Chapter 4 room thirty four

The gate room sits exactly between the sanitarium gate and the damper.A French waiter—in the same gray uniform as the crippled man with the luggage at the station—had been sitting by the telephone, reading a newspaper, who came up to them and accompanied them through the brightly lit The hall, the left side of the hall is the reception room.Hans Castorp looked into the drawing-room as he passed, and saw that it was deserted.He asked where the guests were, and the cousin said: "They're in bed. I'm taking leave today because I'm going to meet you. Otherwise I'll be lying on the balcony after dinner."

Hans Castorp could not help laughing again. "What, you're still lying on the balcony in the moist fog at night?" he asked in a trembling voice. "Yes, this is the system. Lie down from eight to ten. But now go to your room and wash your hands." They boarded an elevator run by a Frenchman.Hans Castorp wiped away his tears as he boarded the elevator. "My bones are cracked from laughing, and my strength is gone," he said, panting through his mouth. "You've told me so many silly things. . . Psychoanalysis has made such an impression on me that it's hard to imagine. Besides, I've recovered a little from the fatigue of the journey. Your feet are still cold." At the same time, the face is hot, which is not very comfortable. Can we eat soon? I seem to be a little hungry. Is the food here on the mountain not bad?"

They walked silently on the blankets woven from coconut husks in the narrow corridor.The milky white glass lampshade mounted on the ceiling cast a pale light.There was a coat of paint on the walls, and there was a faint white gleam.Out of nowhere a nurse appeared, wearing a white hood, a pair of pince-nez on her nose and a strap trailing behind her ears.She looked like a Protestant, who seemed less than devoted to her profession.She seemed curious, lazy and procrastinating.On the floor of the doorways of two places in the corridor (the doors had numbers marked in white paint) there were large, round, short-necked bulbs of some sort, what they were, Hans Castorp had forgotten at the time. asked him.

"That's where you live," said Joachim, "number thirty-four. I live in the room to the right of you. To the left is a Russian couple who, I must say, are chattering and slovenly, But there's nothing you can do about it. Well, what do you think?" There are two doors, one opens inside, and a clothes hanger is placed between the two doors.Joachim lit the wall lamp on the ceiling, and the room suddenly looked bright and lively under the flickering light.The usual white furniture is placed in the room, and the wallpaper is also white, solid and washable.The floor was clean linoleum, and the linen curtains were richly embroidered in a fashion.The floor-to-ceiling windows are open, and the lights in the valley can be seen, and the sound of dancing music can be faintly heard in the distance.The kind Joachim put some flowers in a small vase on the chest of drawers - some yarrow and bluebells among them - which he had picked himself in the grass on the hillside. "You are very thoughtful," said Hans Castorp. "How elegant is this room! You could live in it comfortably for a fortnight."

"An American woman died in this room the day before yesterday," said Joachim. "According to Behrens's opinion, just ask her out before you come, so that you can take this room. Her fiancé is with her, and he is an English naval officer, but he is not very disciplined. He always comes out. Crying in the hallway, exactly like a lad. Then he put cold cream on his cheeks, because he was clean shaved, and the tears ruined his face. The American woman threw up blood twice the night before, and died. .But they just got her out yesterday morning, so of course they fumigated the room thoroughly with formalin, which, you know, is supposed to be pretty good at killing germs."

Hans Castorp listened to these words absent-mindedly, and his heart was shaken.He rolled up his sleeves and stood in front of a large washbasin whose nickel switches gleamed in the electric light.He hardly glanced at the tin bed with the clean sheet. "Fumigation, that's a big deal," he kept saying with a little sarcasm, washing and letting the water drain from his hands. "Well, with formaldehyde, the worst bacteria can't stand it. With formalin, it's a bit irritating to the nose, isn't it? Of course, perfect sanitation is an essential condition..." He When he said the word "dang-ran", the syllables were not coherent, and he still had a strong hometown accent, while his cousin had developed the habit of speaking without his hometown accent since he was a student.Hans Castorp went on eloquently: "The other thing I want to say is... Let me speculate that the naval officer may have used a safety razor, and with this safety razor is better than a sharpened blade. Scratches more easily, that's at least my experience, I use them in rotation... Hi, salt water naturally tends to irritate irritated skin, no wonder he often has to use cold cream, it seems to me No wonder..." He went on babbling, saying that he had two hundred Maria Mancini cigarettes in his suitcase, that the customs inspection had been very polite, and that many members of the family had greeted his cousin. "Is there heating here?" he asked suddenly, raising his voice, and ran forward to put his hand on the radiator... "No. They told us to cool off," Joachim replied. "It's going to be different when the heat comes out in August."

"August, August!" Hans Castorp continued. "But I'm cold! I'm terribly cold, and I mean my body, for my face is hot—you feel it, it's like fire!" This demand for groping was completely out of character for Hans Castorp, and he himself was ashamed.Joachim ignored this, but said: "It's about the air, it's nothing. Behrens' face is also red and purple all day long. Many people are not used to it. Well, let's move forward, otherwise we won't be able to eat anything." Outside, the figure of the nurse appeared again, and she looked at them curiously with a pair of short-sighted eyes.But on the first floor Hans Castorp stopped suddenly when he heard, not far behind the corner of the corridor, a very frightening sound, quiet but eerie.Hans Castorp could not help but suddenly changed color, and stared at his cousin with round eyes.The cough was obviously a man's, but unlike other coughs Hans Castorp had never heard such a cough.Compared with the other coughs he had heard, they sounded healthy and full of life.It was a moribund cough, not paroxysmal, but a weak and repulsive rise of a viscous substance like some organic solution, making a gurgling sound.

"Well," said Joachim, "this man has a very ugly face. You know, he is an Austrian nobleman, a nobleman. He was born to be a horseman, and now he has ended up in this state. But he is still Can move around." Hans Castorp was still talking eagerly about the rider's cough as they walked on. "You have to remember," he said, "that I have never heard a cough of this kind. It was completely foreign to me, and it certainly made a deep impression on me. There are many kinds of coughs, dry ones. Yes, there are wet and phlegmy ones. Generally speaking, the wet ones are better than the dry cough like a dog howling just now. When I was young (he actually said "I was young") I had asthma. I coughed like a wolf howling. When it got a little wetter later, everyone laughed, I still remember that. But I've never heard a cough like this, at least I haven't - it's just not human Cough. It's not dry, but it can't be called wet either. It's far from wet. Hearing the cough, it seems that I want to see for myself what this person is like-it seems to be all Viscous phlegm..."

"Come on," said Joachim, "I hear it every day, and you don't have to describe it to me." But Hans Castorp was still troubled by the cough he had just heard; he insisted that he would like to see the rider for himself.His eyes, weary from the journey, shone with excitement as they entered the dining room.