The apparition did not remain.<\/p>\n
She walked on, grew smaller, finally disappeared behind a sunshade, behind a row of loungers, behind the orderly geometry of the beach. And with that, for a reasonable person, the matter could have been settled: seen a beauty, had a moment, move on.<\/p>\n
But Gustav von A. was not a reasonable person.<\/p>\n
He took his notebook.<\/p>\n
He wrote.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp could not see what he was writing; but he could see how he was writing: fast, dense, as if he had to hold on to something that was slipping away from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2026\u201d Hans Castorp began.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d said Gustav.<\/p>\n
A single word.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp fell silent.<\/p>\n
He looked at Gustav.<\/p>\n
And now he noticed that Gustav looked different.<\/p>\n
Not masked \u2013 he was that anyway \u2013 but\u2026 affected. There was a dull moisture on his forehead, a sheen that was not cosmetics. His lips were, beneath the sheen, a little too pale. His hand holding the pen trembled almost imperceptibly.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt a sentence come into his head that was not from Dr. Porsche, not from AuDHS, not from Zieser, but from something older, darker:<\/p>\n
The body takes what it wants.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you\u2026\u201d Hans began.<\/p>\n
Gustav kept writing.<\/p>\n
Then he paused briefly, laid the pen on the paper as if he had to park it there, and said quietly:<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp exhaled.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked at him.<\/p>\n
There was a nuance of annoyance in this look.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want to\u2026\u201d Gustav searched for a word, and one could tell that, despite everything, he still wanted to keep control. \u201c\u2026get medical?\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp smiled, although he did not feel like smiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been medical for months,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Gustav twisted his mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are\u2026 optimized,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt how the sentence hurt him because it was true.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked back at the water.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m busy,\u201d he said again.<\/p>\n
Then he stood up.<\/p>\n
He did not stand up easily. It was as if he had to lift himself out of the deck chair as out of a situation.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere to?\u201d asked Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav made a small, indeterminate hand movement.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalking,\u201d he said. \u201cThat helps.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp thought: Walking helps against everything. It is the universal bourgeois trick.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll come with you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Gustav nodded without turning around.<\/p>\n
They walked.<\/p>\n
The sand was soft. The air had grown heavier. You could feel how the day pressed into your own skin.<\/p>\n
Gustav walked quickly at first, then more slowly.<\/p>\n
He stopped, looked at the water.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp saw, from up close, that the color at the shore was not just light. It was, how shall one say, a discoloration, a veil that mixed into the movement. Red was saying too much \u2013 and yet, at a certain angle, it was a red.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe water\u2026\u201d Hans began.<\/p>\n
Gustav said:<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t look at it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d<\/p>\n
Gustav looked at him, and now there was, in his gaze, something that Hans had not expected: fear. Not the loud, not the panicked kind; but the quiet kind that is ashamed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you look,\u201d Gustav said softly, \u201cyou have to act.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt the sentence hit him in the stomach.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if we act?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Gustav lowered his gaze.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen we have to leave,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp was silent.<\/p>\n
It was, esteemed female reader, esteemed male reader, a moment of terrifying clarity: it is not disgust at illness that often keeps people in place; it is the fear of the end of a desire.<\/p>\n
Gustav raised his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not leaving,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
It was not defiance. It was a judgment.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt his system two kick in, that slow thinking that takes effort. He felt his head trying to do a calculation that did not add up: friendship, risk, duty, beauty, sentence.<\/p>\n
\u201cGustav,\u201d he said, and it was the first time he said the name without \u201cvon A.\u201d, as if the noble particle had suddenly become incidental.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cLeave me,\u201d he said. And then, as if he himself were surprised by his harshness, he added, more softly: \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp nodded.<\/p>\n
He nodded because he stayed.<\/p>\n