Hans Castorp heaved a deep sigh. “Herr Naphta,” he said, “every word you say interests me enormously. ‘ Signum mortificationis ’⁠—is that right? I’ll remember it. ‘Anonymous and communal’⁠—and that will take some thinking about too. You are quite right in assuming I don’t know the work of that pope⁠—I take it Innocent III was a pope? Did I understand you to say it is witty and ascetic? I must confess I should never have thought the two things went hand in hand; but when I put my mind to it, of course it is obvious that a discourse on human misery gives one a good chance to poke fun at the things of the flesh. Is the work obtainable? Perhaps if I got up my Latin I could read it.”

“I have it here,” Naphta said, motioning with his head toward one of the bookcases. “It is at your service. But, shall we not sit down? You can look at the pietà from the sofa. Tea is just coming in.”