In the morning the water outside was smooth.<\/p>\n
The lagoon lay there as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n
That is, esteemed female reader, esteemed male reader, the greatest affront of death: that the world does not die along with it.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp stood at the window.<\/p>\n
He had not slept. He had sat, watched, waited; and at some point a man had come, had spoken softly, politely, in a service-like manner; at some point they had taken Gustav away, as discreetly as if he were a piece of luggage.<\/p>\n
They had offered Hans Castorp condolences.<\/p>\n
They had offered him water.<\/p>\n
Recommended it.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp had nodded.<\/p>\n
Now he stood there.<\/p>\n
He took his notebook.<\/p>\n
Not Gustav\u2019s. His own.<\/p>\n
He sat down at the table.<\/p>\n
He took off the ring.<\/p>\n
He put it down next to the glass, and the glass was empty.<\/p>\n
He took the pen.<\/p>\n
He wrote.<\/p>\n
Not values. Not pulse. Not steps.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
The water was rosy this morning.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
It is recommended not to drink.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
Recommendation is the polite form of truth.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
A creator stays because he believes that the sentence will save him.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
One who remains stays because he cannot leave.<\/p>\n
He wrote:<\/p>\n
And yet leaving is sometimes the only hygiene.<\/p>\n
He paused.<\/p>\n
He looked at the sentences.<\/p>\n
They were not beautiful.<\/p>\n
They were not dapper.<\/p>\n
They were true.<\/p>\n
He heard the water outside.<\/p>\n
It sounded as always.<\/p>\n
He felt something hurting in his chest \u2013 not like illness, not like blood pressure, not like vascular stiffness; but like loss.<\/p>\n
He stood up.<\/p>\n
He stepped to the window.<\/p>\n
Outside, in the light, the lagoon shimmered reddish in one place, because the sky still carried a remnant of red.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp saw it.<\/p>\n
And he thought, very slowly, deliberately, system two:<\/p>\n
You cannot desert time.<\/p>\n
You can only \u2013 for an evening, for a night, for a program \u2013 get it to pretend that it is not there.<\/p>\n
Then it is there again.<\/p>\n
He took the ring.<\/p>\n
He held it in his hand.<\/p>\n
He felt its weight, so small, so ridiculous.<\/p>\n
He did not put it on.<\/p>\n
That is perhaps, esteemed female reader, esteemed male reader, the first real progress that Hans Castorp has made.<\/p>\n
He remained standing for a moment longer, looking at the water.<\/p>\n
And thought: It is red.<\/p>\n
Then he turned around.<\/p>\n
He left.<\/p>\n