Chapter 15 Mr Albin

In the garden below, the strangely shaped flag with two snakes and two wings fluttered in the wind from time to time as a symbol of the hospital.The sky was evenly covered with clouds again, the sun disappeared, and the weather immediately cooled down unceremoniously.The common room seemed to be full of people, chattering and laughing. "Mr. Albin, I beg you, put away your knife and put it in your pocket, something will happen!" said a woman sharply, in a wavering tone. "Dear Mr. Albin, for God's sake, calm our nerves, and don't let us see this terrible murder weapon again!" Another voice broke in.At this time, a blond young man sitting on the side of the front row of reclining chairs with a cigarette in his mouth replied in a rough voice:

"Don't think about it! Ladies should allow me to play with my little knife! Hey hey, it's really sharp, I got it from a blind magician in Calcutta...he could swallow The knife, and then his henchmen dug it out of the ground fifty paces away... Would you like to see it? It's much faster than a razor. You just touch the edge and it'll pierce through your The skin is like cutting butter. You wait, I want to show you carefully..." At this point, Mr. Albin stood up.Everyone screamed. "Pooh, I'm off to get a revolver!" said Mr. Albin. "I feel stronger with this one. It's the damn thing. It's very penetrating...I'll go up to the room and get it."

"Mr. Albin, Mr. Albin, don't do that!" many voices yelled.But Herr Albin had left the lounge and gone upstairs to his room.He was a young, tall, thin fellow with the rosy complexion of a child, and whiskers that grew to his ears. "Mr. Albin," a woman called to him inside, "bring you your overcoat and put it on for my sake! You've been lying down with pneumonia for six weeks." , and now you're sitting here without a coat, without warm clothes, and even smoking a cigarette! I swear it's called challenging God!" Albin walked away, smiling contemptuously; in a moment he returned, revolver in hand.They yelled even more stupidly than before.Some people could be heard trying to jump out of the couch and escape wrapped in blankets.

"Look, it's a small, bright gun," said Mr. Albin, "but if I press it here, it'll kill you..." Then there was another groan. "Of course, it contained bullets," continued Mr. Albin. "There are six rounds in this barrel, and every time it's fired, it goes forward one notch ... I'm not kidding," he said.Then he saw that people were less tense and he put the pistol in his pocket and sat down again with one thigh on top of the other and lit another cigarette. "I'm not joking," he said again, and his lips tightened. "Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" Many trembling voices asked him in unison, their tones full of ominous foreboding. "How terrible!" suddenly someone called out, and Herr Albin nodded.

"I see you're beginning to get my point," he said. "Actually, that's what I hid the gun for," he continued casually, taking a drag on his cigarette and puffing it out again despite his recent recovery from pneumonia. "I'm hiding it for the honor of killing myself in one shot, should the boredom ever last me any longer. It couldn't have been easier. I've done my research, and I know How to finish it neatly. (When he said the word "done", there was a "ah".) The heart is not my goal... It is not convenient for me to choose this place... I like it I fell unconscious on the spot, that is, as long as I press this little gadget brought from a foreign country on this interesting part..." Mr. Albin pointed at his short-cut blond hair with his index finger overhead. "You've got to put the gun here," said Mr. Albin, drawing his nickel-plated revolver from his pocket again, and tapped the muzzle on his temple. "Just above the arteries here...Even without a mirror, it's easy to do..."

At this time, there were many pleading protests, and some even broke down in tears. "Mr. Albin, Mr. Albin, put away your pistol, don't press it to your temple. It's frightening to see! Mr. Albin, you're still young, you'll get better, you'll soon be able to Live a normal life, you will enjoy the love and respect that everyone has for you! Put on your coat, lie down, dress warmly, and continue with the treatment! Next time the master in the bathroom rubs your body with alcohol, don't put it on He's gone! Don't smoke any more, Monsieur Albin, we beg you to save your life, your young and precious life!"

But Mr. Albin was very stubborn. "No, no," he said, "leave me alone, I'm fine, thank you. I never refuse a lady's request, but you can see that it's no use rebelling against fate. I've lived here It's the third year... I'm so sick of it, I can't go on like this. Can you blame me for that? Ladies, I'm sick. You see me sitting here, I'm The disease is incurable, and even the consultants don't care about your face, and they hardly hide this fact. Please give me a little freedom to find a way out of this fact! It's like in high school , the higher-ups decided you to repeat the grade, so you have to stay honestly, no one will come to ask, and you don't have to do anything. Now I have finally progressed to this pleasant situation. I don't have to do anything, I have nothing Take it to heart, I'll laugh it all off. Do you want some chocolate? Please use it! Hey, you don't have to fight, I have a mountain of chocolates in my room. I have eight boxes of chocolates upstairs, five 'Galapeter ' and four pounds of 'Lindt' chocolate. These were given to me by the wives in the sanitarium after I had pneumonia..."

A man's deep voice came from nowhere, ordering everyone to be quiet.Herr Albin smiled dryly, forcedly and incoherently.Then there was silence in the lounge again, as quiet as a dream or a ghost floating by.After that, people's voices echoed strangely in the silent air.Hans Castorp listened until silence fell.Although he wasn't sure whether Mr. Albin was a playboy, he couldn't help feeling a little envious of him.The metaphor of school life impressed him particularly deeply. He was in the sixth grade of middle school at that time in the nine-year system of German middle school, and the sixth grade of middle school was roughly equivalent to the third grade of junior high school in the old school system before liberation.I stayed a grade.He recalled the humiliation of being taunted at the time, but there was something comical and gratifying in it—in the fourth quarter, he gave up running and sneered at "everything"; .Because of the confusion of his thoughts, it was difficult for him to say exactly what was going on.In short, in his view, although honor can bring many benefits to people, there are also many benefits from humiliation, and its benefits are endless.He put himself in Mr. Albin's shoes, and his imagination pictured how a man would feel when at last he was freed from the burden of honour, and enjoyed forever the endless pleasures of humiliation.Thinking of this, a sweet feeling hit the young man's heart, he felt a shiver, and his heart beat faster and faster.