Some six months later Consul Buddenbrook returned with his bride from
Italy. The March snows lay in Broad Street as the carriage drove up at
five o’clock before the front door of their simple painted façade. A
few children and grown folk had stopped to watch the home-coming pair
descend. Frau Antonie Grünlich stood proudly in the doorway, behind her
the two servant-maids, with white caps, bare arms, and thick striped
skirts--she had engaged them beforehand for her sister-in-law. Flushed
with pleasure and industry, she ran impetuously down the steps; Gerda
and Thomas climbed out of the trunk-laden carriage wrapped in their
furs; and she drew them into the house in her embrace.
“Here you are! You lucky people, to have travelled so far in the world.
‘Knowest thou the house? High-pillared are its walls!’ Gerda, you are
more beautiful than ever; here, I must kiss you--no, so, on the mouth.
How are you, Tom, old fellow?--yes, I must kiss you too. Marcus says
everything has gone well here. Mother is waiting for you at home, but
you can first just make yourselves comfortable. Will you have some tea?
Or a bath? Everything is ready--you won’t complain. Jacobs did his
best--and I have done all I could, too.”
They went together into the vestibule, and the servants brought in
the luggage with the help of the coachman. Tony said: “The rooms here
in the parterre you will probably not need for the present. _For the
present_,” she repeated, running her tongue over her upper lip. “Look,
this is pretty,” and she opened a door directly next the vestibule.
“Simple oak furniture, ivy at the windows. Over there, the other side
of the corridor, is another room, a larger one. Here on the right are
the kitchen and larder. But let’s go up. I will show you everything.”
They went up the stairs, which were covered with a dark-red runner.
Above, behind a glass partition, was a narrow corridor which led to the
dining-room. This had dark-red damask wall-paper, a heavy round table
upon which the samovar was steaming, a massive sideboard, and chairs
of carved nut-wood, with rush seats. Then there was a comfortable
sitting-room upholstered in grey, separated by portières from a small
salon with a bay-window and furniture in green striped rep. A fourth of
this whole storey was occupied by a large hall with three windows.
Then they went into the sleeping-room, on the right of the corridor.
It had flowered hangings and solid mahogany beds. Tony passed on to a
small door with open-work carving in the opposite wall, and displayed
a winding stair leading from the bedroom to the lower floors, the
bathroom, and the servants’ quarters.
“It is pretty here. I shall stop here,” said Gerda, and sank with a
deep breath into the reclining-chair beside one of the beds.
The Consul bent over and kissed her forehead. “Tired? I feel like that
too. I should like to tidy up a bit.”
“I’ll look after the tea,” said Tony Grünlich, “and wait for you in the
dining-room.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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