Father Pomuchelskopp had now--so to speak--sacrificed his first-born on the altar of fraternity, but without much effect, the two parties did not amalgamate well. Uncle Bräsig did his best to bring people together, he rushed about in his brown coat, here, there and everywhere, for he was determined that brotherly kindness should prevail. He introduced Mr. von so and so to Mrs. Thiel, the cabinet-maker's wife; he forced himself to walk up and down the dancing-room arm in arm with his greatest enemy in the Reform-club, Wimmersdorf, the tailor, and in the presence of the whole company he gave the red-faced wife of John "For my part" a brotherly kiss on the cheek; but it was all of no use; what influence has one man on a number. "Mr. Schulz," he said at last, quite worn out with his labours, "if the supper doesn't bring them nearer each other, I don't know what to do, for the dancing seems to separate them more and more."
But the supper also failed to arouse a feeling of fraternity in the company. The gentlemen and ladies sat at one end of the table, and the tradespeople at the other. Champagne was drunk at the higher end of the table, and at the other end there was a horrible concoction which Grammelin had the impudence to call good red wine, and to sell at a shilling a bottle.--It is true that the shoemaker sat next Mally and her father, and that Pomuchelskopp took care to keep his glass continually full; it is true that the dyer, John "For my part" and his wife placed themselves between two country gentlemen, and that when they wanted to pay for what they had ordered, John put his hand in his pocket and drew out a handful of dyer's tickets instead of the paper money with which he thought he had filled it.--Bräsig seated himself between two pretty little girls, tradesmen's daughters, and treated them with paternal kindness, feeling all the time that Mrs. Nüssler would be angry with him for at least a week, for having gone to the ball instead of remaining with her at Rexow, and that parson Godfrey would lecture him about worldliness. It was of no use his having come, he felt that bitterly. Grammelin's sour red wine looked badly beside the champagne, and the higher and lower classes were even more separate at supper than in the ball-room.--"Mr. Schulz," said Bräsig to his old friend, who was sitting opposite him, "now's the time to play our last trump, do you speak to Mr. Süssmann, and I'll tell Mr. Berger."--So Mr. Schulz asked Mr. Süssmann whether he had the song-books ready.--"Yes," was the answer.--"Very well, deal them out, now's the time."--While Mr. Süssmann distributed the books, Bräsig went to David Berger, and asked: "Do you know that song of Schiller's, Mr. Berger: 'Sister with the linen kirtle. Brother with the order grand'?"--"Most certainly," replied David.--"Strike up then, the sooner the better."--And suddenly: "Happiness, that spark divine", resounded through the room, but with every line the voices grew fewer and fewer, so that at last my dear old uncle Bräsig was the only one who still held up his book and sang, the tears rolling down his cheeks the while; but when he reached the line in which liars were denounced, he could go on no longer.--"Liars?"--Ah they were all liars, false to their convictions.--Everyone rose from table feeling rather uncomfortable, and Bräsig crept away into a corner to hide his vexation. The young people began to dance again, and David and Slus'uhr retired to an anteroom where they drank champagne and laughed at uncle Bräsig.