his tone bespoke finality, "I must advise you not to give in." "Bravo!" cried the old man. "There's an end of it! N'en parlons plus! En avant! Let's get to bed." And he extinguished the last candle. They groped through the pitch-dark hall, and at the foot of the stairs they stopped and shook hands. "Good night, Jean. And cheer up. These little worries aren't anything. See you at breakfast!" The Consul went up to his rooms, and the old man felt his way along the baluster and down to the entresol, Soon the rambling old house lay wrapped in darkness and silence. Hopes, fears, and ambitions all slumbered, while the rain fell and the autumn wind whistled around gables and street cor-ners.
    PART TWO
    CHAPTER I
    IT was mid-April, two and a half years later. The spring was more advanced than usual, and with the spring had come ID the Buddenbrook family a joy that made old Johann sing about the house and moved his Son to the depths of his heart. The Consul sat at the big roll-top writing-desk in the win-dow of the breakfast-room, at nine o'clock one Sunday morning. He had before him a stout leather portfolio stuffed with papers, from among which he had drawn a giltedged note-book with an embossed cover, and was busily writing in it in his small, thin, flowing script. His hand hurried over the paper, never pausing except to dip his quill in the ink. Both the windows were open, and the spring breeze wafted delicate odours into the room, lifting the curtains gently. The garden was full of young buds and bathed in tender sun-shine; a pair of birds called and answered each other pertly. The sunshine was strong, too, on the white linen of the break-fast-table and the gilt-borders of the old china. The folding doors into the bed-room were open, and the voice of old Johann could be heard inside, singing softly to a quaint and ancient tune: A kind papa, a worthy man, He rocks the baby in the cradle, He feeds the children sugar-plums And stirs the porridge with a ladle. He sat beside the little green-curtained cradle, close to the Frau Consul's lofty bed, and rocked it softly with one hand. Madame Antoinette, in a white lace cap and an apron over 49 her striped frock, was busy with flannel and linen at the table. The old couple had given up their bedroom to the Frau Consul for the time being, to make things easier for the servants, and were sleeping in the unused room in the en-tresol. Consul Buddenbrook gave scarcely a glance at the adjoining room, so absorbed was he in his work. His face wore an expression of earnest, almost suffering piety, his mouth slightly open, the chin a little dropped; his eyes filled from time to time. He wrote: "Today, April 14, 1838, at six o'clock in the morning, my dear wife, Elizabeth Buddenbrook, born Kr�, was, by God's gracious help, happily delivered of a daughter, who will re-ceive the name of Clara in Holy Baptism. Yea, the Lord hath holpen mightily; for according to Doctor Grabow, the birth was somewhat premature, and her condition not of the best .5he suffered