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Page 35
"Where did you get those splendid lobsters, mother?" asked Morten, who
had suddenly turned up, no one knew from whence. He never missed his
meals.
"Uncle Richard brought them," answered Mrs. Garman. "I think he has a
fisherman at Bratvold, who always brings him the finest lobsters that
are to be got." She had taken care to help herself to some of the coral,
which looked most appetizing in its contrast to the white meat.
Madeleine got almost as red as the lobster, and bent down over her
teacup. Per, and everything connected with her old home, now seemed so
distant, that when she thought upon her original intention of making an
open confession, the idea seemed mere folly. She was indeed thankful
that none of those around her guessed how near she had been to such an
absurd engagement.
The two brothers, when they were going to bed that evening, had a chat
over the events of the day. Richard's room opened into the Consul's, and
notwithstanding that his habit of smoking cigarettes was an abomination
to his brother, the door between the rooms always remained open at
night. Each had his own particular method of undressing. The Consul took
off each garment in due order, folded it up, and laid it in its
appointed place. Richard, on the other hand, tore off his things and
threw them about anyhow. He then wrapped himself in his dressing-gown,
and sat down and smoked till his brother was ready.
"He is the very devil, that Worse!" said the _attach�_, leaning back in
the armchair; "but it does me good to hear any one speak out his mind so
plainly."
"He is too violent; he forgets conventionalities."
"It is possible to have too much conventionality. It is well for young
people to air their views; it does them good."
"What nonsense you are talking, Dick!" cried the Consul, entering his
brother's room. "What the deuce would become of the world if youngsters
were allowed to jabber like that on every possible occasion?"
But Uncle Richard was not nervous when they were _t�te-�-t�te_. He got
slowly up from his chair, and let his dressing-gown slip off his
shoulders; and the two brothers now stood opposite each other, in very
different _d�shabille_. The young Consul was in his night-shirt, and a
pair of flannel drawers tied at the knees with broad tape. His thin legs
were thrust into long grey stockings, which Miss Cordsen alone knew how
to knit. Richard had a pair of Turkish slippers, thread stockings, which
fitted closely to his well-formed leg, and a shirt of fine material
stiffly starched, in which he always slept. There were none of his
brother's failings which the Consul disliked more than this.
"I tell you what, Christian Frederick," said Uncle Richard, as he laid
his hand on his brother's shoulder, "I don't say that young people will
do the world a great deal of good by making a noise, but I am quite
certain that none of us have done it much good by holding our tongue."
"What do you mean? Nonsense, Richard!" said the Consul, contemptuously,
as he turned back into his room.
They both got into bed and put out their lights.
"Good night, Christian Frederick."
"Good night," answered the Consul, rather drily; but just as Uncle
Richard was on the point of falling asleep, he heard his brother say--
"Dick, Dick! are you asleep?"
"No, not quite," answered the other, sitting up in bed.
"Well, then, perhaps there was something in what you said just now. Good
night."
"Good night," said the _attach�_, lying down with a smile on his face. A
few minutes after the two old gentlemen were snoring peacefully in
unison.
CHAPTER IX.
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