“Here, my good man,” says the Frau Consul. “And I hope you love our blessed Lord?” “I be lovin’ him from my hairt, Frau Consul, thet’s the holy truth!” And Grobleben gets another thaler from her, and a third from Frau Permaneder, and retires with a bow and a scrape, taking the roses with him by mistake, except for those already fallen on the carpet. The Burgomaster takes his leave now, and the Consul accompanies him down to his carriage. This is the signal for the party to break up--for Gerda Buddenbrook must rest. The old Frau Consul, Tony, Erica, and Mamsell Jungmann are the last to go. “Well, Ida,” says the Consul, “I have been thinking it over: you took care of us all, and when little Johann gets a bit older-- He still has the monthly nurse now, and after that he will still need a day-nurse, I suppose--but will you be willing to move over to us when the time comes?” “Yes, indeed, Herr Consul, if your wife is satisfied.” Gerda is content to have it so, and thus it is settled. In the act of leaving, however, and already at the door, Frau Permaneder turns. She comes back to her brother and kisses him on both cheeks, and says: “It has been a lovely day, Tom. I am happier than I have been for years. We Buddenbrooks aren’t quite at the last gasp yet, thank God, and whoever thinks we are is mightily mistaken. Now that we have little Johann--it is so beautiful that he is christened Johann--it looks to me as if quite a new day will dawn for us all!” CHAPTER II Christian Buddenbrook, proprietor of the firm of H. C. F. Purmeister and Company of Hamburg, came into his brother’s living-room, holding in his hand his modish grey hat and his walking-stick with the nun’s bust. Tom and Gerda sat reading together. It was half-past nine on the evening of the christening day. “Good evening,” said Christian. “Oh, Thomas, I must speak with you at once.--Please excuse me, Gerda.--It is urgent, Thomas.” They went into the dark dining-room, where the Consul lighted a gas-jet on the wall, and looked at his brother. He expected nothing good. Except for the first greeting, he had had no opportunity to speak with Christian, but he had looked at him, during the service, and noted that he seemed unusually serious, and even more restless than common: in the course of Pastor Pringsheim’s discourse he had left the room for several minutes. Thomas had not written him since the day in Hamburg when he had paid over into his brother’s hands an advance of 10,000 marks current on his inheritance, to settle his indebtedness. “Just go on as you are going,” he had said, “and you’ll soon run through all your money. As far as I am concerned, I hope you will cross my path very little in future. You have put my friendship to too hard a test in these three years.” Why was he here now? Something must be driving him. “Well?” asked the Consul.