“Morning, gentlemen, morning,” he said. “Always on the jump, eh? How’s everything in the big world? I’ve just come from an unequal duel with saw and scalpel⁠—great thing, you know, resection of ribs. Fifty percent of the cases used to be left on the table. Nowadays we have it down finer than that; but even so it’s a good plan to get the mortis causa fixed up beforehand. The chap today knew how to take the joke⁠—put up a good fight for a minute or so.⁠—Crazy thing, a human thorax that’s all gone; pulpy, you know, nothing to catch hold of⁠—slight confusion of ideas, so to speak. Well, well⁠—and how are your constitutionalities? Sanctified metabolisms functioning OK, doing their duty in the sight of the Lord? The walks go better in company, Ziemssen, old fellow, what? Hello, what are you crying about, Mr. Tripper?” He suddenly turned on Hans Castorp. “It’s against the rules to cry in public⁠—they might all start!”