It was seven months in the next few days that young Hans Castorp stayed up here, while cousin Joachim, who had five of them under his belt when he arrived, now looked back on twelve, that is, on a little year – a round year, – round in the cosmic sense that since the little powerful locomotive deposited him here, the earth had once completed its orbit around the sun and returned to the point of yore. It was carnival time. Fastnacht was just around the corner, and Hans Castorp asked the year-old how it was.
“Magnifik!” replied Settembrini, whom the cousins had met again at the morning motion. “Splendid!” he replied. “It’s as fun as in the Prater, you’ll see, engineer. Then we’ll be right here in a row, the brilliant gallants,” he said, and then continued to meditate with a bulging mouth, accompanying his panting speeches with successful arm, head and shoulder movements: “What do you want, also in the maison de santé balls sometimes take place, for the fools and idiots, as I have read – why not here too? The program includes the most diverse danses macabres as you can imagine. Unfortunately, a certain number of last year’s festival participants cannot appear this time, as the festival ends at 9:30 a.m. …”
“You mean … Oh, excellent!” laughed Hans Castorp. “Are you a joker—! ‘At 9½’ – did you hear it, you? That’s too early for ‘a certain part’ of the previous year to participate for an hour, says HerrSettembrini. Ha ha, scary. That’s the part that has meanwhile finally said valet to the ‘meat’. Do you understand my pun? But I’m excited about that,” he said. “I think it’s right that we celebrate the festivals here as they fall and mark the stages in the usual way, the cuts so that there is no unstructured monotony, that would be too strange. We had Christmas then and knew it was New Year’s, and now it’s Fastnacht. Then comes Palm Sunday (is there a squiggle here?), Holy Week, Easter and Pentecost, which is six weeks later, and then it’s almost the longest day, summer solstice, you know, and autumn is approaching…”
“Stop! stop! stop!” cried Settembrini, raising his face to the sky and pressing his palms to his temples. “Be quiet! I forbid you to let the reins fly like that!”
“Excuse me, I’m saying the opposite… By the way, Behrens will probably decide to have the injections in the end to achieve my detoxification, because I’m constantly on thirty-seven-four, -five, -six and also -seven. That doesn’t want to change. I am and will remain a problem child of life. I’m not long-term, Radamanth never told me anything specific, but he says there’s no point in stopping the cure early when I’ve been up here so long and invested so much time, so to speak. What good was it if he set me an appointment? That wouldn’t mean much, because if he says, for example: half a year, it’s very close, you have to be prepared for moremake. You can see that in my cousin, he should be ready at the beginning of the month – finished in the sense of healed – but the last time Behrens added four months to his complete healing – well, and what do we have then? Then we have the summer solstice, as I said without wanting to irritate you, and winter is approaching again. But for the moment we have Mardi Gras, of course – you hear me, I think it’s good and nice that we’re going to celebrate everything here in the order it’s written in the calendar. Frau Stöhr said that children’s trumpets can be bought in the concierge lounge?”
That was true. Already at the first breakfast on Shrove Tuesday, which was there before you even caught sight of it from afar – early in the morning there were all sorts of jocular wind instruments in the dining room, buzzing and tooting; at lunch streams of paper were already flying from the table of Gänsers, Rasmussens and Kleefeld, and several people, for example the round-eyed Marusja, wore paper headgear, which could also be bought from the limping man in the front of the box; but in the evening a festive sociability unfolded in the hall and in the conversation rooms, which in its course … Only we know for the time being what, thanks to Hans Castorp’s enterprising spirit, this carnival sociability led to in its course. But we don’t let our knowledge carry us away, nor do we let ourselves be carried away from our deliberation,
In general, people made a pilgrimage to “Platz” in the afternoon to see the carnival street life. Masks had been about, pierrotts and harlequins handling rattling bunks, and confetti skirmishes had been fought between the pedestrians and the equally masked occupants of the passing decorated sleighs. People gathered at the seven tables for the evening meal in high spirits, determined to continue cultivating the public spirit in a closed circle. The concierge’s paper caps, snarls and hooters had been widely used, and public prosecutor Paravant had started with further travesty by putting on a women’s kimono and a false braid, which according to many acclamations belonged to Consul General Wurmbrandt, had drawn his mustache downwards with a branding iron and so really resembled a Chinese man. The administration had not stood back. She had decorated each of the seven tables with a paper lantern, a colored moon with a burning candle inside, so that Settembrini, walking past Hans Castorp’s tables as he entered the room, quoted a poet’s quote relating to this illumination:
“Look at the colorful flames!
It’s a lively club together.”
he uttered, with a delicate and dry smile, as he sauntered on to his seat, to be greeted there with small projectiles, thin-walled pellets filled with a fragrant liquid, which shattered on impact and showered the victim with perfume.
In short, the festive mood was very strong from the start. Laughter reigned, streamers of paper hanging from the chandeliers blew back and forth in the breeze, confetti was floating in the gravy, soon the dwarf could be seen hurrying past with the first ice bucket, the first bottle of champagne, the sparkling wine was mixed with Burgundy, why did Attorney Einhuf do that The signal was given, and when towards the end of the meal the ceiling light went out and only the lanterns lit up the dining room with colorful twilight, Italian nocturnal, the mood was perfect, and Hans Castorp at the table aroused much approval when Settembrini sent over a note ( he handed it to Marusya, who was sitting next to him and was wearing a jockey’s cap made of green tissue paper, on which he had written in pencil:
“Just consider! The mountain is magical today,
And if a will-o’-the-wisp should show you the way,
You don’t have to take it that precisely.”
Dr. Blumenkohl, who was feeling very bad again, murmured something to himself with that peculiar expression on his face, or actually on his lips, from which one could infer what kind of verses those verses were. For his part, Hans Castorp said he shouldn’t be left with the answer, jokingly felt obliged to write a reply on the note, which of course could only have been extremely insignificant. He looked for a pencil in his pockets but couldn’t find one and couldn’t get one from Joachim and the teacher either. His red-veined eyes looked east for help, in the left-rear corner of the hall, and yousaw how his fleeting project degenerated into such extensive associations that he turned pale and forgot his basic intention altogether.
whispered to himself: “My God!” – He had never seen this kind of dress cut. He knew ballroom toilets, festively permissible, even regulation, revelations that had been far more comprehensive than this without being remotely as sensational. Poor Hans Castorp’s earlier assumption, above all, proved to be a mistake, that the lure, the irrational lure of these poor people, whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without such a punitive “transfiguration”, as he called it at the time might prove less deep. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than – He had never seen this kind of dress cut before. He knew ballroom toilets, festively permissible, even regulation, revelations that had been far more comprehensive than this without being remotely as sensational. Poor Hans Castorp’s earlier assumption, above all, proved to be a mistake, that the lure, the irrational lure of these poor people, whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without such a punitive “transfiguration”, as he called it at the time might prove less deep. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than – He had never seen this kind of dress cut before. He knew ballroom toilets, festively permissible, even regulation, revelations that had been far more comprehensive than this without being remotely as sensational. Poor Hans Castorp’s earlier assumption, above all, proved to be a mistake, that the lure, the irrational lure of these poor people, whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without such a punitive “transfiguration”, as he called it at the time might prove less deep. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than which had been far more comprehensive than this without being remotely as sensational. Poor Hans Castorp’s earlier assumption, above all, proved to be a mistake, that the lure, the irrational lure of these poor people, whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without such a punitive “transfiguration”, as he called it at the time might prove less deep. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than which had been far more comprehensive than this without being remotely as sensational. Poor Hans Castorp’s earlier assumption, above all, proved to be a mistake, that the lure, the irrational lure of these poor people, whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without such a punitive “transfiguration”, as he called it at the time might prove less deep. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without what he then called “transfiguration” as punitive as he then called it, might prove less profound. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful than whose acquaintance he had already made through thin gauze, without what he then called “transfiguration” as punitive as he then called it, might prove less profound. Mistake! Fatal self-deception! The full, highly emphasized, and dazzling nudity of these splendid limbs of a poisonous organism was an event proving far more powerful thanthe Transfiguration of yesteryear, an apparition to which there was no other answer than bowing your head and silently repeating: “My God!”
A little later a note came that said:
“As much company as one could ask for.
Truly, all brides!
And bachelors man for man
The most hopeful people!”
“Bravo, bravo!” was shouted. One was already at the mocha, which was served in small earthen-brown pots, and also at the liqueurs, for example Mrs. Stöhr, who loved to sip sweets and spirits. Society began to dissolve, to circulate. People visited each other, changed tables. Some of the guests had already retreated to the conversation rooms, while others stayed put, continuing to enjoy the wine mixture. Settembrini now came over in person, his coffee cup in his hand, toothpick between his lips, and sat down at the corner of the table between Hans Castorp and the teacher to observe.
“Harz Mountains,” he said. “Area of Schierke and misery. Did I promise you too much, engineer? I call that a fair! But just wait, our wit won’t be exhausted anytime soon, we’re not up to par, let alone the end. From what we hear, there will be more masks. Certain people have withdrawn – that justifies all sorts of expectations, you will see.”
New disguises really did appear: ladies in men’s costumes, operetta-like and improbable because of the expansive onesForms, the faces blackened with charred bottle corks, bearded; Gentlemen, conversely, who had donned women’s robes over whose skirts they stumbled, such as Studiosus Rasmussen, who, in a black, jet-strewn outfit, displayed a pimply décolleté which he cooled with a paper fan, including his back. A beggar man appeared, crooked, hanging on a crutch. Someone had made a Pierrot costume out of white underwear and a woman’s felt, powdered his face so that his eyes looked unnatural, and raised his mouth with lip pomade until bloody. It was the boy with the fingernail. A Greek from the Bad Russian Table, with nice legs, strutted in purple jersey underpants, with little coats, Paper curl and a sword stick as a Spanish grandee or fairytale prince. All these masks had been hastily improvised after the meal was over. Frau Stöhr no longer suffered in her chair. She disappeared, only to return after a short while as a scrubber, with her skirt pulled up and her sleeves rolled up, the ribbons of her paper cap knotted under her chin and armed with a bucket and broom, which she began to use, putting the wet mop under the tables, the seated between the feet.
“Old Baubo comes alone”,
Settembrini recited when he saw it and also added the rhyming verse, clear and vivid. She heard it, called him “welscher Hahn” and asked him to keep his “Zötchen” to himself, while she used the first name in the spirit of mask freedom; for this form of intercourse had already been generally adopted during the meal. He was preparing to heranswer when noise and laughter from the hall interrupted him and caused a stir in the room.
Followed by guests who came out of the conversation rooms, two strange figures made their entrance who had probably only just finished dressing up. One was dressed as a deaconess, but her black habit was sewn across from neck to hem with strips of white ribbon, short ones lying close together and rarer ones projecting beyond them, like the lines of a thermometer. She held her index finger to her pale mouth and carried a temperature chart in her right hand. The other mask appeared blue on blue: with blue-colored lips and eyebrows, the rest of the face and neck still painted blue, a blue woolen cap pulled crookedly over the ear and clothed with a suit or cover made of blue shiny linen, the one made of one piece worked, was tied at the ankles with ribbons and stuffed in the middle to form a round belly. One recognized Mrs. Iltis and Mr. Albin. Both wore cardboard signs on which it was written: “The mute sister” and: “The blue Heinrich”. In a kind of wobbling step, they moved around the hall.
That got an applause! The calls buzzed. Frau Stoehr, her broom under her arm, her hands on her knees, laughed excessively and vulgarly to her heart’s content, using her role as a charwoman. Only Settembrini was unapproachable. His lips, beneath the beautifully curved mustache, tightened extremely after he caught a glimpse of the successful pair of masks.
Among those who had come back from the conversation rooms in the wake of the blue and the mute,was also Clawdia Chauchat. Together with the woolly haired Tamara and that fellow with the concave chest, a certain Buligin, who wore dinner suit, she brushed past Hans Castorp’s tables in her new dress and moved diagonally across to that of young Gänser and Kleefeld, where she, the hands behind her back, narrowed her eyes, laughing and chatting, while her companions continued to follow the allegorical ghosts and left the hall with them. Mrs. Chauchat had also adorned herself with a carnival cap – it wasn’t even a bought one, but of the kind that children make, simply folded out of white paper into a tricorne hat, and by the way, put it on crosswise, it dressed her splendidly. The dark gold-brown silk dress was footless, the skirt was made a little baggy. We say nothing more about the poor here. They were naked up to their shoulders.
“Take a close look at her!” Hans Castorp heard Mr. Settembrini say as if from afar, while he followed her with his eyes towards the glass door and out of the hall, as she soon walked on. “Lilith is that.”
“Who?” asked Hans Castorp.
The writer was happy. He replicated:
“Adam’s first wife. Watch out …”
Besides the two of them, only Dr. Cauliflower at the table, in its distant place. The rest of the dinner party, including Joachim, had moved to the conversation rooms. Hans Castorp said:
“You are full of poetry and verse today. What kind of Lilli is that again? So was Adam married twice? I had no idea …”
“The Hebrew legend says so. This Lilith has become a night spook, dangerous for young men especially because of her beautiful hair.”
“Fuck the devil! A night spook with beautiful hair. You can’t stand that, can you? Here you come and turn on the electric light, so to speak, to set the young men on the right path – don’t you do that?” said Hans Castorp fantastically. He had drunk quite a bit of the wine mixture.
“Listen, Engineer, don’t do that!” Settembrini ordered with a frown. “Use the form of address customary in the educated West, the third person pluralis , if I may ask! It doesn’t suit you at all what you’re trying to do.”
“But why? We have carnival! It is generally accepted tonight…”
“Yes, for the sake of an indecent charm. The ‘thou’ among strangers, that is, among people who rightfully call one another ‘you’, is a repulsive wildness, a game of origins, a slovenly game that I detest because it was basically anti-civilization and anti-development Humanity directs itself – boldly and shamelessly directed against it. I didn’t call you ‘you’ either, don’t imagine it! I quoted a passage from the masterpiece of your national literature. So I spoke poetically…”
“Me too! I also speak poetically, so to speak – because the moment afterwards seems to appeal to me, that’s why I speak like that. I’m not saying that it’s so natural and easy for me to call you ‘you’, on the contrary, it takes a certain amount of self-control, I have toI give myself a push to do it, but I give myself this push gladly, I give it to myself joyfully and from the heart…”
“From the heart?”
“From the bottom of my heart, yes, you can believe me. We’ve been up here together for so long now – seven months if you count; that’s not even very much for our conditions up here, but for lower terms, when I think back, it’s a lot of time. Well, and we have now spent that together, because life brought us together here, and we saw each other almost every day and had interesting conversations with each other, partly about subjects that I would not have understood at all down below. But here very well; here they were very important and obvious to me, so that whenever we were discussing I was fully involved. Or rather, if you treat me as homo humanusexplicated because of course I didn’t have much to contribute due to my previous inexperience and could only find what you said extremely worth hearing. Through you I have experienced and understood so much… That with Carducci was the least, but how, for example, the republic is connected with beautiful style or time with human progress – whereas if there were no time, there could be no human progress either, but the world were but a stagnant water-hole and a putrid pool—what would I know of it if it had not been for you! I just call you ‘you’ and don’t address you any further, sorry because I don’t know how that should happen – I’m not good at it. There you sit and I just say ‘you’ to you, that’s enough. You’re not just any man with a nameMr. Settembrini, a representative here and at my side – that’s you,” confirmed Hans Castorp and slapped the tablecloth with the palm of his hand. “And now I want to thank you,” he continued, pushing his glass of champagne and Burgundy towards Mr. Settembrini’s coffee cup, as if to toast him on the table, “for being so kind during these seven months you accepted mine and gave me a hand with my exercises and experiments and tried to have a corrective effect on my young mulus , on whom so many new things invaded, completely sine pecunia, partly with stories and partly in abstract form. I have a distinct feeling that the moment has come to thank you for that and for all of this and to ask your forgiveness if I was a bad student, a ‘problem child of life’ as you put it. It really touched me when you said that, and every time I think about it, it touches me again. I was probably also a problem child for you and your pedagogical streak, which you brought up on the very first day – of course, that is also one of the connections that you taught me, that of humanism and pedagogy, I’m sure I’ll come up with more as time goes on. So forgive me and don’t think badly of me! Your well-being, Mr. Settembrini, shall live! I empty my glass in honor of your literary efforts to eradicate human suffering!” he concluded, leaned backwards, drank his wine mixture in a few large sips and stood up. “Now let’s go over to the others.”
“Listen, engineer, what’s gotten into your crown?” said the Italian, eyes full of astonishment, and also left the table. “That sounds like goodbye…”
“No, why farewell?” Hans Castorp avoided. Not only did he dodge physically, with his words, but also physically, describing an arc with his upper body, and he held on to the teacher, Fraulein Engelhart, who had just come to fetch her. She reported that the privy councilor was pouring a carnival punch with his own hand in the piano room, which the administration had donated. The gentlemen, she said, would like to come right away if they wanted to get a glass too. So they went over.
In fact, Hofrat Behrens was standing in there, surrounded by the guests, who were holding out small glasses with their handles, at the round table in the middle, which had a white tablecloth, and he was scooping steaming drink out of a tureen with a ladle. He, too, had cheered up his appearance a little in a carnivalesque way, namely by putting on a genuine Turkish fez, carmine red, with a black tassel dangling over his ear, in addition to the clinical coat he wore today, since his work never rested had—costume enough for him, both together; it was enough to increase his already striking appearance to something thoroughly whimsical and exuberant. The long white smock exaggerated the greatness of the privy councillor; one brought the flexion of the neck into play by mentally eliminating it and straightening one’s form to the full height, he seemed almost larger than life, with a small, colorful head of the most peculiar shape. To young Hans Castorp, at least, this face had never seemed so strange as it does today under the foolish covering: this snub-nosed, flat and bluish, heated physiognomy, in which the blue eyes swelled with tears under white-blonde brows and over the arched, arching mouththe bright and crooked little mustache stood. Averse to the steam that swirled out of the tureen in front of him, he let the brown drink, a sugary arrack punch, flow in an arc from the ladle into the offered glasses, incessantly indulging in his tidy gibberish, so that laughter roared around the table accompanied the serving.
“Mr. Urian is sitting on top,” explained Settembrini quietly with a hand gesture towards the privy councilor and was then pulled away to Hans Castorp’s side. also dr Krokowski was present. Short, stocky, and robust, his black shirt with empty sleeves slung over his shoulders in a domino-like manner, he held his glass at eye level, hand twisted, chatting happily to a group of masked sexes. music started. The patient with the tapir face played Handel’s Largo on the violin and then a Grieg sonata, the character of which was national and salon-like, accompanied by the pianist of the Mannheimer. There was benevolent applause, including at the two bridge tables that had been set up and where masked and unmasked people were sitting, bottles in ice buckets next to them. The doors stood open; there were also guests in the hall. A group around the round table with the punch bowl watched the councilor turn the leader into a parlor game. He drew with his eyes closed, standing up, hunched over the table, but with his head back so that everyone could see that his eyes were closed, blindly drew a figure in pencil on the back of a business card – it was the outline of a little pig holding his huge hand without using his eyesof a little pig in profile–somewhat simple, and more ideal than life-true, but it was unmistakably the basic figure of a little pig, which he contracted under such aggravating conditions. It was a feat and he could do it. The little slit eye came to sit about where it belonged, a little too far forward on the trunk, but still about in place; it was no different with the pointed ear on the head, the little legs that hung on the rounded little belly; and as a continuation of the equally rounded back line, the little tail curled itself very nicely. One cried ‘Ah!’ when the work was done, and rushed to try, filled with ambition, to emulate the master. Very few would have been able to draw a pig with open eyes, let alone closed ones. What freaks came about! There was a total lack of context. The little eye fell outside the head, the little legs inside the belly, which in turn was far from closing, and the little tail curled somewhere off the beaten track, completely unrelated to the confused main figure, as an independent arabesque. You wanted to burst out laughing. The group moved in. There was a stir at the bridge tables, and players fanned out inquisitively, their cards in hand. The bystanders looked down at the eyelids of the experimenter to see if he didn’t blink, which some were tempted to do by their sense of impotence, giggled and snorted when he committed his blind errors, and burst into cheers when he, the Eyes widening, he looked down at his absurd concoction. False confidence drove everyone to compete. The map, though spacious, quickly became crowded on both sides, so thatthe missed figures overlapped. But the privy councilor sacrificed a second one from his portfolio, on which the prosecutor Paravant, after secret deliberation, sacrificed the little pig in one go– with the result that his failure surpassed all that had gone before: the ornament he created not only bore the remotest resemblance to any piggy, but to anything in the world at all. Hello, laughter and stormy congratulations! Menu cards were brought in from the dining room – so now several people, ladies and gentlemen, could draw at once, and each competitor had his minders and spectators, each of whom in turn was a candidate for the pen that was being handled. There were three pencils that were torn out of one’s hands. They belonged to guests. The privy councillor, having gotten the new game underway and seeing it in full swing, had disappeared with the aide.
Hans Castorp, in the crowd, watched a draftsman over Joachim’s shoulder, leaning on his shoulder with his elbow, holding his chin with all five fingers and resting his other hand on his hip. He talked and laughed. He also wanted to draw, asked loudly for it and was given the pencil, which was already a very short thing, you could only guide it with your thumb and forefinger. He cursed the stub, his blind face raised to the ceiling, cursed loudly and cursed the inconvenience of the pen, throwing a dreadful nonsense on the box with flying hands, finally missing even it and ending up on the tablecloth. “That doesn’t apply!” he called into the deserved laughter. “How should one with such – to hell with it!” Andhe threw the accused butt into the punch bowl. “Who has a decent pencil? Who lends me one? I have to draw again! A pencil, a pencil! he called out to both sides, left forearm still on the tabletop and right hand shaking high in the air. He didn’t get one. Then he turned and went into the room, continuing to call out—went straight up to Clawdia Chauchat, who, as he had known, was standing not far from the doorman in the little drawing-room, and from there smiling at the goings-on at the bowling table had watched.
Behind him he heard euphonious foreign words: ” Eh! enemies! Aspetti! Che cosa fa! enemies! Un po di raggione, sa! Ma è matto questo ragazzo! ‘ But he drowned that voice with his own, and so you saw Mr. Settembrini, one hand thrown over his head with his arm spread – a gesture customary in his homeland, the meaning of which it would not be easy to put into words, and that of a long drawn-out one ” Ehh-! “ was accompanied – left the carnival community. – But Hans Castorp stood in the clinker courtyard, looked closely into the blue-grey-green Epicanthus eyes over the protruding cheekbones and said:
” Don’t you have a pencil?”
He was deathly pale, as pale as he had been when he had come to the conference, covered in blood, from his solitary walk. The vascular nerve conduction to his face played with the result that the bleeding skin of this young face sagged pale and cold, the nose appeared pointed and the area under the eyes looked as lead-colored as that of a corpse. But the sympathetic nervous system left Hans Castorp’s heart in one gaitdrumming so that one could no longer speak of regulated breathing, and shivers ran over the young person as a result of the ointment glands on his body standing up together with their hair follicles.
The one in the paper cocked hat looked him up and down with a smile that showed no pity, no concern at the devastation on his face. This sex does not know such pity and such anxiety about the terrors of passion, – an element evidently much more familiar to him than to the man, who by nature is by no means at home in it and whom it never greets without mockery and malicious joy. Incidentally, he would of course also thank you for your pity and concern.
“Me?” answered the bare-armed patient to the “you” … “Yes, maybe”. And at most in her smile and her voice there was something of the excitement that occurs when the first address falls after a long, silent relationship – a cunning excitement that secretly incorporates everything that has gone before into the moment. “You’re very ambitious… You’re… very… eager,” she continued, in her exotic pronunciation of strange r and strange, too overtly mocking e, her slightly muffled, pleasantly hoarse voice punctuating the word ” ambitious” also emphasized on the second syllable, so that it sounded completely foreign, – and rummaged in her leather purse, looked inside and pulled out a small silver crayon, thin and fragile, from under a handkerchief, which she first brought to light fancy dress, hardly usable for serious work. The pencil of that time, the first, had been more handy and upright.
” Voilà ,” she said, holding the pen in front of his eyes, holding it at the tip between her thumb and forefinger and gently waving it back and forth.
Since she gave it to him and withheld it from him at the same time, he took it without receiving it, that is, holding his hand at the level of the pencil, close to it, fingers ready to grasp but not quite grasping, and stared out of his leaden eye sockets alternately on the object and in Clawdia’s Tatar face. His bloodless lips parted and they stayed that way, not using them to speak as he said:
“You see, I knew you would have one.”
” Prenez garde, il est un peu fragile ,” she said. ” C’est à visser, tu sais. “
And bowing their heads over it, she showed him the usual mechanics of the pencil, from which a needle-thin, probably hard, non-shedding graphite stick fell when the screw was opened.
They stood leaning close to each other. Tonight, being in formal suit, he wore a stiff collar and was able to rest his chin on it.
“Small, but yours,” he said, forehead to forehead with her, down to the pen, lips still and consequently dropping the labial sound.
“Oh, you’re funny too,” she answered with a short laugh, straightening up and now leaving the crayon to him. (By the way, God knows what he was being witty about, since he obviously didn’t have a drop of blood in his head.) “So go, hurry up, draw, draw well, distinguish yourself!” Funny on her part too, she seemed to drive him away.
“No, you haven’t drawn yet. You must draw,” he said, dropping the m from “must,” and took a step back in a pulling manner.
“Me?” she repeated again, with an astonishment that seemed to apply to something other than his demand. Smiling in a certain confusion, she remained standing, but then followed his magnetizing backwards movement a few steps towards the bowling table.
It turned out, however, that the conversation no longer lasted there, was on its last legs. Someone was still drawing, but had no more spectators. The cards were covered with nonsense, everyone had tried their hand at impotence, the table was almost deserted, especially since a countercurrent had set in. When one became aware that the doctors had gone, the order to dance suddenly went up. The table was already being dragged aside. Scouts were posted at the doors of the writing and piano rooms, with instructions to make a signal to stop the ball if, for example, “the old man”, Krokowski or the matron should show themselves again. A young Slavic man gripped the keyboard of the small walnut upright with an expression. The first couples turned inside an irregular circle of armchairs and chairs,
Hans Castorp waved goodbye to the table that had just floated away: “Go there!” With his chin he then pointed to free seating, which he noticed in the small salon, and to the protected corner of the room to the right of the porter. He didn’t say anything, maybe because the music was too loud for him. He pulled out a chair – it was a so-called triumph chair, with a wooden frame and a plush covering— for Mrs. Chauchat to the spot he had previously pantomimed, and appropriated for himself a crackling, cracking wicker chair with rolled-up armrests, on which he sat by her, leaning forward against her, arms on the backs, her crayon in hands, feet well under the chair. She, for her part, lay far too low in the plush sling, her knees were raised, but she crossed one over the other anyway and let her foot bob up and down, the ankle of which was spanned over the edge of the black patent-leather shoe by the black silk of the stocking. In front of them other people sat, got up to dance and gave way to those who were tired. It was a coming and going.
“You have a new dress,” he said to be allowed to look at her, and heard her answer:
“New? You’re adept at my toilet?”
“Am I not right?”
“But. I recently had it done here, at Lukaček’s in the village. He works a lot for ladies up here. You like it?”
“Very good,” he said, locking his gaze once more and then dropping it. “Want to dance?” he added.
“Would you like to?” she asked, smiling in return, raising her eyebrows, and he replied:
“I’d do it if you wanted to.”
“That’s less good than I thought you were,” she said, and when he gave a dismissive laugh she added, “Your cousin’s already gone.”
“Yes, he’s my cousin,” he confirmed unnecessarily. “I saw earlier that he’s gone. He will have settled down.”
” C’est un jeune homme très étroit, très honnête, très allemand. “
” Etroit? Honnete? he repeated. “I understand French better than I speak it. You’re saying he’s pedantic. Do you think we Germans are pedantic – nous autres allemands ?”
” Nous causes de votre cousin. Mais c’est vrai , you are a bit bourgeois. Vous aimez l’ordre mieux que la liberté, toute l’Europe le sait. “
” Aimer… aimer… Qu’est-ce que c’est! Ça manque de definition, ce mot-là. One has it, the other loves it, comme nous disons proverbialement ,” asserted Hans Castorp. “I’ve been thinking about freedom a few times lately,” he continued. That said, I heard the word so many times, and that’s how I thought about it. Je te le dirai en français what I thought. Ce que toute l’Europe nomme la liberté, est peut-être une chose assez pédante et assez bourgeoise en comparaison de notre besoin d’ordre – c’est ça! “
” Tiens! C’est amusing. C’est ton cousin à qui tu penses en disant des choses étranges comme ça? “
“No, c’est vraiment une bonne âme , a simple, unthreatened nature, tu sais. Mais il n’est pas bourgeois, il est militaire. “
“Unthreatened?” she repeated with difficulty… ” Tu veux dire: une nature tout à fait ferme, sûre d’elle-même? Mais il est sérieusement malade, ton pauvre cousin. “
“Who said that?”
“People know each other here.”
“Did Hofrat Behrens tell you that?”
” Peut-être en me faisant voir ses tableaux. “
“ C’est-à-dire: en faisant ton portrait! “
” Pourquoi pas. Tu l’as trouvé réussi, mon portrait? “
” Mais oui, extremely. Behrens a très exactement rendu ta peau, oh vraiment très fidèlement. J’aimerais beaucoup être portraitiste, moi aussi, pour avoir l’occasion d’étudier ta peau comme lui. “
” Parlez allemand, s’il vous plaît! “
“Oh, I speak German, also in French. C’est une sorte d’étude artistique et medicale – en un mot: il s’agit des lettres humaines, tu comprends. How is it now, don’t you want to dance?”
“But no, that’s childish. En cachette des medicines. Aussitôt que Behrens reviendra, tout le monde va se précipiter sur les chaises. Ce sera fort ridicule. “
“Do you have that much respect for him?”
“To whom?” she said, making the question word short and strange.
“Before Behrens.”
” Mais va donc avec ton Behrens! It’s also way too narrow for dancing. Et puis sur le tapis … Let’s watch the dance.”
“Yes, we want that,” he agreed, looking beside her, with his pale face, with his grandfather’s blue, reflective eyes, at the pacing of the masked patients here in the drawing room and over in the study. Then the mute sister hopped around with Blue Heinrich, and Frau Salomon, who was dressed as the host of the ball, in tails and a white waistcoat, with a high arched shirtfront, painted mustache and monocle, turned around on little patent-leather heeled shoes.emerging unnaturally from their men’s black trousers, with the Pierrot, whose lips gleamed crimson in his whitened face, and whose eyes resembled those of an albino rabbit. The Greek in the little coat swung the proportions of his purple jersey legs around the low-cut and darkly glittering Rasmussen; the prosecutor in kimono, the Consul General Wurmbrand and the young goose even danced three of them themselves, holding each other’s arms; and as for Stohr, she danced with her broom, which she pressed to her heart and whose bristles she caressed as if they had been a man’s standing hair.
“We want that,” repeated Hans Castorp mechanically. They spoke softly, under the notes of the piano. “We want to sit here and watch as if in a dream. It’s like a dream for me, you must know that we sit like this – comme un rêve singulièrement profond, car il faut dormir très profondément pour rêver comme cela … Je veux dire: C’est un rêve bien connu, rêvé de all temps, long, éternel, oui, être assis près de toi comme à present, voilà l’éternité. “
” Poets! ” she said. ” Bourgeois, humaniste et poète, – voilà l’allemand au complete, comme il faut! “
” Je crains, que nous ne soyons pas du tout et nullement comme il faut, ” he replied. ” Sous aucun egard. Nous sommes peut-être of life’s problem children, tout simplement .”
” Joli mot. Dis-moi donc … Il n’aurait pas été fort difficile de rêver ce rêve-là plus tôt. C’est un peu tard, que monsieur se résout d’adresser la parole à son humble servante. “
” Pourquoi des paroles? ” he said. ” Pourquoi parler? Parler, discourir, c’est une chose bien républicaine, je le concede. Mais je doute, que ce soit poétique au meme degré. Un de nos pensionnaires, qui est un peu devenu mon ami, M. Settembrini… ”
” Il vient de te lancer quelques paroles. “
” Eh bien, c’est un grand parleur sans doute, il aime meme beaucoup à réciter de beaux verse, – mais est-ce un poète, cet homme-là? “
” Je regrette sincèrement de n’avoir jamais eu le plaisir de faire la connaissance de ce chevalier. “
” Je le crois bien. “
” Ah! Tu le crois. “
” Comment? C’était une phrase tout-à-fait indifférente, ce que j’ai dit là. Moi, tu le remarques bien, je ne parle guère le français. Pourtant, avec toi je préfère cette langue à la mienne, car pour moi, parler français, c’est parler sans parler, en quelque manière, – sans responsabilité, ou comme nous parlons en rêve. Do you comprends? “
” A peu pres. “
” Ça suffit … Parler “, continued Hans Castorp, ” – pauvre affaire! Dans l’éternité, on a parle point. Dans l’éternité, tu sais, on fait comme en dessinant un petit cochon: on penche la tête en arrière et on ferme les yeux. “
” Pas mal, ça! Do it chez toi dans l’éternité, sans aucun doute, tu la connais à fond. Il faut avouer, que tu es un petit rêveur assez curieux. “
” Et puis “, said Hans Castorp, ” si je t’avais parlé plus tôt, il m’aurait fallu te dire »vous«! “
” Eh bien, est-ce que tu as l’intention de me tutoyer pour toujours? “
” Corn oui. Je t’ai tutoyée de all temps et je te tutoierai éternellement. “
” C’est un peu fort, par example. En all cas tu n’auras pas trop longtemps l’occasion de me dire »tu«. Je vais partir. “
It took a while for the word to sink in. Then he started up, looking around confusedly, like someone disturbed from his sleep. Their conversation had been rather slow, as Hans Castorp spoke French heavily and as if hesitantly. The piano, which had been silent for a short time, sounded again, now in the hands of the man from Mannheim, who had relieved the Slav youth and put on music. Fraulein Engelhart sat with him and turned the pages. The ball had cleared. A larger number of pensioners seemed to have assumed a horizontal position. Nobody was sitting in front of them anymore. They played cards in the reading room.
“What are you doing?” asked Hans Castorp, dumbfounded…
“I’m leaving,” she repeated, smiling in apparent surprise at his freezing.
“Not possible,” he said. “It’s just a joke.”
“Not at all. I’m totally serious. I travel.”
“When?”
“But tomorrow. Après dinner. “
A major collapse occurred in it. He said:
“Where?”
“Very far away.”
“To Daghestan?”
” Do n’es pas mal instruct. Peut-être, pour le moment… ”
“Are you healed?”
” Quant à ça … non. But Behrens thinks there isn’t much I can achieve here for the time being. C’est pourquoi je vais risquer un petit changement d’air. “
“So you’re coming back!”
“That begs the question. The main question is when. Quant à moi, tu sais, j’aime la liberté avant tout et notamment celle de choisir mon domicile. Tu ne comprends guère ce que c’est: être obsédé d’indépendance. C’est de ma race, peut-être. “
” Et ton mari au Daghestan te l’accorde, – ta liberté? “
” C’est la maladie qui me la rend. Me voilà à cet endroit pour la troisième fois. J’ai passé un an ici, cette fois. Possible que je revienne. Mais alors tu seras bien loin depuis longtemps. “
“Do you think so, Clawdia?”
” Mon prénom aussi! Prepare yourself for the series of events of the carnival! “
“Do you know how sick I am?”
” Oui – non – comme on sait ces choses ici. Tu as une petite tache humide là dedans et un peu de fièvre, n’est-ce pas? “
” Trente-sept et huit ou neuf l’après-midi ,” said Hans Castorp. “And you?”
” Oh, mon cas, tu sais, c’est un peu plus compliqué … pas tout-à-fait simple. “
” Il ya quelque chose dans cette branche de lettres humaines dite la médecine ,” said Hans Castorp, ” qu’on appelle bouchement tuberculeux des vases de lymphe. “
” Ah! Tu as mouchardé, mon cher, on le voit bien. “
” Et toi… Forgive me! Now let me ask you something, ask you something urgently and in German! That time when I went from Tische to the check-up, six months ago… You looked around at me, remember?”
” Source question? Il ya six mois! “
“Did you know where I was going?”
” Certes, c’était tout-à-fait par hasard… “
“You knew it from Behrens?”
” Toujours ce Behrens! “
” Oh, il a représenté ta peau d’une façon tellement exacte … D’ailleurs, c’est un veuf aux joues ardentes et qui possède un service à café très remarquable … Je crois bien qu’il connaît ton corps non seulement comme medical, mais also comme adept d’une autre discipline de lettres humaines. “
” Tu as décidément raison de dire, que tu parles en rêve, mon ami. “
” Soit … Laisse-moi rêver de nouveau après m’avoir réveillé si cruellement par cette cloche d’alarme de ton départ. Sept mois sous tes yeux … Et à present, où en réalité j’ai fait ta connaissance, tu me parles de départ! “
” Je te répète, que nous aurions pu causer plus tot. “
“You would have wished it?”
” Moi? Tu ne m’échapperas pas, mon petit. Il s’agit de tes interêts, à toi. Est-ce que tu étais trop timide pour t’approcher d’une femme à qui tu parles en rêve maintenant, ou est-ce qu’il y avait quelqu’un qui t’en a empêché? “
” Je te l’ai dit. Je ne voulais paste dire »vous«. “
” Farceur. Réponds donc, – ce monsieur beau parleur,cet italy-là qui a quitté la soirée, – qu’est-ce qu’il t’a lancé tantôt? “
” Je n’en ai entendu absolute rien. Je me soucie très peu de ce monsieur, quand mes yeux te voient. Mais tu oublies … il n’aurait pas été si facile du tout de faire ta connaissance dans le monde. Il y avait encore mon cousin avec qui j’étais lié et qui incline très peu à s’amuser ici: Il ne pense à rien qu’à son retour dans les plaines, pour se faire soldat. “
” Pauvre diable. Il est, en effet, plus malade qu’il ne sait. Ton ami italy du reste ne va pas trop bien non plus. “
” Il le dit lui-même. Mais mon cousin … Est-ce vrai? Tu me’efraies. “
” Fort possible qu’il va mourir, s’il essaye d’être soldat dans les plaines. “
” Qu’il va mourir. La mort. Terrible mot, n’est-ce pas? Mais c’est étrange, il ne m’impressionne pastelement aujourd’hui, ce mot. C’était une façon de parler bien conventionnelle, lorsque je disais »Tu m’effraies«. L’idée de la mort ne m’effraie pas. Elle me laisse tranquille. Je n’ai pas pitié – ni de mon bon Joachim ni de moi-même, en entendant qu’il va peut-être mourir. Si c’est vrai, son état ressemble beaucoup au mien et je ne le trouve pas particulièrement imposant. Il est moribond, et moi, je suis amoureux, eh bien! – Tu as parlé à mon cousin à l’atelier de photographie intime, dans l’antichambre, tu te souviens. “
” Je me souviens un peu. “
” Donc ce jour-là Behrens a fait ton portrait transparent! “
” Mon dieu. Et l’as-tu sur toi? “
” No, je l’ai dans ma chambre. “
” Ah, in the room. Quant au mien, je l’ai toujours dans mon portfolio. Veux-tu que je te le fasse voir? “
” Mille remerciements. Ma curiosité n’est pas invincible. Ce sera un aspect très innocent. “
“ Moi, j’ai vu ton portrait extérieur. J’aimerais beaucoup mieux voir ton portrait intérieur qui est enfermé dans ta chambre … Laisse-moi other autre chose! Parfois un monsieur russe qui loge en ville vient te voir. Qui est-ce? Dans quel but vient-il, cet homme? “
” Tu it joliment fort en espionnage, je l’avoue. Eh bien, je réponds. Oui, c’est un compatriote souffrant, un ami. J’ai fait sa connaissance à une autre station balnéaire, il ya quelques années déjà. No’s relations? Les voilà: nous prenons notre thé ensemble, nous fumons deux ou trois papiros, et nous bavardons, nous philosophons, nous parlons de l’homme, de Dieu, de la vie, de la morale, de mille choses. Voilà mon compte rendu. Es-tu satisfait? “
” De la morale also! Et qu’est-ce que vous avez trouvé en fait de morale, par example? “
” La morale? Are you interested? Eh bien, il nous semble, qu’il faudrait chercher la morale non dans la vertu, c’est-à-dire dans la raison, la discipline, les bonnes mœurs, l’honnêteté, – mais plutôt dans le contraire, je veux dire: dans le péché, en s’abandonnant au danger, à ce qui est nuisible, à ce qui nous consume. Il nous semble qu’il est plus moral de se perdre et meme de se laisser dépérirque de se conserver. Les grands moralistes n’étaient point des vertueux, mais des aventuriers dans le mal, des vicieux, des grands pécheurs qui nous enseignent à nous incliner chrétiennement devant la misère. Tout ça doit te déplaire beaucoup, n’est-ce pas? “
He stayed silent. He was still sitting as before, his intertwined feet deep under his crackling chair, leaning forward towards the reclining woman in the paper cocked hat, her crayon between his fingers, and looking out of Hans Lorenz Castorp’s blue eyes from downstairs into the room, which had become empty. Destroyed the guests. The piano, in the diagonally opposite corner, only sounded softly and broken off, played with one hand by the Mannheim patient, at whose side the teacher sat leafing through a music book that she held on her knees. When the conversation between Hans Castorp and Clawdia Chauchat fell silent, the pianist stopped playing altogether and put the hand with which he had been gently touching the keys on his lap, while Fraulein Engelhart continued to look at her music. The four people left over from the carnival party sat motionless. The silence lasted several minutes. Slowly, under her pressure, the couple’s heads bent lower and lower at the piano, the Mannheimer’s towards the keyboard, Fraulein Engelhart’s towards the music book. Finally, both at the same time, as if by secret agreement, they got up cautiously, and quietly, on tiptoe, artificially avoiding looking around for the other corner of the room that was still busy, heads ducked and arms stiff about their body, the Mannheimer disappeared and the teacher together through the writing and reading room. that of the Mannheimer down towards the keyboard, that of Miss Engelhart towards the music book. Finally, both at the same time, as if by secret agreement, they got up cautiously, and quietly, on tiptoe, artificially avoiding looking around for the other corner of the room that was still busy, heads ducked and arms stiff about their body, the Mannheimer disappeared and the teacher together through the writing and reading room. that of the Mannheimer down towards the keyboard, that of Miss Engelhart towards the music book. Finally, both at the same time, as if by secret agreement, they got up cautiously, and quietly, on tiptoe, artificially avoiding looking around for the other corner of the room that was still busy, heads ducked and arms stiff about their body, the Mannheimer disappeared and the teacher together through the writing and reading room.” Tout le monde se retire ,” said Ms. Chauchat. “ C’étaient les derniers; il se fait tard. Eh bien, la fête de carnaval est finie. ‘ And she lifted her arms to take with both hands the paper cap from her reddish hair, whose plait was tied in a wreath around her head. ” Vous connaissez les conséquences, monsieur. “
But Hans Castorp said no with his eyes closed, without otherwise changing his position. He answered:
” Jamais, Clawdia. Jamais je te dirai »vous«, jamais de la vie ni de la mort , if you can say that – you should be able to. Cette forme de s’adresser à une personne, qui est celle de l’Occident cultivé et de la civilization humanitaire, me semble fort bourgeoise et pédante. Pourquoi, au fond, de la forme? La forme, c’est la pedanterie elle-même! Tout ce que vous avez fixé à l’égard de la morale, toi et ton compatriote souffrant, – tu veux sérieusement que ça me surprenne? Pour quel sot me prends-tu? Dis donc, qu’est-ce que tu penses de moi? “
” C’est un sujet qui ne donne pas beaucoup à penser. Tu es un petit bonhomme convenable, de bonne famille, d’une tenue appétissante, disciple docile de ses précepteurs et qui retournera bientôt dans les plaines, pour oublier complètement qu’il a jamais parlé en rêve ici et pour aider à rendre son pays grand et puissant par son travail honnête sur le chantier. Voilà ta photographie intimate, faite sans appareil. Tu la trouves exacte, j’espere? “
” Il y manque quelques details que Behrens ya trouvés. “
” Ah, les médecins en trouvent toujours, ils s’y connaissent… “
” Tu parles comme M. Settembrini. Et ma fièvre? Dou vient-elle? “
“ Allons donc, c’est un incident sans conséquence qui passera vite. “
” Non, Clawdia, tu sais bien que ce que tu dis là n’est pas vrai et tu le dis sans conviction, j’en suis sûr. La fièvre de mon corps et le battement de mon cœur harassé et le frissonnement de mes membres, c’est le contraire d’un incident, car ce n’est rien d’autre—’ and his pale face, with twitching lips, bowed deeper to hers – “ rien d’autre que mon amour pour toi, oui, cet amour qui m’a saisi à l’instant, où mes yeux t’ont vue, ou, plutôt, que j’ai reconnu, quand je t’ai reconnue toi, – et c’était lui, évidemment, qui m’a mené à cet endroit … “
” Source foil! “
” Oh, l’amour n’est rien, s’il n’est pas de la folie, une chose insensée, défendue et une aventure dans le mal. Autrement c’est une banalité agreeable, bonne pour en faire de petites chansons paisibles dans les plaines. Mais quant à ce que je t’ai reconnue et que j’ai reconnu mon amour pour toi, – oui, c’est vrai, je t’ai déjà connue, anciennement, toi et tes yeux merveilleusement obliques et ta bouche et ta voix , avec laquelle tu parles, – une fois déjà, lorsque j’étais collégien, je t’ai demandé ton crayon, pour faire enfin ta connaissance mondaine, because je t’aimais irraisonnablement, et c’est de là, sans doute, c’est de mon ancien amour pour toi, que ces marques me restent que Behrens a trouvées dans mon corps, et qui indiquent que jadis aussi j’étais malade … “
His teeth chattered. He had pulled one foot out from under his crackling chair while he was fantasizing, and as he pushed it forward, that foot, his other knee was already touching the floor, so that he was kneeling beside her, his head bowed and his whole body trembling . ” Je t’aime ,” he slurred, ” je t’ai aimée de tout temps, car tu es le Toi de ma vie, mon rêve, mon sort, mon envie, mon éternel désir… “
” Allons, allons! ” she said. ” Sites précepteurs te voyaient… “
But he shook his head desperately, face across the carpet, and replied:
” Je m’en ficherais, je me fiche de tous ces Carducci et de la République éloquente et du progrès humain dans le temps, car je t’aime! “
She lightly stroked the close-cropped hair at the back of his head with her hand.
” Pet bourgeois! ” she said. ” Joli bourgeois a la petite tache humide. Est-ce vrai que tu m’aimes tant? “
And delighted by her touch, now on both knees, head back and eyes closed, he continued to speak:
” Oh, l’amour, tu sais… Le corps, l’amour, la mort, ces trois ne font qu’un.” Car le corps, c’est la maladie et la volupté, et c’est lui qui fait la mort, oui, ils sont charnels tous deux, l’amour et la mort, et voilà leur terreur et leur grande magie! Mais la mort, tu comprends, c’est d’une part une chose mal famée, impudente qui fait rougir de honte; et d’autre part c’est une puissance très solennelle et très majestueuse, – beaucoup plus haute que lavie riante gagnant de la monnaie et farcissant sa panse, – beaucoup plus vénérable que le progrès qui bavarde par les temps, – parce qu’elle est l’histoire et la noblesse et la piété et l’éternel et le sacré qui nous fait tirer le chapeau et marcher sur la pointe des pieds … Or, de même, le corps, lui aussi, et l’amour du corps, sont une affaire indécente et fâcheuse, et le corps rougit et pâlit à sa surface par frayeur et honte de lui-même. Mais also il est une grande gloire adorable, image miraculeuse de la vie organique, sainte merveille de la forme et de la beauté, et l’amour pour lui, pour le corps humain, c’est de même un intérêt extrêmement humanitaire et une puissance plus educational que toute la pedagogie du monde! … Oh, enchantante beauté organique qui ne se compose ni de teinture à l’huile ni de pierre, mais de matière vivante et corruptible, pleine du secret febrile de la vie et de la pourriture! Regarde the symétrie merveilleuse de l’édifice humain, les épaules et les hanches et les mamelons fleurissants de part et d’autre sur la poitrine, et les côtes arrangées par paires, et le nombril au milieu dans la mollesse du ventre, et le sexe Obscur between the cuisses! Regarde les omoplates se remuer sous la peau soyeuse du dos, et l’échine qui descend vers la luxuriance double et fraîche des fesses, et les grandes branches des vases et des nerfs qui suitable du tronc aux rameaux par les aisselles, et comme la structure des bras correspond to celle des jambes. Oh, les douces regions de la jointure intérieure du coude et du jarret avec leur abondance de délicatesses organiques sous leurs coussins de chair! Source immense de les caresser ces endroits delicieux de corps humain! Fete a mourir sansplain après! Oui, mon dieu, laissez-moi sentir l’odeur de la peau de ta rotule, sous laquelle l’ingénieuse capsule articulaire secrete son huile glissante! Laisse-moi toucher devotement de ma bouche l’Arteria femoralis qui bat au front de ta cuisse et qui se divise plus bas en les deux artères du tibia! Laisse-moi ressentir l’exhalation de tes pores et tâter ton duvet, image humaine d’eau et d’albumine, destinée pour l’anatomie du tombeau, et laissez-moi périr, mes lèvres aux tiennes! “
He did not open his eyes after speaking; he remained as he was, head thrown back, hands stretched out with the silver pen, shaking and swaying on his knees. She said:
” Tu es en effet un gallant qui sait solliciter d’une manière profonde, à l’allemande. “
And she put the paper cap on his head.
” Adieu, mon prince Carnaval! Vous aurez une mauvaise ligne de fièvre ce soir, je vous le predis. “
With that she slid off the chair, slid across the carpet to the door, where she hesitated, half-turned backwards, one bare arm raised, hand on the hinge. Over her shoulder she said softly:
“ N’oubliez pas de me rendre mon crayon. “
And stepped out.