“God knows, I feel we have much to learn from the July Monarchy,” the Consul said, with serious zeal. “The friendly and helpful attitude of French constitutionalism toward the new, practical ideals and interests of our time ... is something we should be deeply thankful for....” “Practical ideals--well, ye-es--” The elder Buddenbrook gave his jaws a moment’s rest and played with his gold snuff-box. “Practical ideals--well--h’m--they don’t appeal to me in the least.” He dropped into dialect, out of sheer vexation. “We have trade schools and technical schools and commercial schools springing up on every corner; the high schools and the classical education suddenly turn out to be all foolishness, and the whole world thinks of nothing but mines and factories and making money.... That’s all very fine, of course. But in the long run, pretty stupid, isn’t it?... I don’t know why, but it irritates me like the deuce.... I don’t mean, Jean, that the July Monarchy is not an admirable régime....” Senator Langhals, as well as Gratjens and Köppen, stood by the Consul.... They felt that high praise was due to the French government, and to similar efforts that were being made in Germany. It was worthy of all respect--Herr Köppen called it “respeck.” He had grown more and more crimson from eating, and puffed audibly as he spoke. Pastor Wunderlich had not changed colour; he looked as pale, refined, and alert as ever, while drinking down glass after glass of wine. The candles burned down slowly in their sockets. Now and then they flickered in a draught and dispersed a faint smell of wax over the table. There they all sat, on heavy, high-backed chairs, consuming good heavy food from good heavy silver plate, drinking full-bodied wines and expressing their views freely on all subjects. When they began to talk shop, they slipped unconsciously more and more into dialect, and used the clumsy but comfortable idioms that seemed to embody to them the business efficiency and the easy well-being of their community. Sometimes they even used an overdrawn pronunciation by way of making fun of themselves and each other, and relished their clipped phrases and exaggerated vowels with the same heartiness as they did their food. The ladies had not long followed the discussion. Madame Kröger gave them the cue by setting forth a tempting method of boiling carp in red wine. “You cut it into nice pieces, my dear, and put it in the saucepan, add some cloves, and onions, and a few rusks, a little sugar, and a spoonful of butter, and set it on the fire.... But don’t wash it, on any account. All the blood must remain in it.”