He did not finish. Tony had sprung up, had even taken a few steps backward, and with the wet handkerchief still in her hand she cried: “Good! Enough! Never!” She looked almost heroic. The words “the firm” had struck home. It is highly probable that they had more effect than even her dislike of Herr Grünlich. “You shall not do that, Papa,” she went on, quite beside herself. “Do you want to be bankrupt too? Never, never!”
At this moment the hall door opened a little uncertainly and Herr Grünlich entered.
Johann Buddenbrook rose, with a movement that meant: “That’s settled.”
CHAPTER VIII
Herr Grünlich’s face was all mottled with red; but he had dressed carefully in a respectable-looking black coat and pea-green trousers like those in which he had made his first visits in Meng Street. He stood still, with his head down, looking very limp, and said in a weak exhausted sort of voice: “Father?”
The Consul bowed, not too cordially, and straightened his neck-cloth with an energetic movement.
“Thank you for coming,” said Herr Grünlich.
“It was my duty, my friend,” replied the Consul. “But I am afraid it will be about all I can do for you.”
Herr Grünlich threw him a quick look and seemed to grow still more limp.
“I hear,” the Consul went on, “that your banker, Herr Kesselmeyer, is awaiting us—where shall the conference be held? I am at your service.”