After looking to his supply of cigars Hans Castorp took coat and stick, also, rather defiantly, his hat⁠—he was far too sure of himself and his station in life to alter his ways and acquire new ones for a mere three weeks’ visit⁠—and they went out and down the steps. In the corridor Joachim pointed to this and that door and gave the names of the occupants⁠—there were German names, but also all sorts of foreign ones⁠—with brief comments on them and the seriousness of their cases.

They met people already coming back from breakfast, and when Joachim said good morning, Hans Castorp courteously lifted his hat. He was tense and nervous, as a young man is when about to present himself before strangers⁠—when, that is, he is conscious that his eyes are heavy and his face red. The last, however, was only true in part, for he was rather pale than otherwise.