BUDDENBROOKS
in the shallow pools, floating little ships. To the right, the wooden bathing-pavilion ran out into the water.
“We are going straight across to Möllendorpf’s pier,” said Tony. “Let’s turn off.”
“Certainly; but don’t you want to meet your friends? I can sit down yonder on those boulders.”
“Well, I suppose I ought to just greet them. But I don’t want to, you know. I came here to be in peace and quiet.”
“Peace? From what?”
“Why—from—from—”
“Listen, Fräulein Buddenbrook. I must ask you something. No, I’ll wait till another day—till we have more time. Now I will say au revoir and go and sit down there on the rocks.”
“Don’t you want me to introduce you, then?” Tony asked, importantly.
“Oh, no,” Morten said, hastily. “Thanks, but I don’t fit very well with those people, you see. I’ll just sit down over there on the rocks.”
It was a rather large company which Tony was approaching while Morten Schwarzkopf betook himself to the great heap of boulders on the right, near to the bathing-house and washed by the waves. The party was encamped before the Möllendorpfs’ pier, and was composed of the Möllendorpf, Hagenström, Kistenmaker, and Fritsche families. Except for Herr Fritsche, the owner, from Hamburg, and Peter Döhlmann, the idler, the group consisted of women, for it was a week-day, and most of the men were in their offices. Consul Fritsche, an elderly, smooth-shaven gentleman with a distinguished face, was up on the open pier, busy with a telescope, which he trained upon a sailboat visible in the distance. Peter Döhlmann, with a broad-brimmed straw hat and a beard with a nautical cut, stood chatting with the ladies perched on camp-stools or stretched out on rugs on the sand. There were Frau Senator Möllendorpf, born Langhals, with her longhandled lorgnon and untidy grey hair; Frau Hagenström, with Julchen, who had not grown much, but already wore
