When they came up from eating, the package with the blankets was already lying on a chair in Hans Castorp’s room, and for the first time that day he made use of it – the practiced Joachim gave him lessons in the art of wrapping himself up, like everyone else up here and every newcomer had to learn it right away. The blankets were spread out, one and then the other, over the bed of chairs so that at the foot end they hung a fair distance to the floor. Then you sat down and began to fold the inner one around you: first lengthwise to your armpits, then from below over your feet, having to bend down while seated and grasp the folded end twice, and then from the other side, whereby the double toe was to fit well to the longitudinal edge if the greatest possible smoothness and evenness was achievedshould be. Exactly the same procedure was then observed with the outer cover – its handling was somewhat more difficult, and Hans Castorp, as a bungler and beginner, groaned not a little while bending down and stretching out again, practicing the grips which onetaught him. Only a few veterans, Joachim said, could throw both blankets around in three sure swipes at the same time , but that was a rare and envied skill that required not only years of practice but also a natural aptitude. Hans Castorp had to laugh at that word as he fell back with aching back, and Joachim, who didn’t immediately understand what was funny here, looked at him uncertainly, but then laughed too.

“So,” he said, when Hans Castorp lay in the chair, unjointed and cylindrical, the flexible roll behind his neck and exhausted from all the gymnastics, “if it were twenty degrees cold, nothing could happen to you either.” And then he left behind the glass wall to wrap up too.

Hans Castorp doubted that, with the twenty degrees of cold, because he was decidedly cold, shivers ran over him repeatedly while he looked through the wooden arches at the seeping, drizzled wetness out there, which seemed about to turn to snowfall at any moment. How strange, by the way, that despite all the dampness his cheeks were still dry and hot, as if he were sitting in an overheated room. He also felt ridiculously offended by the exercises with the blankets – indeed, ” Ocean steamships ” trembled in his hands as soon as he laid it before his eyes. He wasn’t all that healthy after all – totally anemic, as Councilor Behrens had said, and that’s probably why he was inclinedso to the frost. The unpleasant sensations, however, were outweighed by the great comfort of its position, the almost mysterious properties of the lounge chair, which are difficult to analyze and which Hans Castorp had already felt with the greatest applause at the first attempt, and which proved themselves happily again and again. Whether it was the quality of the upholstery, the right inclination of the backrest, the right height and width of the armrests, or even just the appropriate consistency of the neck roll, enough, the well-being of resting limbs could not be taken care of more humanely than by this excellent deck chair . And so there was satisfaction in Hans Castorp’s heart that two empty and safely peaceful hours lay ahead of him, these hours of the main rest cure, sanctified by the house rules, which he, although only as a guest up here, as an arrangement that was quite appropriate for him. For he was patient by nature, could survive for a long time without employment and, as we remember, loved his free time, which is not forgotten, consumed and chased away by numbing activity. At four o’clock there was afternoon tea with cake and preserves, followed by some exercise in the open air, then rest in the chair again, at seven supper, which, like meals in general, brought with it certain tensions and sights to look forward to one or the other look into the stereoscopic peep box, the kaleidoscopic telescope and the cinematographic drum … Hans Castorp already had the daily routine under his belt, even if it would be saying much too much that he had already “settled in”, as it is called,

Basically, there is a strange thing about this settling in in a foreign place, this – be it also – laborious adjustment and getting used to it, which one undergoes almost for its own sake and with the specific intention of making it scarcely that it is completed, or at least soon thereafter giving up again and returning to the previous condition. Such things are inserted as an interruption and interlude in the main context of life, namely for the purpose of “recovery”, that is: the renewing, revolutionary exercise of the organism, which was in danger and was already about to recover in the unstructured monotony of the conduct of life pamper, relax and dull. But what is the basis for this slackening and dulling if the rule has not been suspended for too long? It is not so much physical-spiritual fatigue and wear and tear from the demands of life that causes it (for for these simple rest would be the restorative remedy); it is rather something of the soul, it is the experience of time – which threatens to get lost if there is an uninterrupted balance and is so closely related and connected to the feeling of life itself that one cannot be weakened without the other also suffering a miserable impairment experience There are many misconceptions about the nature of boredom. On the whole one believes that the interesting and novelty of the content “passes” the time, that is: shortens it, while monotony and emptiness weighs down and impedes its course. This is not necessarily true. Emptiness and monotony may stretch out the moment and the hour and make it “boring”, but the great and greatest masses of time shorten and even evaporate themto nullity. Conversely, a rich and interesting content is indeed capable of shortening and enlivening the hour and even the day, but on a large scale it gives breadth, weight and solidity to the passage of time, so that eventful years pass much more slowly than those poor, empty, light ones that the wind blows in front of it and they fly away. So what is called boredom is actually rather a pathological shortness of time as a result of monotony: large periods of time shrink in uninterrupted uniformity in a manner that frightens the heart to death; if one day is like all, they are all like one; and with perfect uniformity the longest life would be experienced as very short and would have vanished inadvertently. Getting used to it means falling asleep or at least a fading of the sense of time, and if the years of youth are experienced slowly, but later life proceeds more and more quickly and hurriedly, then that too must be based on getting used to. We know well that the involvement of changes and new habits is the only way to maintain our life, to refresh our sense of time, to achieve a rejuvenation, strengthening, slowing down of our experience of time and thus the renewal of our feeling for life in general. This is the purpose of the change of place and air, the bathing trip, the restfulness of the change and the episode. The first days of a new stay have a youthful, that is, strong and broad gait – it is about six to eight. Then, to the extent that one “settles in”, gradual foreshortening makes itself felt: who is hanging on to life or,scurry begin; and the last week, about four weeks, has uncanny rapidity and volatility. Of course, the refreshment of the sense of time then has an effect beyond the switch-on, makes itself felt again when one has returned to the rule: the first days at home are also experienced again, after the change, as new, broad and youthful, but only a few : because as a rule one gets used to it more quickly than when it is abolished, and if the sense of time is already tired through old age or – a sign of original weakness in life – was never strongly developed, it falls asleep again very quickly, and after that twenty-four hours it is as if one had never been away and as if the journey were a night’s dream.

These remarks are included here only because young Hans Castorp had similar intentions when, after a few days, he said to his cousin (looking at him with red-veined eyes):

“It is and will always be funny how the time gets long at the beginning, in a strange place. That means … Of course I can’t say that I’m bored, on the contrary, I can say that I’m having a great time. But when I look around, retrospectively, understand me correctly, it seems to me that I’ve been up here for who knows how long, and back to where I arrived and didn’t immediately understand that I was there, and you said: ‘Just get out!’ – do you remember? – that seems like an eternity to me. It has absolutely nothing to do with measuring and with the mind in general, it is purely a matter of feeling. Of course it would be silly to say: ‘I think I’ve been here for two months’ – that would be nonsense. All I can say is: ‘Very long’.”

“Yes,” answered Joachim, the thermometer in his mouth, “it’s good for me too, I can hold on to you to a certain extent since you’ve been here.” And Hans Castorp laughed at the fact that Joachim said it so simply, without explanation.