BUDDENBROOKS
went to dances at the Möllendorpfs’, Kistenmakers’, and Langhals’, and in her own home; she skated on the Burgfield and the meadows of the Trave, and permitted the attentions of the young gentlemen of the town. In the middle of October she went to the betrothal feast at the Möllendorpfs’ for the oldest son of the house and Juliet Hagenström. “Tom,” she said, “I won’t go. It is disgusting.” But she went, and enjoyed herself hugely. And, as for the rest, by the entry with the pen in the family history-book, she had won the privilege of going, with the Frau Consul or alone, into all the shops in town and making purchases in a grand style for her trousseau. It was to be a brilliant trousseau. Two seamstresses sat all day in the breakfast-room window, sewing, embroidering monograms, and eating quantities of house-bread and green cheese.
“Is the linen come from Lentföhr, Mamma?”
“No, but here are two dozen tea-serviettes.”
“That is nice. But he promised it by this afternoon. My goodness, the sheets still have to be hemmed.”
“Mamsell Bitterlich wants to know about the lace for the pillow-cases, Ida.”
“It is in the righthand cupboard in the entry, Tony, my child.”
“Line—!”
“You could go yourself, my dear.”
“Oh, if I’m marrying for the privilege of running up and down stairs—!”
“Have you made up your mind yet about the material for the wedding-dress, Tony?”
“Moiré antique, Mamma—I won’t marry, without moiré antique!”
So passed October and November. At Christmas time Herr Grünlich appeared, to spend Christmas in the Buddenbrook family circle and also to take part in the celebration at the Krögers’. His conduct toward his bride showed all the delicacy one would have expected from him. No unnecessary
