“We ordered a pair of blankets for my cousin,” Joachim answered unconcernedly.

“For the afternoon cure⁠—it’s got so beastly cold; and I am supposed to do as the Romans do, up here,” Hans Castorp said, laughing and looking at the ground.

“Ah ha! Blankets⁠—the cure,” Settembrini said. “Yes, yes. In fact: placet experiri ,” he repeated, with his Italian pronunciation, and took his leave, for their conversation had brought them to the door of the sanatorium, where they greeted the lame concierge in his lodge. Settembrini turned off into one of the sitting-rooms, to read the newspapers before luncheon. He evidently meant to cut the second rest period.