In the spring of 1868, one evening towards ten o’clock, Frau Permaneder entered the first story of her brother’s house. Senator Buddenbrook sat alone in the living-room, which was done in olive-green rep, with a large round centre-table and a great gas-lamp hanging down over it from the ceiling. He had the _Berlin Financial Gazette_ spread out in front of him on the table, and was reading it, with a cigarette held between the first and second fingers of his left hand, and a gold pince-nez on his nose--he had now for some time been obliged to use glasses for reading. He heard his sister’s footsteps as she passed through the dining-room, took off his glasses, and peered into the darkness until Tony appeared between the portières and in the circle of light from the lamp. “Oh, it is you? How are you? Back from Pöppenrade? How are your friends?” “Evening, Tom. Thanks, Armgard is very well. Are you here alone?” “Yes; I’m glad you have come. I ate my dinner all alone to-night like the Pope. I don’t count Mamsell Jungmann, because she is always popping up to look after Hanno. Gerda is at the Casino. Christian fetched her, to hear Tamayo play the violin.” “Bless and save us--as Mother says.--Yes, I’ve noticed lately that Gerda and Christian get on quite well together.” “Yes, I have too. Since he came back for good, she seems to have taken to him. She sits and listens to him when he tells about his troubles--dear me, I suppose he entertains her. She said to me lately: ‘There is nothing of the burgher about Christian, Thomas--he is even less of a burgher than you are, yourself!’” “Burgher, Tom? What did she mean? Why, it seems to me there is no better burgher on top of the earth than you are!” “Oh, well--she didn’t mean it just in that sense. Take off your things and sit down a while, my child. How splendid you look! The country air did you good.” “I’m in very good form,” she said, as she took off her mantle and the hood with lilac silk ribbons and sat down with dignity in an easy-chair by the table. “My sleep and my digestion both improved very much in this short time. The fresh milk, and the farm sausages and hams--one thrives like the cattle and the crops. And the honey, Tom, I have always considered honey one of the very best of foods. A pure nature product--one knows just what one’s eating. Yes, it was really very sweet of Armgard to remember an old boarding-school friendship and send me the invitation. Herr von Maiboom was very polite, too. They urged me to stay a couple of weeks longer, but I know Erica is rather helpless without me, especially now, with little Elisabeth--” “How is the child?” “Doing nicely, Tom. She is really not bad at all, for four months, even if Henriette and Friederike and Pfiffi did say she wouldn’t live.” “And Weinschenk? How does he like being a father? I never see him except on Thursdays--”