“Yes, he gave himself too many airs,” Tony went on. “He talked the whole time about himself--_his_ business is good, and _he_ is fond of nature, and _he_ likes such-and-such names, and _his_ name is Bendix--what is all that to us, I’d like to know? Everything he said was just to spread himself.” Her voice was growing louder all the time with vexation. “He said all the very things you like to hear, Mamma and Papa, and he said them just to make a fine impression on you both.” “That is no reproach, Tony,” the Consul said sternly. “Everybody puts his best foot foremost before strangers. We all take care to say what will be pleasant to hear. That is a commonplace.” “I think he is a good man,” Clothilde pronounced with drawling serenity--she was the only person in the circle about whom Herr Grünlich had not troubled himself at all. Thomas refrained from giving an opinion. “Enough,” concluded the Consul. “He is a capable, cultured, and energetic Christian man, and you, Tony, should try to bridle your tongue--a great girl of eighteen or nineteen years old, like you! And after he was so polite and gallant to you, too. We are all weak creatures; and you, let me say, are one of the last to have a right to throw stones. Tom, we’ll get to work.” Pert little Tony muttered to herself “A golden goat’s beard!” and scowled as before. CHAPTER II Tony, coming back from a walk some days later, met Herr Grünlich at the corner of Meng Street. “I was most grieved to have missed you, Fräulein,” he said. “I took the liberty of paying my respects to your Mother the other day, and I regretted your absence more than I can say. How delightful that I should meet you like this!” Fräulein Buddenbrook had paused as he began to speak; but her half-shut eyes looked no further up than the height of Herr Grünlich’s chest. On her lips rested the mocking, merciless smile with which a young girl measures and rejects a man. Her lips moved--what should she say? It must be something that would demolish this Herr Bendix Grünlich once and for all--simply annihilate him. It must be clever, witty, and effective, must at one and the same time wound him to the quick and impress him tremendously. “The pleasure is not mutual, Herr Grünlich,” said she, keeping her gaze meanwhile levelled at his chest. And after she had shot this poisoned arrow, she left him standing there and went home, her head in the air, her face red with pride in her own powers of repartee--to learn that Herr Grünlich had been invited to dinner next Sunday.