Chapter 21 Hippe

That's how Sunday was spent.A feature of the afternoons' passing was the car excursions in which the patients were divided into groups.Sometimes after refreshment, several two-horse carriages slowly climbed the winding mountain road and stopped in front of the gate of the sanatorium to carry the pre-booked guests—mainly Russians, and most of them were Russian women. "The Russians love to go for a drive," Joachim told Hans Castorp.At this time, they stood together at the gate, watched them go, and chatted to entertain themselves. "This time they're going to Clavadell or the lake, or to the Fruel Valley, maybe all the way to Kloster. That's always the destination. We'll go too while you're here." Take a look around, if you're interested. But at the moment I think you've got a little more acclimatization to do, and you don't need much activity."

Hans Castorp agreed.He had a cigarette in his mouth and his hands in his trouser pockets.He watched helplessly as the little, vivacious Russian woman sat down in the carriage with her skinny grandniece and two other women.These two women are Marusa and Mrs. Chauchat.They all wore thin dust smocks with a belt around the back, but no hats.She sat beside the old woman in the back seat of the carriage, while the two girls sat in the back seat.All four were in high spirits, talking non-stop with their soft tongues that seemed to be boneless.They talked and laughed about the carriage roofs, how uncomfortable it was for them to be huddled together under them, and about the Russian sweets that their aunt brought them to feast on, in a In a small wooden box, stuffed with cotton wool and lace paper, these sweets are being distributed to everyone now...

Hans Castorp noticed with interest that Frau Chauchat's voice was somewhat hoarse.As usual, when this sleazy woman appeared before him, he was convinced once again that she was a resemblance to the image he had once dimly pursued, and later reappeared in the dream... But Marusa's smile and the expression of her round brown eyes, her childish look with her little handkerchief over her mouth, her breasts that were really sick and protruding inside--this was all. Everything reminded him of something else, of some terrible sight he had just seen, and he looked at Joachim cautiously without moving his head.Thankfully, Joachim's face is not as freckled as it used to be, and his lips are not pursed in anger.He just stared at Marussa. Although his posture and eyes could not but be said to have a military look, the bewildered, depressed and single-minded expression between his brows made it undeniable that he was a civilian.But in a moment he regained his strength, and cast a quick glance at Hans Castorp, just in time for Hans to avert his eyes and look up somewhere in the sky.He felt his heart beating again now -- inexplicably, involuntarily, as it had been on the mountain.

Nothing else stood out for the rest of Sunday, except, perhaps, the food, which was nowhere near as rich as usual, and at least the food seemed more refined.Lunch was chicken aspic, crayfish and pitted cherries in a bowl, pastries after cold drinks in baskets woven of marshmallows, and fresh jackfruit.In the evening, after drinking beer, Hans Castorp felt more tired than the previous few days, and his limbs became colder and heavier. Within a few minutes, he said good night to his cousin and hurried to bed , covered his chin with the eiderdown quilt, and fell asleep as if he had been stunned.

But the next day, another Monday after the visitor had gone up to the mountain, the weekly routine repeated itself: that is to say, every other week Dr. People give a report, and anyone who understands German and is not a "dying" patient is the object of listening.Hans Castorp learned from his cousin that the content of the report was a series of interrelated lessons, a kind of popular science course, with the general title "Love is a deadly force."This illuminating lecture took place after the second breakfast, and as Joachim had repeatedly said, its absence would not be tolerated, at least by causing great displeasure to the hospital.At the same time, Settambrini was considered audacious, and though he knew the German better than anyone else, he not only never attended the lectures, but even sneered at such lectures.As for Hans Castorp's reasons for attending the lecture, it was chiefly out of politeness, and secondly his undisguised curiosity about the content, which made him eager to listen.Before the lecture, however, he did an inhumanly surly thing: he took a long walk involuntarily, which put him in a bad mood beyond all expectation.

"Listen!" was what Joachim began when he came into his room that morning. "I know now that I can't bear it any longer. Lying sideways--I've had enough of this way of life, which makes one's blood seem lethargic. It's different to you, of course. , you are a patient, I do not want to lead you on a crooked road at all. If you have no objection to me, I really want to go for a walk outside every now and then as soon as I have breakfast, just for a while, just for an hour or two. I am going to Put something in the bag for breakfast, and I'll be free. Let's see if I come back from my walk all different."

"Excellent!" said Joachim, for he saw that the other party was sincere and confident. "But I advise you not to go too far. After all, here is different from home. After taking a walk, you have to come back on time to listen to the report!" In fact, young Hans Castorp had other reasons besides physical ones for this attempt.His hot head, the constant bitter taste in his mouth, his heart beating wildly--all these made him uncomfortable, but what made it more difficult for him to adapt to the environment here was the fact that, for example, the couple in the next room The behavior of the Russian couple, the chattering of the sick and stupid Mrs. Stahl at the dinner table, the feeble coughing of the horseman gentleman heard every day in the corridor, the remarks of Mr. Albin, the social customs of the young and sick around The impressions made in him, the expression on Joachim's face as he gazed at Marusha, and other such feelings.He thought to himself that it would be beneficial to get out of the sanitarium for a while, take a deep breath of the wild air, and do some exercise, so that when he felt tired at night, he would know why.And so he parted with Joachim ambitiously, and Joachim, after breakfast, would take a proper walk to the place where the benches were placed by the brook, as usual.So he leaned on a cane and walked down the mountain along the road swaggeringly. v It was a cold and overcast morning, and it was not yet half-past eight.Hans Castorp took a deep breath of the pure morning air as planned.The air in the field is very fresh, and it is very comfortable to breathe. There is no moisture and impurities in it, which makes people feel refreshed.He crossed the small lake, passed the narrow path, and came to the street with scattered buildings; after a while, he left again and came to a lawn, only a small part of the lawn was on the ground, and the rest of the lawn stretched upwards from the right side , the slope is very steep.The ascent refreshed Hans Castorp, he opened his chest, and with the bent handle of his walking stick he pushed back his hat, which was pressed down on his forehead.Standing at a rather high place, he looked back and saw that the lake that he had just passed in the distance was as clear as a mirror, so he hummed a song.

He sang the tunes he remembered, all sorts of popular, sentimental songs from the college party songbook and the sports songbook, one of which had the lines: Poets should praise wine and love, But it is more important to sing the praises of virtue. At first he just hummed softly, then he sang loudly.His baritone voice was not loud enough, but now he felt that he sang beautifully, and singing made him more and more excited.The pitch was too high at the beginning, so he sang it in a false voice, but even so, he still found it very pleasant.When he couldn't think of certain melodies, he resorted to any syllables or words of unknown meaning that slipped to his lips to match the music, pursing his lips like a professional singer and making a tongue-rolling R sound beautifully.In the end, he was so excited that he invented some lyrics and tunes, and sang them while gesturing like a play.Because it was very difficult to sing while going uphill, he soon became more and more short of breath.But because he had realized his dream and thought that he could sing beautifully, he still sang with all his might, panting like a cow from time to time, and finally he couldn't catch his breath, dizzy, with stars popping out of his eyes, and his pulse beating faster and faster. Sooner, he had to sit down beside a thick pine tree.Originally he was in high spirits, but suddenly became depressed, listless, even almost discouraged.

When he regained his strength and continued his walk, he noticed that his neck was shaking violently, and his head, despite his youth, was shaking like that of his grandfather Hans Lorenz Castorp.This symptom reminded him of his late grandfather. Not only did he not feel disgusted with this gesture, but he even took pleasure in it—he could imitate the way the old man used to hold his chin to control the swing of his head, The young Hans was also deeply impressed by this. He climbed higher and higher in zigzags.The cowbells attracted him, and he found the herd; they were grazing near a hut whose roof was strewn with stones.Two bearded men came towards him with axes slung over their shoulders.They parted as they approached him. "Hey, strong body, thank God!" said one to the other in a low palatal voice, laying the ax on the other shoulder, and strode, clattering through the pine bushes, toward the valley. "Be strong, thank God!" This sentence sounds different in this silent mountain forest.Hans Castorp, already numb from climbing and singing, felt as if he were in a dream when he heard the sound.He tried his best to imitate the solemn and clumsy native language of the mountain people with a throaty voice, and repeated this sentence softly.By this time he had climbed to a place higher than the pasture cottage.He originally wanted to walk to the end of the woods, but after looking at his watch, he gave up this plan.

He followed a path to the left towards the village.This is a flat trail that turns down again later.There are towering ancient pines on both sides.As he passed through the pines, he began to sing softly again, but not as wildly as before, though his legs shook more miraculously than before as he descended.But when he walked out of the pine forest, he couldn't help being stunned when he saw the magnificent scenery in front of him, which was quiet, bright and picturesque. A mountain stream gurgles down the slope to the right and into a shallow, stony bed.It frothed as it poured over terraced boulders, then trickled down the valley.There stands a small bridge in a very attractive way, with railings made of rough wood.Here and there grew a kind of shrub, with bell-shaped flowers in bloom, all green.Well-proportioned and burly firs, solemn and solemn, some stand alone, some stand densely in groups on the canyon, and some stretch out to the high ground. One of the fir trees grows obliquely on the hillside, and its roots are firmly rooted. Standing firmly on the edge of the rushing stream, the bowed tree trunk is imposing and spectacular.In this beautiful, remote place, except for the sound of running water, everything is silent.On the other side of the stream Hans Castorp saw a bench for resting.

He crossed the bridge and sat down to amuse himself with the sight of the rushing water and the foaming foam, while listening to the idyllic, monotonous but actually varied sounds, because Hans Castorp I love the sound of running water just as much as I love music, even more than music.But as soon as he sat down to rest, he found that his nose was bleeding, and the nosebleed came so suddenly that he had no time to cover his clothes to keep the blood from getting stained.The blood flowed heavily and continuously, and it took about half an hour to stop it.At this time, he often had to pace up and down between the creek and the bench, washing his handkerchief for a while, sucking water vigorously with his nose for a while, and then stretched out his hands and feet on the bench, and put a wet cloth on his nose.And so he lay until the bleeding stopped at last--he lay still, with his hands folded behind his head, his knees raised, his eyes closed, and all he could hear was the gurgle of water.He didn't feel uncomfortable, and the bleeding made him feel better, but he felt that his vitality was strangely weakened, because when he exhaled, he felt that he didn't need to take in any fresh air, and he just wanted his body to stay still. Lie down and let his heart beat so hard that he can breathe in slowly and gently. He felt that he had suddenly returned to the past living environment.In the previous few nights he had often dreamed, and the dreams shaped his impressions of the past few days one by one, and now they reproduced vividly and vividly in his mind.It is so engrossed in the memory of the past that it loses even the notions of time and space.First of all, we can say that what lies here on the bench by the stream is only a lifeless body, while the real Hans Castorp has returned to distant times and places where he once lived— The circumstances were childish to him, but adventurous and fascinating. At that time, he was thirteen years old, and he was in the fourth grade of the old nine-year middle school in Germany, which was equivalent to the first grade of junior high school in the old school system before liberation.Students, wearing shorts, standing around the campus chatting with other students of similar age in other classes. It was short, but the conversation delighted him exceedingly.It happened to be a break between the last two lessons—for Hans Castorp's class, one history and one drawing.The campus is paved with solid red bricks, separated from the outside world only by a wall with two doors in the middle for entry and exit, and the walls are covered with shingles.Some of the children walked around the campus, some stood in groups, and some squatted and leaned against the bare bumps on the campus wall.The campus was full of noise.A teacher with a drooping hat watches over the pupils, chewing on a ham sandwich. The boy with whom Hans Castorp was talking was called Hippe and Pribislav.An obvious feature is that when people call his name, R's voice is often distorted, becoming "Pushislav".This weird name suits his appearance quite well, and his appearance is also different, quite exotic.Hippe's father was a historian and pre-university teacher, so he was a famous model student, although Hans Castorp was about the same age, he was a class ahead of him.He is a Mecklenburger, and his blood is obviously a mixture of various ancient races. Wends are mixed with Germanic blood. Wends were originally the general name of the Slavs, and later only refer to the Slavs living in Lausitz in northern Germany. . -Slavs, or Wendish-Slavs mixed with Germans.Although his hair is blond, cut short and draped over his round head, his eyes are blue-gray or gray-blue, which is a hazy and ambiguous color, as if in the distance. The color of the mountains.The eyes were small and odd, rather squinting, with high cheekbones beneath them.For him, this face shape did not make him ugly at all, on the contrary, he was attractive, so his classmates nicknamed him "Kirghiz".In addition, Hippe wore suspender trousers and a blue turtleneck top, which often had some dandruff on the collar. The reality is that Hans Castorp had already taken a fancy to this Pribislav, picked him out of the bustling crowd of familiar and unfamiliar people on campus, became interested in him, and kept his eyes peeled for a moment. Keep staring at him.Could it be that Hans admired him? In any case, he watched him with special sympathy.Even on the way to school, he kept watching how he socialized and talked with his classmates, and he could distinguish his voice from a distance. His voice sounded so pleasant, but it was a little vague and hoarse.It must be admitted that there was no good reason for Hans' preference for him, unless his pagan name and the title of model student (but this was of little importance to Hans) attracted him, or his Kyrgyz eyes There was a certain charm to Hans.Sometimes when the eyes squinted absent-mindedly, a shadow would creep over them.Hans Castorp seldom asked what was the cause of this feeling, nor did he care what it should be called if necessary.There is no friendship here, since he does not "know" Hippe at all in the first place.But first of all, naming it is not necessary at all. Anyway, it can never be a topic of discussion. It is out of date, and he doesn't want it.Secondly, naming, if not judging, at least defines, that is, classifies it as familiar and customary, and Hans Castorp's mind is unconsciously saturated with the conviction that And this kind of "inner goodness" never needs any definition and classification. However, whether this feeling is justified or not (it has no proper name and is difficult to express), it has a strong vitality; for a year or so, Hans Castorp has been silent With this feeling.We say about a year, because it is impossible to say when it started.If one considers how long a year was in those days, then this is enough to show the loyal side of Hans' character.Unfortunately, in defining character, moral judgments are often required, whether praised or condemned, although every personality has two sides.Hans Castorp's "fidelity" - which he is not proud of - is clumsy, pedantic and obstinate, and at the same time there is such a tone, that is, the attachment to life And durable affection is very respectful, and the longer it lasts, the more respect it will have.He also wants to believe that his current situation and situation are eternal, cherish it, and have to change.Therefore, from the bottom of his heart, he was accustomed to maintain a silent and distant relationship with Pribislav Hippe, and regarded it as a fixed and indispensable thing in life.He liked the flow of thoughts, and the eagerness to meet Hippe today, and whether Hippe would pass by him, and the possibility of glancing at him.He also loved the silent and delicate satisfaction that the secret of his heart brought him, and even had a fondness for the feeling of discouragement; his disappointment reached its peak when Pribislav was "absent."At that time, he felt that the campus was bleak and life was eclipsed, but he still had hope. This went on for a year, until it reached its precipitous height; then, through the unwavering devotion of Hans Castorp, another year, and then stopped.The bonds of friendship between Hans and Pribislav were now loose, but Hans did not see this as clearly as when their relationship was first established.Pribislav, too, had left the school and the city because of his father's transfer, but Hans Castorp hardly minded this, and Hans had forgotten him long before he left school.We can say that the image of this "Kirghiz" came into his life unconsciously from the mist, and then gradually became clearer and more elusive, until he walked more and more in the campus. The closer the image is, the clearer and more specific it is.In this way, he stood for a while like the figure in the foreground, then gradually backed away, and disappeared in the clouds and mist after a while, and there was no pain in parting. Hans Castorp recalled in a trance a frightening scene—that is, a conversation with Pribislav Hipper—that went like this: The next stanza is In drawing class, Hans Castorp realized that he didn't have any pencils with him.His classmates all use it themselves, but he also knows some students in other classes, so he can borrow one from them.However, he knew Pribislav best, was close to him, not to mention his confidant, so he excitedly summoned up his courage and decided to use this opportunity (he called it "opportunity") to ask Pribislav Slav borrows a pencil.It was rather awkward, since he didn't actually know Hipper well.But because of his audacity to break all scruples, he didn't realize it, or ignored it at all.In the red-bricked campus, now full of people, he stood right in front of Pribislav Shipe and said to him: "Excuse me, can you lend me a pencil?" Pribislav looked at him with Kyrgyz eyes above his prominent cheekbones, and answered in his husky, melodious voice.He wasn't surprised, or at least didn't look surprised. "Yes," he said, "but you must return it to me after class." So he fumbled for the pencil from his pocket.It was a silver-plated pencil with a small ring at the end, and when you pushed it up, the lead would pop out of the metal sleeve.Hippe explained the simple mechanism to him, while the two leaned over to look, their heads together. "Don't break it!" he added. Where did he think it was? As if I, Hans Castorp, were deliberately throwing away this pencil and not giving it back to him, or were using it so carelessly.They looked at each other and smiled, and there was nothing more to say, so they parted, first twisting their shoulders, then their backs. That's how it happened.But never in his life had Hans Castorp been in such high spirits as at this drawing lesson, for he had drawn with Pribislav Hipper's pencil and was going to return it to its original owner after the lesson— Returning time is like borrowing time, still calm and unhurried.He sharpened the pencils himself; and from the small flakes of red lacquer he kept three or four of them, and kept them for a whole year or so in the inner drawer of his desk, no one who had seen them would have guessed. Find out what they mean.The way to return the pencil is also very simple, but it is completely in Hans Castorp's taste.Indeed, he was somewhat elated, elated by his intimate association with Hippe. "Here, here you go," said Hans. "Thank you." Pribislav said nothing, but made a quick check of the moving mechanism, and stuffed the pencil into his pocket. . . . They never spoke again, this time only through Hans Castorp's aggressiveness. He tried his best to open his eyes, dazed and at a loss because of the dazed trance just now. "I just had a dream," he thought. "Yes, this is Pribislav. I haven't thought of him for a long time. Where are the flakes of pencil shavings now? The desk is still in the attic of my uncle Tien Napel. Now the pencil shavings must be Still in the left-hand drawer behind the desk. I never take them out. I don't even bother to throw them away, and here you go... I just saw Pribislav himself. I can't imagine would see his image again with such clarity. How much he looked like her—how like this woman on the hill! Is that why I was so interested in her? The reason? Nonsense, nothing short of nonsense! I must go, and go quickly." But he lay still, brooding, wrestling with memories.Then he stood up. "Body is strong, thank God!" he muttered, tears welling up in his eyes, but smiling at the same time.He was about to leave now, but sat down again, hat and cane in his hand, because he could not keep his knees straight. "Ouch!" thought he, "that's impossible! I was supposed to be back in the dining-room for my report at exactly eleven o'clock. It's a nice walk here, but it seems to be difficult. Well, well, I'm going to stay here." No. I’ve been lying down for a long time, and my body feels a little numb, maybe I’ll get better if I move around.” He tried to stand up and walk again, but it took a lot of effort to take a step. He was in high spirits when he came out, but he was downcast on the way back to the hospital.He had to rest on the side of the road several times, because his face suddenly became pale, cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his heart was beating wildly, and he couldn't even breathe.He managed to walk downhill along the winding mountain road, but when he came to the valley near the sanatorium hotel, he clearly felt that he was out of energy and could not complete the journey to the sanatorium on foot. There were no trams or cabs, and just at that moment a man was driving a mule cart full of empty boxes to the "village" and begged him to let him sit in it.He sat back to back with the driver, his legs dangling from the car.With the bumps of the car, he swayed back and forth, his head bobbing up and down, and fell asleep. Passers-by stared at him with curious sympathy.He got off at the crossing of the railroad tracks, paid the money (he didn't care how much he paid), and climbed hastily and recklessly up the road to the sanatorium. "Quick, sir," said the French porter. "Doctor Krokowski's lecture has just begun." Hans Castorp hung his hat and cane on the coat rack, gritted his teeth, and squeezed his way through the crowd hastily and carefully, half way through the crowd. Open the glass door and walk to the dining room.By this time the patients were sitting in rows of chairs, and in the narrow corner on the right Krokowski, in a frock coat, was lecturing behind a table covered with a tablecloth and A large bottle of water...