In the breakfast room sat Gustav von A.<\/p>\n
He did not sit by the window, because he was not the kind of man who needed a view; he sat at a table positioned so that he could see who came in. Control is also a form of aesthetics, and Gustav, like all creators who have made a name for themselves, had a special relationship with control: it is what you need to turn inner chaos into form.<\/p>\n
He looked up when Hans came, and smiled.<\/p>\n
The smile was, as so often with him, not warm, but correct \u2013 and precisely for that reason it had something touching about it. For correctness is often only the form in which people hide their tenderness when they are ashamed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are early,\u201d said Gustav.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp sat down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d he began, and realized how unedifying it was, in a city that lives from beauty, to talk about sleep.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked at the ring on Hans\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe little spy,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp looked at his hand as if he had forgotten that it was there.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt said,\u201d said Hans, and one could hear how ridiculous it is to say that, \u201cthat my REM\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Gustav raised his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cSpare me that,\u201d he said, and it did not sound harsh, but tired. \u201cVenice is not the place for metrics. Venice is the place for\u2026\u201d He paused briefly, searched for a word, and one could see how he, the man of words, suddenly became at a loss. \u201c\u2026for mistakes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp was silent.<\/p>\n
The waiter set down coffee, set down something sweet, set down water. The water in the glass looked clear. Too clear. As if it had to prove itself.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you heard it?\u201d Hans finally asked.<\/p>\n
Gustav raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly?\u201d he asked, as if he already knew and only wanted to make Hans say it. That is a form of pedagogy that writers often possess: they let others speak the truth so as not to be guilty themselves.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe recommendation,\u201d said Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh,\u201d he said. \u201cThe recommendation.\u201d<\/p>\n
He spoke the word like an old acquaintance.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey recommend leaving the city,\u201d said Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav stirred his coffee as if that were the most harmless news in the world.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey recommend many things,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the red\u2026,\u201d said Hans, and felt himself slipping into a tone he knew from Dr. AuDHS: the tone in which one arranges things in order not to feel. \u201cThe red water. They say\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Gustav looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWater is everything today,\u201d he said. \u201cYou can give it any color. You can make it green so that it is idyllic. You can make it blue so that it fits on displays. You can make it red so that it seems dramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you think it is theater?\u201d asked Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything is theater,\u201d he said. \u201cOnly the sets change.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp heard it, and he felt \u2013 and that was the Tonio-sting that was working ever deeper in him \u2013 how there was a longing in this sentence: the longing that, if everything is theater anyway, one might at least play the role well. Tonio Kr\u00f6ger, had he been sitting beside them, might have smiled and thought: The artist despises the bourgeoisie, and he envies it. And the bourgeois envies the artist, and he despises him. They are twins.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to leave,\u201d said Hans suddenly.<\/p>\n
It was a short sentence. A stab.<\/p>\n
Gustav paused.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course you want to leave,\u201d he said softly. \u201cYou are a man who has learned to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt the word \u201cdeserter\u201d flash through his mind, and he hated it, because it is not only an accusation, but also the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked into his coffee.<\/p>\n
\u201cI will stay,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp gave a short laugh, but it was not a laugh, more a sound.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d he asked. \u201cWhat for?\u201d<\/p>\n
Gustav raised his gaze.<\/p>\n
And now, esteemed reader, dear reader, one saw something that one rarely sees in him: not a mask, not correctness, not ironic distance, but a small crack through which something dark looked out.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I must,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMust?\u201d Hans repeated the word as if it were a diagnosis.<\/p>\n
Gustav nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have heard it,\u201d he said. \u201cTonio. The creator. If I do not create, I am\u2026\u201d He left the sentence unfinished, as if he could not utter the word without making it come true.<\/p>\n
\u201cA human being,\u201d said Hans softly.<\/p>\n
Gustav smiled, and this smile was bitter.<\/p>\n
\u201cA human being,\u201d he repeated. \u201cYes. And that is exactly the problem.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp was silent.<\/p>\n
For he understood \u2013 not as a concept, but as a feeling \u2013 that Gustav von A. was not running away from an illness, but from ordinary mortality. And that by staying, he imagined he could bribe death with beauty.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey recommend that you leave,\u201d said Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav leaned back.<\/p>\n
\u201cRecommendations,\u201d he said, \u201care the gentlest form of command. But commands are valid only if one obeys them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if one does not obey?\u201d asked Hans.<\/p>\n
Gustav looked toward the window, as if he saw not water out there, but a figure.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen,\u201d he said softly, \u201cone receives one\u2019s punishment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt a chill, although it was warm.<\/p>\n
He thought of the tiger.<\/p>\n
He thought of the donkey.<\/p>\n
He thought of the lion who says: If you believe it is blue, then let it be blue \u2013 and yet means something quite different.<\/p>\n
And he thought, without knowing it, that in this moment he was hearing the lion.<\/p>\n
Not outside. Inside.<\/p>\n
Within himself.<\/p>\n