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.”
“If you will be so good as to follow me,” Herr Grünlich murmured. Consul Buddenbrook kissed his daughter on the forehead and said, “Go up to your child, Antonie.”
Then he went, with Herr Grünlich fluttering in front of and behind him to open the portières, through the dining-room into the living-room.
Herr Kesselmeyer stood at the window, the black and white down softly rising and falling upon his cranium.
“Herr Kesselmeyer, Herr Consul Buddenbrook, my father-in-law,” said Herr Griinlich, meekly. The Consul’s face was impassive. Herr Kesselmeyer bowed with his arms hanging down, both yellow teeth against his upper lip, and said “Pleasure to meet you, Herr Consul.”
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