When Gabriel had shut the door after announcing his uncle's arrival, the
Consul got up and went off to the key-drawer, from whence he took a
gigantic key, to which was attached a wooden label black with age. He
then brushed his coat, and, after adjusting his chin in his neckcloth
and arranging his scanty locks, left the office.
The house was large and old fashioned, with long passages and broad
staircases. In the western wing were the offices, having a separate
entrance on the side towards the sea. On the southern side, and
overlooking the garden, were the bedrooms of the family, and the
apartments which were generally used as sitting-rooms.
The second floor consisted entirely of reception-rooms, which were so
arranged as to have the large ballroom in the middle, with _salons_ at
the side. In one of these rooms the family generally dined on Sunday, or
when they had guests, and it was the small _salon_ at the north-west
corner, looking over the building-yard and the sea, in which the dinner
was usually served.
On the third floor, or, more correctly, in the garrets, was an endless
number of spare rooms, whose windows looked out of the quaint dormers
which embellished the roof.
The furniture was mostly of mahogany, now dark with age, while chairs
and sofas were covered with horsehair. Against the walls stood tall dark
presses, and mirrors with the glass in two pieces, and having their
gilded frames adorned with urns and garlands. The rooms were lit by
old-fashioned chandeliers and girandoles.
The Consul met one of the servants in the passage. "Has Mr. Garman
arrived?"
"Yes, sir; and he has gone upstairs, to my mistress," answered the girl.
When the weather was warm, Mrs. Garman usually preferred one of the airy
rooms upstairs. She was a very fat lady, who lived in a continual state
of strife with dyspepsia. From whatever side you looked at her, she
presented a succession of smoothly rounded curves covered with shining
black silk.
It was wonderful that Mrs. Garman got so stout; it must have been, as
she herself said, "a cross" she had to bear. She seemed to eat very
little at her meals, and could not control her astonishment at the
appetites of the rest of the company. Only at times, when she was alone
in her room, she seemed to have a fancy for some little delicacy, and
Miss Cordsen used to bring her a little bit of just what happened to be
handy.
When the Consul entered her room, his wife was sitting on the sofa,
engaged in conversation with her brother-in-law.
"How are you? how are you, Christian Frederick?" said Richard, gaily.
"Here I am again!"
"You are welcome, Richard. I am charmed to see you," answered the
Consul, keeping his hands behind his back.
Richard seemed quite confused, as he generally was when he met his
brother, who sometimes could be as gay and cheerful as when they were
boys, and at others would put on his business manner, and be cold,
repellant, and so abominably precise.
"Is any one coming to dinner to-day, Caroline?" asked Consul Garman.
"Pastor Martens has announced his kind intention of introducing the new
school inspector to us," answered the lady.
"Yes, I dare say, another of your parson friends," said the Consul,
drily; "then, I'll just send the coachman with the carriage for Morten
and Fanny, and ask them to bring some young people with them: they might
find Jacob Worse, perhaps."
"What for?" answered the lady, in a tone which showed an inclination to
dispute the proposition.
"Because neither Richard nor I care to have our dinner with nothing but
a lot of parsons," answered the Consul, in a tone which brought his wife
to her senses. "And will you be so kind as to arrange with Miss Cordsen
about the dinner?"
"Oh! the dinner, the dinner!" sighed Mrs. Garman, as she left the room.
"I cannot understand how people can think so much about such trifles."
Uncle Richard followed his sister-in-law to the door, and when he turned
round after making his most polite bow, he saw his brother standing in
the middle of the room, with his legs far apart, and one hand behind his
back. With the other he held up the monster key like an eyeglass before
his eye, and through it he regarded his brother with a knowing look.
"Do you know that?" asked the Consul.
"_Mais oui_!" answered Richard, in a tone which showed his delight at
finding his brother in a mood which betokened a visit to the
wine-cellar.
The two old gentlemen went off arm-in-arm, until they reached the top of
the kitchen stairs. At the kitchen door they stopped, and the Consul
called for the lights. A commotion was heard inside, and in a few
seconds Miss Cordsen appeared with two ancient candlesticks.
Each took his own light--they never made any mistake as to which was
which--and descended the stairs which led to the dark cellar. They first
arrived at a large outer cellar, where it was comparatively light, in
which were stored the wines which were in ordinary use, such as St.
Julien, Rhine wine, Graves, and brandy. This was all under the charge of
Miss Cordsen, who, in accordance with the _régime_ which had come down
from the old Consul's time, produced the different wines according to
the number and importance of the guests. In the darkest corner of the
cellar there was an old keyhole, only known to the Consul, but he could
find it in the dark. All the same, both of them held out their lights to
look for it, and the young Consul never omitted to remark upon the
clever way in which his father had concealed the secret door.
The key turned twice in the lock with a rusty sound, which the brothers
could distinguish from any other sound in the world, and an atmosphere
redolent of wine and mould met them as they entered. The Consul shut the
door, and said, "There now, the world will have to get on without us for
a little while." The inner wine-cellar looked as if it were considerably
older than the house itself, and the groined roof had a resemblance to
the cloister of an old monastery. It was so low that Richard had to bend
his head a little, and even the Consul felt inclined to stoop when he
was down there.
In the old bins lay bottles of different shapes covered with dust and
cobwebs, and in the recess of what had been a grated window, but was now
walled up on the outside, there stood two old long-stemmed Dutch
glasses, while in one corner there lay a large wine-cask. In front of
the cask was placed an empty tub, between an armchair without a back,
and from the seat of which the horsehair was protruding, and an ancient
rocking-horse that had lost its rockers.
The brothers put down their lights on the bottom of the tub, and took
off their coats, which they hung each on their own peg.
"Well, what's it to be to-day?" said Christian Frederick, rubbing his
hands.
"Port wouldn't be bad," suggested Richard, examining the bin.
"Port wine would be first-rate," answered the Consul, holding out his
light. "But look, there's a row of bottles lying in here that we have
never tried. I should like to know what they are."
"I dare say it is some of my grandmother's raspberry vinegar," suggested
Richard.
"Nonsense! Do you suppose father would have hidden away raspberry
vinegar in this cellar?"
"Perhaps he was as fond of old things as some other people I know,"
answered Richard.
"You always are so sarcastic," muttered the Consul. "I wish we could get
at these bottles."
"You'll have to creep in after them, Christian Frederick. I am too
stout."
"All right," answered his brother, taking off his watch and heavy bunch
of seals. And the old gentleman crept into the bin with the utmost care.
"Now I've got one," he cried.
"Take two while you are about it."
"Yes; but you will have to take hold of my legs and pull me out."
"_Avec plaisir_!" answered Richard. "But won't you have a drop of
Burgundy before you come out?"
There must have been some joke hidden in the question, for the Consul
began to laugh; but before long he stammered out, "I am choking, Dick;
will you pull me out, you fiend?"
The joke about the Burgundy was as follows. Once when the young Consul
had crept in among the bottles, to look for something very particular,
he managed to knock his head against one which lay in the rack above so
hard that it broke, and the whole bottle of Burgundy ran down his neck.
Every time any allusion was made to this mishap, a meaning smile passed
between the brothers, and Richard was even so careless as sometimes to
allude to it when others were present. For instance, if they were
sitting at dinner, and the conversation turned upon red wines, he would
say, "Well, my brother has his own peculiar way of drinking Burgundy;"
and then would follow a series of mysterious allusions and laughter
between the two, which usually ended in a fit of coughing.
The young people had several times tried to get at this joke about the
Burgundy, but always in vain. Miss Cordsen, who had been obliged that
day to get a clean shirt for the Consul, was the only one in the secret;
but Miss Cordsen could hold her tongue about more serious matters than
that.
At last the Consul came out again, laughing and sputtering, his
waistcoat covered with dust, and his hair full of cobwebs. When they had
had a good laugh over their joke--it was well the walls were so
thick--Richard, on whom the duty always devolved, uncorked the first
bottle with the greatest care and skill.
"H'm! h'm!" said the Consul, "that is a curious bouquet."
"I declare, the wine has gone off," said Richard, spluttering.
"Bah! right you are, Dick," said Christian Frederick, spluttering in his
turn.
Uncle Richard opened the second bottle, put his nose to it, and said
approvingly, "Madeira!" and in a moment the golden wine was sparkling in
the old-fashioned Dutch glasses.
"Ah! that's quite another thing," said the young Consul, taking his
usual place astride of the old rocking-horse.
The rocking-horse was a relic of their childhood. "They used to make
everything more solid in those days," said Christian Frederick; and when
some years previously the horse had been found amongst a lot of rubbish,
the Consul had had it brought down to the cellar. For many a long year
he had sat on this horse, drinking the old wine out of the same old
glasses with his brother, who sat in the rickety armchair, which cracked
under his weight, laughing and telling anecdotes of their boyhood. He
never got such wine anywhere else, and no room ever appeared so
brilliant in his eyes as the low-vaulted cellar with its two smoky
lights.
"I declare, it's a shame," said the young Consul, "that you have never
had your half of that cask of port. However, I will send you some wine
out to Bratvold one of these days, so that you may have some, till we
can get it tapped."
"But you are always sending me wine, Christian Frederick. I am sure I
have had my half, and more too, long ago."
"Nonsense, Dick! I declare, I believe you keep a wine account."
"No, I am sure I don't."
"Well, if you don't, I do; and I dare say you've remarked that in your
account for last year--"
"Yes; that's enough of that. Here's to your health, Christian
Frederick," broke in Uncle Richard, hastily. He was always nervous when
his brother began about business.
"That's a great big cask."
"Yes, it is a very big one."
And the two old gentlemen held out their lights towards it, and each of
them thought, "I am glad my brother does not know that the cask is
nearly empty;" for it returned a most unpromising sound when it was
struck, and the patch of moisture beneath it showed that it had
evidently been leaking for many years.
At the end of the bottle, they got up and clinked their glasses
together. They then took each his bottle of Burgundy for dinner, hung
their coats on their arms, and went up into the daylight. It was
strictly forbidden for any one to meet them when they came out of the
cellar, and Miss Cordsen had trouble enough to keep the way clear. They
presented a most extraordinary spectacle, especially the precise
Christian Frederick, coming up red and beaming, in their shirtsleeves,
covered with dust, and each carrying his bottle and his light.
An hour later they met at the dinner-table--Richard, trim and smart as
usual, with his conventional diplomatic smile; the Consul precise,
haughty, and correct to the very tips of his fingers.