“Have you 99.3°?”

“It’s going down already,” and Joachim made the entry on his chart. “Last night it was almost 100°⁠—that was your arrival. A visit always makes it go up. But it is a good thing, notwithstanding.”

“I’ll go now,” said Hans Castorp. “I’ve still a great many ideas in my head about the time⁠—a whole complex, if I may say so. But I won’t excite you with them now, you’ve too many degrees as it is. I’ll keep them all and return to them later, perhaps after breakfast. You will call me when it is time, I suppose. I’ll go now and lie down; it won’t hurt me, thank goodness.” With which he passed round the glass partition into his loggia, where stood his own reclining-chair and side-table. He fetched Ocean Steamships and his beautiful, soft, dark-red and green plaid from within the room, which had already been put into perfect order, and sat himself down.