The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann

Once more we hear Herr Hofrat Behren's voice -- let us give it our ear. For we hear it perhaps for the last time. Some day even the story itself will come to an end. Long has it lasted; or, rather, the pace of its contentual time has so increased that there is no more holding it, even its musical time is running out. Perhaps we shall have no further opportunity to hear the lively cadences of the Rhadamanthine tongue. The Hofrat said to Hans Castorp: "Castorp, old cock, you're bored. Chapfallen, I see it every day, disgust and ennui are written on your brow. You're collapsed like a punctured tire -- if some first-class excitement doesn't come along every day, you pull a face as though you were saying: ‘H'm, small potatoes and few in the hill! ' Am I right, or am I not?"

Hans Castorp said never a word -- a sure sign that his inward man was indeed pervaded with gloom.