“We’ve come for a little visit,” said Hans Castorp, with his eyes more on the pious horror in the corner than on the owner of the surprising room, who was expressing his gratification that the cousins had kept their word. With a hospitable motion of his small right hand he would have ushered them to the satin chairs. But Hans Castorp went as if spellbound straight up to the wooden group, and stood before it, arms akimbo and head on one side.

“What is this you have here?” he asked, in a low voice. “It’s frightfully good. What depiction of suffering! It’s old, of course?”

“Fourteenth century,” answered Naphta. “Probably comes from the Rhine. Does it impress you?”

“Enormously,” said Hans Castorp. “It would impress anybody⁠—couldn’t help it. I should never have thought there could be anything in the world at once so⁠—forgive me⁠—so ugly, and so beautiful.”