BUDDENBROOKS
banker, and there was a pause while he presumably helped himself. Then he said: “In short, will you or won’t you: one or the other?”
“Kesselmeyer, give me an extension.”
“Ah, ha! No, no, my friend. There is no question of an extension. That’s not the point now.”
“Why not? What is stirring you up to this? Be reasonable, for heaven’s sake. You’ve waited this long.”
“Not a day longer, my friend. Yes, we’ll say eight days, but not an hour longer. But can’t we rely any longer on—?”
“No names, Kesselmeyer.”
“No names. Good. But doesn’t some one rely any longer on his estimable Herr Pa—”
“No hints, either. My God, don’t be a fool.”
“Very good; no hints, either. But have we no claim any longer on the well-known firm with whom our credit stands and falls, my friend? How much did it lose by the Bremen failure? Fifty thousand? Seventy thousand? A hundred thousand? More? The sparrows on the housetops know that it was involved, heavily involved. Yesterday—well, no names. Yesterday the well-known firm was good, and it was unconsciously protecting you against pressure. To-day its stock is flat—and B. Grünlich’s stock is the flattest of the flat. Is that clear? Do you grasp it? You are the first man to notice a thing like that. How are people treating you? How do they look at you? Beck and Goudstikker are perfectly agreeable, give you the same terms as usual? And the bank?”
“They will extend.”
“You aren’t lying, are you? Oh, no! I know they gave you a jolt yesterday—a very, very stimulating jolt, eh? You see? Oh, don’t be embarrassed. It is to your interest, of course, to pull the wool over my eyes, so that the others will be quiet. Hey, my dear friend? Well, you’d better write to the Consul. I’ll wait a week.”
“A part payment, Kesselmeyer!”
