“You fool, you!” “Don’t say that, Thomas. You should be just, even if you are angry, to her and to--why shouldn’t it be my child? And as for Aline, she isn’t in the least worthless, and you ought not to say she is. She is not at all promiscuous; she broke with Consul Holm on my account, and he has much more money than I have. That’s how decent she is. No, Thomas, you simply can’t understand what a splendid creature she is--and _healthy_--she is as _healthy_--!” He repeated the word, and held up one hand before his face with the fingers crooked, in the same gesture as when he used to tell about “Maria” and the depravity of London. “You should see her teeth when she laughs. I’ve never found any other teeth to compare with them, not in Valparaiso, or London, or anywhere else in the world. I’ll never forget the evening I first met her, in the oyster-room, at Uhlich’s. She was living with Consul Holm then. Well, I told her a story or so, and was a bit friendly; and when I went home with her afterwards--well, Thomas, that’s a different sort of feeling from the one you have when you do a good stroke of business! But you don’t like to hear about such things--I can see that already--and anyhow, it’s over with. I’m saying good-bye to her, though I shall keep in touch with her on account of the child. I’ll pay up everything I owe in Hamburg, and shut up shop. I can’t go on. I’ve talked with Mother, and she is willing to give me the five thousand thaler to start with, so I can put things in order; and I hope you will agree to it, for it is much better to say quite simply that Christian Buddenbrook is winding up his business and going abroad, than for me to make a failure. You think so too, don’t you? I intend to go to London again, Thomas, and take a position. It isn’t good for me to be independent--I can see that more and more. The responsibility--whereas in a situation one just goes home quite care-free, at the end of the day. And I liked living in London. Do you object?” During this exposition, the Consul had turned his back on his brother, and stood with his hands in his pockets, describing figures on the floor with his foot. “Very good, go to London,” he said, shortly, and without turning more than half-way toward his brother, he passed into the living-room. But Christian followed him. He went up to Gerda, who sat there alone, reading, and put out his hand. “Good night, Gerda. Well, Gerda, I’m off for London. Yes, it’s remarkable how one gets tossed about hither and yon. Now it’s again into the unknown, into a great city, you know, where one meets an adventure at every third step, and sees so much of life. Strange--do you know the feeling? One gets it here--sort of in the pit of the stomach--it’s very odd.” CHAPTER III