The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trial, by Franz Kafka—A Project Gutenberg eBook (2025)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trial, by Franz Kafka

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Title: The Trial

Author: Franz Kafka

Translator: David Wyllie

Release Date: May 16, 2003 [eBook #7849]
[Most recently updated: January 8, 2023]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIAL ***

THE TRIAL
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten

Translation Copyright © by David Wyllie

Translator contact email: dandelion@post.cz

Chapter One

Arrest—Conversation with Mrs. Grubach—Then Miss Bürstner

Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K., he knew he had donenothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested. Every day at eight inthe morning he was brought his breakfast by Mrs. Grubach's cook—Mrs.Grubach was his landlady—but today she didn't come. That had neverhappened before. K. waited a little while, looked from his pillow at theold woman who lived opposite and who was watching him with aninquisitiveness quite unusual for her, and finally, both hungry anddisconcerted, rang the bell. There was immediately a knock at the doorand a man entered. He had never seen the man in this house before. Hewas slim but firmly built, his clothes were black and close-fitting,with many folds and pockets, buckles and buttons and a belt, all ofwhich gave the impression of being very practical but without making itvery clear what they were actually for. "Who are you?" asked K., sittinghalf upright in his bed. The man, however, ignored the question as ifhis arrival simply had to be accepted, and merely replied, "You rang?""Anna should have brought me my breakfast," said K. He tried to workout who the man actually was, first in silence, just throughobservation and by thinking about it, but the man didn't stay still tobe looked at for very long. Instead he went over to the door, opened itslightly, and said to someone who was clearly standing immediatelybehind it, "Hewants Anna to bring him his breakfast." There was a little laughter inthe neighbouring room, it was not clear from the sound of it whetherthere were several people laughing. The strange man could not havelearned anything from it that he hadn't known already, but now he saidto K., as if making his report "It is not possible." "It would be thefirst time that's happened," said K., as he jumped out of bed andquickly pulled on his trousers. "I want to see who that is in the nextroom, and why it is that Mrs. Grubach has let me be disturbed in thisway." It immediately occurred to him that he needn't have said this outloud, and that he must to some extent have acknowledged their authorityby doing so, but that didn't seem important to him at the time. That, atleast, is how the stranger took it, as he said, "Don't you think you'dbetter stay where you are?" "I want neither to stay here nor to bespoken to by you until you've introduced yourself." "I meant it for yourown good," said the stranger and opened the door, this time withoutbeing asked. The next room, which K. entered more slowly than he hadintended, looked at first glance exactly the same as it had the previousevening. It was Mrs. Grubach's living room, over-filled with furniture,tablecloths, porcelain and photographs. Perhaps there was a little morespace in there than usual today, but if so it was not immediatelyobvious, especially as the main difference was the presence of a mansitting by the open window with a book from which he now looked up."You should have stayed in your room! Didn't Franz tell you?" "And whatis it you want, then?" said K., looking back and forth between this newacquaintance and the one named Franz, who had remained in the doorway.Through the open window he noticed the old woman again, who had comeclose to the window opposite so that she could continue to seeeverything. She was showing an inquisitiveness that really made it seemlike she was going senile. "I want to see Mrs. Grubach ...," said K.,making a movement as if tearing himself away from the two men—eventhough they were standing well away from him—and wanted to go. "No,"said the man at the window, who threw his book down on a coffee tableand stood up. "You can't go away when you're under arrest." "That's howit seems," said K. "And why am I under arrest?" he then asked. "That'ssomething we're not allowed to tell you. Go into your room and waitthere. Proceedings are underway and you'll learn about everything all ingood time. It's not really part of my job to be friendly towards youlike this, but I hope no-one, apart from Franz, will hear about it, andhe's been more friendly towards you than he should have been, under therules, himself. If you carry on having as much good luck as you havebeen with your arresting officers then you can reckon on things goingwell with you." K. wanted to sit down, but then he saw that, apart fromthe chair by the window, there was nowhere anywhere in the room where hecould sit. "You'll get the chance to see for yourself how true all thisis," said Franz and both men then walked up to K. They weresignificantly bigger than him, especially the second man, who frequentlyslapped him on the shoulder. The two of them felt K.'s nightshirt, andsaid he would now have to wear one that was of much lower quality, butthat they would keep the nightshirt along with his other underclothesand return them to him if his case turned out well. "It's better for youif you give us the things than if you leave them in the storeroom," theysaid. "Things have a tendency to go missing in the storeroom, and aftera certain amount of time they sell things off, whether the case involvedhas come to an end or not. And cases like this can last a long time,especially the ones that have been coming up lately. They'd give you themoney they got for them, but it wouldn't be very much as it's not whatthey're offered for them when they sell them that counts, it's how muchthey get slipped on the side, and things like that lose their valueanyway when they get passed on from hand to hand, year after year." K.paid hardly any attention to what they were saying, he did not placemuch value on what he may have still possessed or on who decided whathappened to them. It was much more important to him to get a clearunderstanding of his position, but he could not think clearly whilethese people were here, the second policeman's belly—and they couldonly be policemen—looked friendly enough, sticking out towards him, butwhen K. looked up and saw his dry, bony face it did not seem to fitwith the body. His strong nose twisted to one side as if ignoring K. andsharing an understanding with the other policeman. What sort of peoplewere these? What were they talking about? What office did they belongto? K. was living in a free country, after all, everywhere was at peace,all laws were decent and were upheld, who was it who dared accost him inhis own home. He was always inclined to take life as lightly as hecould, to cross bridges when he came to them, pay no heed for thefuture, even when everything seemed under threat. But here that did notseem the right thing to do. He could have taken it all as a joke, a bigjoke set up by his colleagues at the bank for some unknown reason, oralso perhaps because today was his thirtieth birthday, it was allpossible of course, maybe all he had to do was laugh in the policemen'sface in some way and they would laugh with him, maybe they weretradesmen from the corner of the street, they looked like they mightbe—but he was nonetheless determined, ever since he first caught sightof the one called Franz, not to lose any slight advantage he might havehad over these people. There was a very slight risk that people wouldlater say he couldn't understand a joke, but—although he wasn'tnormally in the habit of learning from experience—he might also havehad a few unimportant occasions in mind when, unlike his more cautiousfriends, he had acted with no thought at all for what might follow andhad been made to suffer for it. He didn't want that to happen again, notthis time at least; if they were play-acting he would act along withthem.

He still had time. "Allow me," he said, and hurried between the twopolicemen through into his room. "He seems sensible enough," he heardthem say behind him. Once in his room, he quickly pulled open the drawerof his writing desk, everything in it was very tidy but in hisagitation he was unable to find the identification documents he waslooking for straight away. He finally found his bicycle permit and wasabout to go back to the policemen with it when it seemed to him toopetty, so he carried on searching until he found his birth certificate.Just as he got back in the adjoining room the door on the other sideopened and Mrs. Grubach was about to enter. He only saw her for aninstant, for as soon as she recognised K. she was clearly embarrassed,asked for forgiveness and disappeared, closing the door behind her verycarefully. "Do come in," K. could have said just then. But now he stoodin the middle of the room with his papers in his hand and still lookingat the door which did not open again. He stayed like that until he wasstartled out of it by the shout of the policeman who sat at the littletable at the open window and, as K. now saw, was eating his breakfast."Why didn't she come in?" he asked. "She's not allowed to," said thebig policeman. "You're under arrest, aren't you?" "But how can I beunder arrest? And how come it's like this?" "Now you're starting again,"said the policeman, dipping a piece of buttered bread in the honeypot."We don't answer questions like that." "You will have to answer them,"said K. "Here are my identification papers, now show me yours and Icertainly want to see the arrest warrant." "Oh, my God!" said thepoliceman. "In a position like yours, and you think you can start givingorders, do you. It won't do you any good to get us on the wrong side,even if you think it will—we're probably more on your side that anyoneelse you know!" "That's true, you know, you'd better believe it," saidFranz, holding a cup of coffee in his hand which he did not lift to hismouth but looked at K. in a way that was probably meant to be full ofmeaning but could not actually be understood. K. found himself, withoutintending it, in a mute dialogue with Franz, but then slapped his handdown on his papers and said, "Here are my identity documents." "And whatdo you want us to do about it?" replied the big policeman, loudly. "Theway you're carrying on, it's worse than a child. What is it you want? Doyou want to get this great, bloody trial of yours over with quickly bytalking about ID and arrest warrants with us? We're just coppers, that'sall we are. Junior officers like us hardly know one end of an ID cardfrom another, all we've got to do with you is keep an eye on you forten hours a day and get paid for it. That's all we are. Mind you, whatwe can do is make sure that the high officials we work for find outjust what sort of person it is they're going to arrest, and why heshould be arrested, before they issue the warrant. There's no mistakethere. Our authorities as far as I know, and I only know the lowestgrades, don't go out looking for guilt among the public; it's the guiltthat draws them out, like it says in the law, and they have to send uspolice officers out. That's the law. Where d'you think there'd be anymistake there?" "I don't know this law," said K. "So much the worse foryou, then," said the policeman. "It's probably exists only in yourheads," said K., he wanted, in some way, to insinuate his way into thethoughts of the policemen, to re-shape those thoughts to his benefit orto make himself at home there. But the policeman just said dismissively,"You'll find out when it affects you." Franz joined in, and said, "Lookat this, Willem, he admits he doesn't know the law and at the same timeinsists he's innocent." "You're quite right, but we can't get him tounderstand a thing," said the other. K. stopped talking with them; do I,he thought to himself, do I really have to carry on getting tangled upwith the chattering of base functionaries like this?—and they admitthemselves that they are of the lowest position. They're talking aboutthings of which they don't have the slightest understanding, anyway.It's only because of their stupidity that they're able to be so sure ofthemselves. I just need few words with someone of the same socialstanding as myself and everything will be incomparably clearer, muchclearer than a long conversation with these two can make it. He walkedup and down the free space in the room a couple of times, across thestreet he could see the old woman who, now, had pulled an old man, mucholder than herself, up to the window and had her arms around him. K. hadto put an end to this display, "Take me to your superior," he said. "Assoon as he wants to see you. Not before," said the policeman, the onecalled Willem. "And now my advice to you," he added, "is to go into yourroom, stay calm, and wait and see what's to be done with you. If youtake our advice, you won't tire yourself out thinking about things to nopurpose, you need to pull yourself together as there's a lot that'sgoing to required of you. You've not behaved towards us the way wedeserve after being so good to you, you forget that we, whatever we are,we're still free men and you're not, and that's quite an advantage. Butin spite of all that we're still willing, if you've got the money, to goand get you some breakfast from the café over the road."

Without giving any answer to this offer, K. stood still for some time.Perhaps, if he opened the door of the next room or even the front door,the two of them would not dare to stand in his way, perhaps that wouldbe the simplest way to settle the whole thing, by bringing it to a head.But maybe they would grab him, and if he were thrown down on the groundhe would lose all the advantage he, in a certain respect, had over them.So he decided on the more certain solution, the way things would go inthe natural course of events, and went back in his room without anotherword either from him or from the policemen.

He threw himself down on his bed, and from the dressing table he tookthe nice apple that he had put there the previous evening for hisbreakfast. Now it was all the breakfast he had and anyway, as heconfirmed as soon as he took his first, big bite of it, it was farbetter than a breakfast he could have had through the good will of thepolicemen from the dirty café. He felt well and confident, he had failedto go into work at the bank this morning but that could easily beexcused because of the relatively high position he held there. Should hereally send in his explanation? He wondered about it. If nobody believedhim, and in this case that would be understandable, he could bring Mrs.Grubach in as a witness, or even the old pair from across the street,who probably even now were on their way over to the window opposite. Itpuzzled K., at least it puzzled him looking at it from the policemen'spoint of view, that they had made him go into the room and left himalone there, where he had ten different ways of killing himself. At thesame time, though, he asked himself, this time looking at it from hisown point of view, what reason he could have to do so. Because those twowere sitting there in the next room and had taken his breakfast,perhaps. It would have been so pointless to kill himself that, even ifhe had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him unable. Maybe,if the policemen had not been so obviously limited in their mentalabilities, it could have been supposed that they had come to the sameconclusion and saw no danger in leaving him alone because of it. Theycould watch now, if they wanted, and see how he went over to thecupboard in the wall where he kept a bottle of good schnapps, how hefirst emptied a glass of it in place of his breakfast and how he thentook a second glassful in order to give himself courage, the last onejust as a precaution for the unlikely chance it would be needed.

Then he was so startled by a shout to him from the other room that hestruck his teeth against the glass. "The supervisor wants to see you!" avoice said. It was only the shout that startled him, this curt, abrupt,military shout, that he would not have expected from the policemancalled Franz. In itself, he found the order very welcome. "At last!" hecalled back, locked the cupboard and, without delay, hurried into thenext room. The two policemen were standing there and chased him backinto his bedroom as if that were a matter of course. "What d'you thinkyou're doing?" they cried. "Think you're going to see the supervisordressed in just your shirt, do you? He'd see to it you got a rightthumping, and us and all!" "Let go of me for God's sake!" called K., whohad already been pushed back as far as his wardrobe, "if you accost mewhen I'm still in bed you can't expect to find me in my evening dress.""That won't help you," said the policemen, who always became very quiet,almost sad, when K. began to shout, and in that way confused him or, tosome extent, brought him to his senses. "Ridiculous formalities!" hegrumbled, as he lifted his coat from the chair and kept it in both hishands for a little while, as if holding it out for the policemen'sinspection. They shook their heads. "It's got to be a black coat,"they said. At that, K. threw the coat to the floor and said—withoutknowing even himself what he meant by it—"Well it's not going to be themain trial, after all." The policemen laughed, but continued to insist,"It's got to be a black coat." "Well that's alright by me if it makesthings go any faster," said K. He opened the wardrobe himself, spent along time searching through all the clothes, and chose his best blacksuit which had a short jacket that had greatly surprised those who knewhim, then he also pulled out a fresh shirt and began, carefully, to getdressed. He secretly told himself that he had succeeded in speedingthings up by letting the policemen forget to make him have a bath. Hewatched them to see if they might remember after all, but of course itnever occurred to them, although Willem did not forget to send Franz upto the supervisor with the message saying that K. was getting dressed.

Once he was properly dressed, K. had to pass by Willem as he wentthrough the next room into the one beyond, the door of which was alreadywide open. K. knew very well that this room had recently been let to atypist called 'Miss Bürstner'. She was in the habit of going out to workvery early and coming back home very late, and K. had never exchangedmore than a few words of greeting with her. Now, her bedside table hadbeen pulled into the middle of the room to be used as a desk for theseproceedings, and the supervisor sat behind it. He had his legs crossed,and had thrown one arm over the backrest of the chair.

In one corner of the room there were three young people looking at thephotographs belonging to Miss Bürstner that had been put into a piece offabric on the wall. Hung up on the handle of the open window was a whiteblouse. At the window across the street, there was the old pair again,although now their number had increased, as behind them, and far tallerthan they were, stood a man with an open shirt that showed his chest anda reddish goatee beard which he squeezed and twisted with his fingers."Josef K.?" asked the supervisor, perhaps merely to attract K.'sattention as he looked round the room. K. nodded. "I daresay you werequite surprised by all that's been taking place this morning," said thesupervisor as, with both hands, he pushed away the few items on thebedside table—the candle and box of matches, a book and a pin cushionwhich lay there as if they were things he would need for his ownbusiness. "Certainly," said K., and he began to feel relaxed now that,at last, he stood in front of someone with some sense, someone with whomhe would be able to talk about his situation. "Certainly I'm surprised,but I'm not in any way very surprised." "You're not very surprised?"asked the supervisor, as he positioned the candle in the middle of thetable and the other things in a group around it. "Perhaps you don'tquite understand me," K. hurriedly pointed out. "What I mean is ..."here K. broke off what he was saying and looked round for somewhere tosit. "I may sit down, mayn't I?" he asked. "That's not usual," thesupervisor answered. "What I mean is ...," said K. without delaying asecond time, "that, yes, I am very surprised but when you've been in theworld for thirty years already and had to make your own way througheverything yourself, which has been my lot, then you become hardened tosurprises and don't take them too hard. Especially not what's happenedtoday." "Why especially not what's happened today?" "I wouldn't want tosay that I see all of this as a joke, you seem to have gone to too muchtrouble making all these arrangements for that. Everyone in the housemust be taking part in it as well as all of you, that would be goingbeyond what could be a joke. So I don't want to say that this is ajoke." "Quite right," said the supervisor, looking to see how manymatches were left in the box. "But on the other hand," K. went on,looking round at everyone there and even wishing he could get theattention of the three who were looking at the photographs, "on theother hand this really can't be all that important. That follows fromthe fact that I've been indicted, but can't think of the slightestoffence for which I could be indicted. But even that is all beside thepoint, the main question is: Who is issuing the indictment? What officeis conducting this affair? Are you officials? None of you is wearing auniform, unless what you are wearing"—here he turned towards Franz—"ismeant to be a uniform, it's actually more of a travelling suit. Irequire a clear answer to all these questions, and I'm quite sure thatonce things have been made clear we can take our leave of each other onthe best of terms." The supervisor slammed the box of matches down onthe table. "You're making a big mistake," he said. "These gentlemen andI have got nothing to do with your business, in fact we know almostnothing about you. We could be wearing uniforms as proper and exact asyou like and your situation wouldn't be any the worse for it. As towhether you're on a charge, I can't give you any sort of clear answer tothat, I don't even know whether you are or not. You're under arrest,you're quite right about that, but I don't know any more than that.Maybe these officers have been chit-chatting with you, well if they havethat's all it is, chit-chat. I can't give you an answer to yourquestions, but I can give you a bit of advice: You'd better think lessabout us and what's going to happen to you, and think a bit more aboutyourself. And stop making all this fuss about your sense of innocence;you don't make such a bad impression, but with all this fuss you'redamaging it. And you ought to do a bit less talking, too. Almosteverything you've said so far has been things we could have taken fromyour behaviour, even if you'd said no more than a few words. And whatyou have said has not exactly been in your favour."

K. stared at the supervisor. Was this man, probably younger than he was,lecturing him like a schoolmaster. Was he being punished for his honestywith a telling off. And was he to learn nothing about the reasons forhis arrest or those who were arresting him. He became somewhat cross andbegan to walk up and down. No-one stopped him doing this and he pushedhis sleeves back, felt his chest, straightened his hair, went over tothe three men, said, "It makes no sense," at which these three turnedround to face him and came towards him with serious expressions. Hefinally came again to a halt in front of the supervisor's desk. "StateAttorney Hasterer is a good friend of mine," he said, "can I telephonehim?" "Certainly," said the supervisor, "but I don't know what the pointof that will be, I suppose you must have some private matter you want todiscuss with him." "What the point is?" shouted K., more disconcertedthat cross. "Who do you think you are? You want to see some point in itwhile you're carrying out something as pointless as it could be. It'senough to make you cry! These gentlemen first accost me, and now theysit or stand about in here and let me be hauled up in front of you.What point there would be, in telephoning a state attorney when I'mostensibly under arrest? Very well, I won't make the telephone call.""You can call him if you want to," said the supervisor, stretching hishand out towards the outer room where the telephone was, "please, go on,do make your phone call." "No, I don't want to any more," said K., andwent over to the window. Across the street, the people were still thereat the window, and it was only now that K. had gone up to his windowthat they seemed to become uneasy about quietly watching what was goingon. The old couple wanted to get up but the man behind them calmed themdown. "We've got some kind of audience over there," called K. to thesupervisor, quite loudly, as he pointed out with his forefinger. "Goaway," he then called across to them. And the three of them didimmediately retreat a few steps, the old pair even found themselvesbehind the man who then concealed them with the breadth of his body andseemed, going by the movements of his mouth, to be saying somethingincomprehensible into the distance. They did not disappear entirely,though, but seemed to be waiting for the moment when they could comeback to the window without being noticed. "Intrusive, thoughtlesspeople!" said K. as he turned back into the room. The supervisor mayhave agreed with him, at least K. thought that was what he saw from thecorner of his eye. But it was just as possible that he had not even beenlistening as he had his hand pressed firmly down on the table and seemedto be comparing the length of his fingers. The two policemen weresitting on a chest covered with a coloured blanket, rubbing their knees.The three young people had put their hands on their hips and werelooking round aimlessly. Everything was still, like in some office thathas been forgotten about. "Now, gentlemen," called out K., and for amoment it seemed as if he was carrying all of them on his shoulders, "itlooks like your business with me is over with. In my opinion, it's bestnow to stop wondering about whether you're proceeding correctly orincorrectly, and to bring the matter to a peaceful close with a mutualhandshake. If you are of the same opinion, then please...." and hewalked up to the supervisor's desk and held out his hand to him. Thesupervisor raised his eyes, bit his lip and looked at K.'s outstretchedhand; K. still believed the supervisor would do as he suggested. Butinstead, he stood up, picked up a hard round hat that was laying onMiss Bürstner's bed and put it carefully onto his head, using both handsas if trying on a new hat. "Everything seems so simple to you, doesn'tit," he said to K. as he did so, "so you think we should bring thematter to a peaceful close, do you? No, no, that won't do. Mind you, onthe other hand I certainly wouldn't want you to think there's no hopefor you. No, why should you think that? You're simply under arrest,nothing more than that. That's what I had to tell you, that's what I'vedone and now I've seen how you've taken it. That's enough for one dayand we can take our leave of each other, for the time being at least. Iexpect you'll want to go in to the bank now, won't you?" "In to thebank?" asked K., "I thought I was under arrest." K. said this with acertain amount of defiance as, although his handshake had not beenaccepted, he was feeling more independent of all these people,especially since the supervisor had stood up. He was playing with them.If they left, he had decided he would run after them and offer to letthem arrest him. That's why he even repeated, "How can I go in to thebank when I'm under arrest?" "I see you've misunderstood me," said thesupervisor who was already at the door. "It's true that you're underarrest, but that shouldn't stop you from carrying out your job. Andthere shouldn't be anything to stop you carrying on with your usuallife." "In that case it's not too bad, being under arrest," said K., andwent up close to the supervisor. "I never meant it should be anythingelse," he replied. "It hardly seems to have been necessary to notify meof the arrest in that case," said K., and went even closer. The othershad also come closer. All of them had gathered together into a narrowspace by the door. "That was my duty," said the supervisor. "A sillyduty," said K., unyielding. "Maybe so," replied the supervisor, "onlydon't let's waste our time talking on like this. I had assumed you'd bewanting to go to the bank. As you're paying close attention to everyword I'll add this: I'm not forcing you to go to the bank, I'd justassumed you wanted to. And to make things easier for you, and to let youget to the bank with as little fuss as possible I've put these threegentlemen, colleagues of yours, at your disposal." "What's that?"exclaimed K., and looked at the three in astonishment. He could onlyremember seeing them in their group by the photographs, but thesecharacterless, anaemic young people were indeed officials from his bank,not colleagues of his, that was putting it too high and it showed a gapin the omniscience of the supervisor, but they were nonetheless juniormembers of staff at the bank. How could K. have failed to see that? Howoccupied he must have been with the supervisor and the policemen not tohave recognised these three! Rabensteiner, with his stiff demeanour andswinging hands, Kullich, with his blonde hair and deep-set eyes, andKaminer, with his involuntary grin caused by chronic muscle spasms."Good morning," said K. after a while, extending his hand to thegentlemen as they bowed correctly to him. "I didn't recognise you atall. So, we'll go into work now, shall we?" The gentlemen laughed andnodded enthusiastically, as if that was what they had been waiting forall the time, except that K. had left his hat in his room so they alldashed, one after another, into the room to fetch it, which caused acertain amount of embarrassment. K. stood where he was and watched themthrough the open double doorway, the last to go, of course, was theapathetic Rabensteiner who had broken into no more than an elegant trot.Kaminer got to the hat and K., as he often had to do at the bank,forcibly reminded himself that the grin was not deliberate, that he infact wasn't able to grin deliberately. At that moment Mrs. Grubachopened the door from the hallway into the living room where all thepeople were. She did not seem to feel guilty about anything at all, andK., as often before, looked down at the belt of her apron which, for noreason, cut so deeply into her hefty body. Once downstairs, K., with hiswatch in his hand, decided to take a taxi—he had already been delayedby half an hour and there was no need to make the delay any longer.Kaminer ran to the corner to summon it, and the two others were makingobvious efforts to keep K. diverted when Kullich pointed to the doorwayof the house on the other side of the street where the large man withthe blonde goatee beard appeared and, a little embarrassed at first atletting himself be seen in his full height, stepped back to the wall andleant against it. The old couple were probably still on the stairs. K.was cross with Kullich for pointing out this man whom he had alreadyseen himself, in fact whom he had been expecting. "Don't look at him!"he snapped, without noticing how odd it was to speak to free men in thisway. But there was no explanation needed anyway as just then the taxiarrived, they sat inside and set off. Inside the taxi, K. rememberedthat he had not noticed the supervisor and the policemen leaving—thesupervisor had stopped him noticing the three bank staff and now thethree bank staff had stopped him noticing the supervisor. This showedthat K. was not very attentive, and he resolved to watch himself morecarefully in this respect. Nonetheless, he gave it no thought as hetwisted himself round and leant over onto the rear shelf of the car tocatch sight of the supervisor and the policemen if he could. But heturned back round straight away and leant comfortably into the corner ofthe taxi without even having made the effort to see anyone. Although itdid not seem like it, now was just the time when he needed someencouragement, but the gentlemen seemed tired just then, Rabensteinerlooked out of the car to the right, Kullich to the left and only Kaminerwas there with his grin at K.'s service. It would have been inhumane tomake fun of that.

That spring, whenever possible, K. usually spent his evenings afterwork—he usually stayed in the office until nine o'clock—with a shortwalk, either by himself or in the company of some of the bank officials,and then he would go into a pub where he would sit at the regulars'table with mostly older men until eleven. There were, however, alsoexceptions to this habit, times, for instance, when K. was invited bythe bank's manager (whom he greatly respected for his industry andtrustworthiness) to go with him for a ride in his car or to eat dinnerwith him at his large house. K. would also go, once a week, to see agirl called Elsa who worked as a waitress in a wine bar through thenight until late in the morning. During the daytime she only receivedvisitors while still in bed.

That evening, though,—the day had passed quickly with a lot of hardwork and many respectful and friendly birthday greetings—K. wanted togo straight home. Each time he had any small break from the day's workhe considered, without knowing exactly what he had in mind, that Mrs.Grubach's flat seemed to have been put into great disarray by the eventsof that morning, and that it was up to him to put it back into order.Once order had been restored, every trace of those events would havebeen erased and everything would take its previous course once more. Inparticular, there was nothing to fear from the three bank officials,they had immersed themselves back into their paperwork and there was noalteration to be seen in them. K. had called each of them, separately orall together, into his office that day for no other reason than toobserve them; he was always satisfied and had always been able to letthem go again.

At half past nine that evening, when he arrived back in front of thebuilding where he lived, he met a young lad in the doorway who wasstanding there, his legs apart and smoking a pipe. "Who are you?"immediately asked K., bringing his face close to the lad's, as it washard to see in the half light of the landing. "I'm the landlord's son,sir," answered the lad, taking the pipe from his mouth and stepping toone side. "The landlord's son?" asked K., and impatiently knocked on theground with his stick. "Did you want anything, sir? Would you like meto fetch my father?" "No, no," said K., there was something forgivingin his voice, as if the boy had harmed him in some way and he wasexcusing him. "It's alright," he said then, and went on, but beforegoing up the stairs he turned round once more.

He could have gone directly to his room, but as he wanted to speak withMrs. Grubach he went straight to her door and knocked. She was sat atthe table with a knitted stocking and a pile of old stockings in frontof her. K. apologised, a little embarrassed at coming so late, but Mrs.Grubach was very friendly and did not want to hear any apology, she wasalways ready to speak to him, he knew very well that he was her best andher favourite tenant. K. looked round the room, it looked exactly as itusually did, the breakfast dishes, which had been on the table by thewindow that morning, had already been cleared away. "A woman's handswill do many things when no-one's looking," he thought, he might himselfhave smashed all the dishes on the spot but certainly would not havebeen able to carry it all out. He looked at Mrs. Grubach with somegratitude. "Why are you working so late?" he asked. They were now bothsitting at the table, and K. now and then sank his hands into the pileof stockings. "There's a lot of work to do," she said, "during the day Ibelong to the tenants; if I'm to sort out my own things there are onlythe evenings left to me." "I fear I may have caused you some exceptionalwork today." "How do you mean, Mr. K.?" she asked, becoming moreinterested and leaving her work in her lap. "I mean the men who werehere this morning." "Oh, I see," she said, and went peacefully back towhat she was doing, "that was no trouble, not especially." K. looked onin silence as she took up the knitted stocking once more. She seemssurprised at my mentioning it, he thought, she seems to think it'simproper for me to mention it. All the more important for me to do so.An old woman is the only person I can speak about it with. "But it musthave caused some work for you," he said then, "but it won't happenagain." "No, it can't happen again," she agreed, and smiled at K. in away that was almost pained. "Do you mean that seriously?" asked K."Yes," she said, more gently, "but the important thing is you mustn'ttake it too hard. There are so many awful things happening in the world!As you're being so honest with me, Mr. K., I can admit to you that Ilistened to a little of what was going on from behind the door, and thatthose two policemen told me one or two things as well. It's all to dowith your happiness, and that's something that's quite close to myheart, perhaps more than it should be as I am, after all, only yourlandlady. Anyway, so I heard one or two things but I can't really saythat it's about anything very serious. No. You have been arrested, butit's not in the same way as when they arrest a thief. If you're arrestedin the same way as a thief, then it's bad, but an arrest like this....It seems to me that it's something very complicated—forgive me if I'msaying something stupid—something very complicated that I don'tunderstand, but something that you don't really need to understandanyway."

"There's nothing stupid about what you've said, Mrs. Grubach, or atleast I partly agree with you, only, the way I judge the whole thing isharsher than yours, and think it's not only not something complicatedbut simply a fuss about nothing. I was just caught unawares, that's whathappened. If I had got up as soon as I was awake without letting myselfget confused because Anna wasn't there, if I'd got up and paid no regardto anyone who might have been in my way and come straight to you, if I'ddone something like having my breakfast in the kitchen as an exception,asked you to bring my clothes from my room, in short, if I had behavedsensibly then nothing more would have happened, everything that waswaiting to happen would have been stifled. People are so oftenunprepared. In the bank, for example, I am well prepared, nothing ofthis sort could possibly happen to me there, I have my own assistantthere, there are telephones for internal and external calls in front ofme on the desk, I continually receive visits from people,representatives, officials, but besides that, and most importantly, I'malways occupied with my work, that's to say I'm always alert, it wouldeven be a pleasure for me to find myself faced with something of thatsort. But now it's over with, and I didn't really even want to talkabout it any more, only I wanted to hear what you, as a sensible woman,thought about it all, and I'm very glad to hear that we're in agreement.But now you must give me your hand, an agreement of this sort needs tobe confirmed with a handshake."

Will she shake hands with me? The supervisor didn't shake hands, hethought, and looked at the woman differently from before, examining her.She stood up, as he had also stood up, and was a little self-conscious,she hadn't been able to understand everything that K. said. As a resultof this self-consciousness she said something that she certainly didnot intend and certainly was not appropriate. "Don't take it so hard,Mr. K.," she said, with tears in her voice and also, of course,forgetting the handshake. "I didn't know I was taking it hard," said K.,feeling suddenly tired and seeing that if this woman did agree with himit was of very little value.

Before going out the door he asked, "Is Miss Bürstner home?" "No," saidMrs. Grubach, smiling as she gave this simple piece of information,saying something sensible at last. "She's at the theatre. Did you wantto see her? Should I give her a message?" "I, er, I just wanted to havea few words with her." "I'm afraid I don't know when she's coming in;she usually gets back late when she's been to the theatre." "It reallydoesn't matter," said K. his head hanging as he turned to the door toleave, "I just wanted to give her my apology for taking over her roomtoday." "There's no need for that, Mr. K., you're too conscientious, theyoung lady doesn't know anything about it, she hasn't been home sinceearly this morning and everything's been tidied up again, you can seefor yourself." And she opened the door to Miss Bürstner's room. "Thankyou, I'll take your word for it," said K., but went nonetheless over tothe open door. The moon shone quietly into the unlit room. As far ascould be seen, everything was indeed in its place, not even the blousewas hanging on the window handle. The pillows on the bed lookedremarkably plump as they lay half in the moonlight. "Miss Bürstner oftencomes home late," said K., looking at Mrs. Grubach as if that were herresponsibility. "That's how young people are!" said Mrs. Grubach toexcuse herself. "Of course, of course," said K., "but it can be takentoo far." "Yes, it can be," said Mrs. Grubach, "you're so right, Mr. K.Perhaps it is in this case. I certainly wouldn't want to say anythingnasty about Miss Bürstner, she is a good, sweet girl, friendly, tidy,punctual, works hard, I appreciate all that very much, but one thing istrue, she ought to have more pride, be a bit less forthcoming. Twicethis month already, in the street over the way, I've seen her with adifferent gentleman. I really don't like saying this, you're the onlyone I've said this to, Mr. K., I swear to God, but I'm going to have nochoice but to have a few words with Miss Bürstner about it myself. Andit's not the only thing about her that I'm worried about." "Mrs.Grubach, you are on quite the wrong track," said K., so angry that hewas hardly able to hide it, "and you have moreover misunderstood what Iwas saying about Miss Bürstner, that is not what I meant. In fact I warnyou quite directly not to say anything to her, you are quite mistaken, Iknow Miss Bürstner very well and there is no truth at all in what yousay. And what's more, perhaps I'm going to far, I don't want to get inyour way, say to her whatever you see fit. Good night." "Mr. K.," saidMrs. Grubach as if asking him for something and hurrying to his doorwhich he had already opened, "I don't want to speak to Miss Bürstner atall, not yet, of course I'll continue to keep an eye on her but you'rethe only one I've told what I know. And it is, after all something thateveryone who lets rooms has to do if she's to keep the house decent,that's all I'm trying to do." "Decent!" called out K. through the crackin the door, "if you want to keep the house decent you'll first have togive me notice." Then he slammed the door shut, there was a gentleknocking to which he paid no more attention.

He did not feel at all like going to bed, so he decided to stay up, andthis would also give him the chance to find out when Miss Bürstner wouldarrive home. Perhaps it would also still be possible, even if a littleinappropriate, to have a few words with her. As he lay there by thewindow, pressing his hands to his tired eyes, he even thought for amoment that he might punish Mrs. Grubach by persuading Miss Bürstner togive in her notice at the same time as he would. But he immediatelyrealised that that would be shockingly excessive, and there would evenbe the suspicion that he was moving house because of the incidents ofthat morning. Nothing would have been more nonsensical and, above all,more pointless and contemptible.

When he had become tired of looking out onto the empty street heslightly opened the door to the living room so that he could see anyonewho entered the flat from where he was and lay down on the couch. He laythere, quietly smoking a cigar, until about eleven o'clock. He wasn'table to hold out longer than that, and went a little way into thehallway as if in that way he could make Miss Bürstner arrive sooner. Hehad no particular desire for her, he could not even remember what shelooked like, but now he wanted to speak to her and it irritated him thather late arrival home meant this day would be full of unease anddisorder right to its very end. It was also her fault that he had nothad any dinner that evening and that he had been unable to visit Elsaas he had intended. He could still make up for both of those things,though, if he went to the wine bar where Elsa worked. He wanted to do soeven later, after the discussion with Miss Bürstner.

It was already gone half past eleven when someone could be heard in thestairway. K., who had been lost in his thoughts in the hallway, walkingup and down loudly as if it were his own room, fled behind his door.Miss Bürstner had arrived. Shivering, she pulled a silk shawl over herslender shoulders as she locked the door. The next moment she wouldcertainly go into her room, where K. ought not to intrude in the middleof the night; that meant he would have to speak to her now, but,unfortunately, he had not put the electric light on in his room so thatwhen he stepped out of the dark it would give the impression of being anattack and would certainly, at the very least, have been quite alarming.There was no time to lose, and in his helplessness he whispered throughthe crack of the door, "Miss Bürstner." It sounded like he was pleadingwith her, not calling to her. "Is there someone there?" asked MissBürstner, looking round with her eyes wide open. "It's me," said K. andcame out. "Oh, Mr. K.!" said Miss Bürstner with a smile. "Good Evening,"and offered him her hand. "I wanted to have a word with you, if youwould allow me?" "Now?" asked Miss Bürstner, "does it have to be now? Itis a little odd, isn't it?" "I've been waiting for you since nineo'clock." "Well, I was at the theatre, I didn't know anything about youwaiting for me." "The reason I need to speak to you only came uptoday." "I see, well I don't see why not, I suppose, apart from beingso tired I could drop. Come into my room for a few minutes then. Wecertainly can't talk out here, we'd wake everyone up and I think thatwould be more unpleasant for us than for them. Wait here till I've putthe light on in my room, and then turn the light down out here." K. didas he was told, and then even waited until Miss Bürstner came out of herroom and quietly invited him, once more, to come in. "Sit down," shesaid, indicating the ottoman, while she herself remained standing bythe bedpost despite the tiredness she had spoken of; she did not eventake off her hat, which was small but decorated with an abundance offlowers. "What is it you wanted, then? I'm really quite curious." Shegently crossed her legs. "I expect you'll say," K. began, "that thematter really isn't all that urgent and we don't need to talk about itright now, but...." "I never listen to introductions," said MissBürstner. "That makes my job so much easier," said K. "This morning, tosome extent through my fault, your room was made a little untidy, thishappened because of people I did not know and against my will but, as Isaid, because of my fault; I wanted to apologise for it." "My room?"asked Miss Bürstner, and instead of looking round the room scrutinisedK. "It is true," said K., and now, for the first time, they looked eachother in the eyes, "there's no point in saying exactly how this cameabout." "But that's the interesting thing about it," said Miss Bürstner."No," said K. "Well then," said Miss Bürstner, "I don't want to force myway into any secrets, if you insist that it's of no interest I won'tinsist. I'm quite happy to forgive you for it, as you ask, especially asI can't see anything at all that's been left untidy." With her hand laidflat on her lower hip, she made a tour around the room. At the mat wherethe photographs were she stopped. "Look at this!" she cried. "Myphotographs really have been put in the wrong places. Oh, that'shorrible. Someone really has been in my room without permission." K.nodded, and quietly cursed Kaminer who worked at his bank and who wasalways active doing things that had neither use nor purpose. "It isodd," said Miss Bürstner, "that I'm forced to forbid you to do somethingthat you ought to have forbidden yourself to do, namely to come into myroom when I'm not here." "But I did explain to you," said K., and wentover to join her by the photographs, "that it wasn't me who interferedwith your photographs; but as you don't believe me I'll have to admitthat the investigating committee brought along three bank employees withthem, one of them must have touched your photographs and as soon as Iget the chance I'll ask to have him dismissed from the bank. Yes, therewas an investigating committee here," added K., as the young lady waslooking at him enquiringly. "Because of you?" she asked. "Yes," answeredK. "No!" the lady cried with a laugh. "Yes, they were," said K., "youbelieve that I'm innocent then, do you?" "Well now, innocent ..." saidthe lady, "I don't want to start making any pronouncements that mighthave serious consequences, I don't really know you after all, it meansthey're dealing with a serious criminal if they send an investigatingcommittee straight out to get him. But you're not in custody now—atleast I take it you've not escaped from prison considering that you seemquite calm—so you can't have committed any crime of that sort." "Yes,"said K., "but it might be that the investigating committee could seethat I'm innocent, or not so guilty as had been supposed." "Yes, that'scertainly a possibility," said Miss Bürstner, who seemed veryinterested. "Listen," said K., "you don't have much experience in legalmatters." "No, that's true, I don't," said Miss Bürstner, "and I'veoften regretted it, as I'd like to know everything and I'm veryinterested in legal matters. There's something peculiarly attractiveabout the law, isn't there. But I'll certainly be perfecting myknowledge in this area, as next month I start work in a legal office.""That's very good," said K., "that means you'll be able to give me somehelp with my trial." "That could well be," said Miss Bürstner, "why not?I like to make use of what I know." "I mean it quite seriously," saidK., "or at least, half seriously, as you do. This affair is too petty tocall in a lawyer, but I could make good use of someone who could give meadvice." "Yes, but if I'm to give you advice I'll have to know what it'sall about," said Miss Bürstner. "That's exactly the problem," said K.,"I don't know that myself." "So you have been making fun of me, then,"said Miss Bürstner exceedingly disappointed, "you really ought not totry something like that on at this time of night." And she stepped awayfrom the photographs where they had stood so long together. "MissBürstner, no," said K., "I'm not making fun of you. Please believe me!I've already told you everything I know. More than I know, in fact, asit actually wasn't even an investigating committee, that's just what Icalled them because I don't know what else to call them. There was nocross questioning at all, I was merely arrested, but by a committee."Miss Bürstner sat on the ottoman and laughed again. "What was it likethen?" she asked. "It was terrible," said K., although his mind was nolonger on the subject, he had become totally absorbed by Miss Bürstner'sgaze who was supporting her chin on one hand—the elbow rested on thecushion of the ottoman—and slowly stroking her hip with the other."That's too vague," said Miss Bürstner. "What's too vague?" asked K.Then he remembered himself and asked, "Would you like me to show youwhat it was like?" He wanted to move in some way but did not want toleave. "I'm already tired," said Miss Bürstner. "You arrived back solate," said K. "Now you've started telling me off. Well I suppose Ideserve it as I shouldn't have let you in here in the first place, andit turns out there wasn't even any point." "Oh, there was a point,you'll see now how important a point it was," said K. "May I move thistable away from your bedside and put it here?" "What do you think you'redoing?" said Miss Bürstner. "Of course you can't!" "In that case Ican't show you," said K., quite upset, as if Miss Bürstner had committedsome incomprehensible offence against him. "Alright then, if you need itto show what you mean, just take the bedside table then," said MissBürstner, and after a short pause added in a weak voice, "I'm so tiredI'm allowing more than I ought to." K. put the little table in themiddle of the room and sat down behind it. "You have to get a properidea of where the people were situated, it is very interesting. I'm thesupervisor, sitting over there on the chest are two policemen, standingnext to the photographs there are three young people. Hanging on thehandle of the window is a white blouse—I just mention that by the way.And now it begins. Ah yes, I'm forgetting myself, the most importantperson of all, so I'm standing here in front of the table. Thesupervisor is sitting extremely comfortably with his legs crossed andhis arm hanging over the backrest here like some layabout. And now itreally does begin. The supervisor calls out as if he had to wake me up,in fact he shouts at me, I'm afraid, if I'm to make it clear to you,I'll have to shout as well, and it's nothing more than my name that heshouts out." Miss Bürstner, laughing as she listened to him, laid herforefinger on her mouth so that K. would not shout, but it was too late.K. was too engrossed in his role and slowly called out, "Josef K.!" Itwas not as loud as he had threatened, but nonetheless, once he hadsuddenly called it out, the cry seemed gradually to spread itself allround the room.

There was a series of loud, curt and regular knocks at the door of theadjoining room. Miss Bürstner went pale and laid her hand on her heart.K. was especially startled, as for a moment he had been quite unable tothink of anything other than the events of that morning and the girl forwhom he was performing them. He had hardly pulled himself together whenhe jumped over to Miss Bürstner and took her hand. "Don't be afraid," hewhispered, "I'll put everything right. But who can it be? It's only theliving room next door, nobody sleeps in there." "Yes they do," whisperedMiss Bürstner into K.'s ear, "a nephew of Mrs. Grubach's, a captain inthe army, has been sleeping there since yesterday. There's no other roomfree. I'd forgotten about it too. Why did you have to shout like that?You've made me quite upset." "There is no reason for it," said K., and,now as she sank back onto the cushion, kissed her forehead. "Go away, goaway," she said, hurriedly sitting back up, "get out of here, go, whatis it you want, he's listening at the door, he can hear everything.You're causing me so much trouble!" "I won't go," said K., "until you'vecalmed down a bit. Come over into the other corner of the room, hewon't be able to hear us there." She let him lead her there. "Don'tforget," he said, "although this might be unpleasant for you you're notin any real danger. You know how much esteem Mrs. Grubach has for me,she's the one who will make all the decisions in this, especially as thecaptain is her nephew, but she believes everything I say withoutquestion. What's more, she has borrowed a large sum of money from me andthat makes her dependent on me. I will confirm whatever you say toexplain our being here together, however inappropriate it might be, andI guarantee to make sure that Mrs. Grubach will not only say shebelieves the explanation in public but will believe it truly andsincerely. You will have no need to consider me in any way. If you wishto let it be known that I have attacked you then Mrs. Grubach will beinformed of such and she will believe it without even losing her trustin me, that's how much respect she has for me." Miss Bürstner looked atthe floor in front of her, quiet and a little sunk in on herself. "Whywould Mrs. Grubach not believe that I've attacked you?" added K. Helooked at her hair in front of him, parted, bunched down, reddish andfirmly held in place. He thought she would look up at him, but withoutchanging her manner she said, "Forgive me, but it was the suddenness ofthe knocking that startled me so much, not so much what the consequencesof the captain being here might be. It was all so quiet after you'dshouted, and then there was the knocking, that's what made me soshocked, and I was sitting right by the door, the knocking was rightnext to me. Thank you for your suggestions, but I won't accept them. Ican bear the responsibility for anything that happens in my room myself,and I can do so with anyone. I'm surprised you don't realise just howinsulting your suggestions are and what they imply about me, although Icertainly acknowledge your good intentions. But now, please go, leave mealone, I need you to go now even more than I did earlier. The couple ofminutes you asked for have grown into half an hour, more than half anhour now." K. took hold of her hand, and then of her wrist, "You're notcross with me, though?" he said. She pulled her hand away and answered,"No, no, I'm never cross with anyone." He grasped her wrist once more,she tolerated it now and, in that way, led him to the door. He hadfully intended to leave. But when he reached the door he came to a haltas if he hadn't expected to find a door there, Miss Bürstner made use ofthat moment to get herself free, open the door, slip out into thehallway and gently say to K. from there, "Now, come along, please.Look," she pointed to the captain's door, from under which there was alight shining, "he's put a light on and he's laughing at us." "Alright,I'm coming," said K., moved forward, took hold of her, kissed her onthe mouth and then over her whole face like a thirsty animal lappingwith its tongue when it eventually finds water. He finally kissed her onher neck and her throat and left his lips pressed there for a long time.He did not look up until there was a noise from the captain's room."I'll go now," he said, he wanted to address Miss Bürstner by herChristian name, but did not know it. She gave him a tired nod, offeredhim her hand to kiss as she turned away as if she did not know what shewas doing, and went back into her room with her head bowed. A shortwhile later, K. was lying in his bed. He very soon went to sleep, butbefore he did he thought a little while about his behaviour, he wassatisfied with it but felt some surprise that he was not more satisfied;he was seriously worried about Miss Bürstner because of the captain.

Chapter Two

First Cross-examination

K. was informed by telephone that there would be a small hearingconcerning his case the following Sunday. He was made aware that thesecross examinations would follow one another regularly, perhaps not everyweek but quite frequently. On the one hand it was in everyone's interestto bring proceedings quickly to their conclusion, but on the other handevery aspect of the examinations had to be carried out thoroughlywithout lasting too long because of the associated stress. For thesereasons, it had been decided to hold a series of brief examinationsfollowing on one after another. Sunday had been chosen as the day forthe hearings so that K. would not be disturbed in his professional work.It was assumed that he would be in agreement with this, but if he wishedfor another date then, as far as possible, he would be accommodated.Cross-examinations could even be held in the night, for instance, but K.would probably not be fresh enough at that time. Anyway, as long as K.made no objection, the hearing would be left on Sundays. It was a matterof course that he would have to appear without fail, there was probablyno need to point this out to him. He would be given the number of thebuilding where he was to present himself, which was in a street in asuburb well away from the city centre which K. had never been to before.

Once he had received this notice, K. hung up the receiver without givingan answer; he had decided immediately to go there that Sunday, it wascertainly necessary, proceedings had begun and he had to face up to it,and this first examination would probably also be the last. He was stillstanding in thought by the telephone when he heard the voice of thedeputy director behind him—he wanted to use the telephone but K. stoodin his way. "Bad news?" asked the deputy director casually, not in orderto find anything out but just to get K. away from the device. "No, no,"said K., he stepped to one side but did not go away entirely. The deputydirector picked up the receiver and, as he waited for his connection,turned away from it and said to K., "One question, Mr. K.: Would youlike to give me the pleasure of joining me on my sailing boat on Sundaymorning? There's quite a few people coming, you're bound to know someof them. One of them is Hasterer, the state attorney. Would you like tocome along? Do come along!" K. tried to pay attention to what thedeputy director was saying. It was of no small importance for him, asthis invitation from the deputy director, with whom he had never got onvery well, meant that he was trying to improve his relations with him.It showed how important K. had become in the bank and how its secondmost important official seemed to value his friendship, or at least hisimpartiality. He was only speaking at the side of the telephone receiverwhile he waited for his connection, but in giving this invitation thedeputy director was humbling himself. But K. would have to humiliate hima second time as a result, he said, "Thank you very much, but I'm afraidI will have no time on Sunday, I have a previous obligation." "Pity,"said the deputy director, and turned to the telephone conversation thathad just been connected. It was not a short conversation, but K.remained standing confused by the instrument all the time it was goingon. It was only when the deputy director hung up that he was shockedinto awareness and said, in order to partially excuse his standing therefor no reason, "I've just received a telephone call, there's somewhere Ineed to go, but they forgot to tell me what time." "Ask them then," saidthe deputy director. "It's not that important," said K., although inthat way his earlier excuse, already weak enough, was made even weaker.As he went, the deputy director continued to speak about other things.K. forced himself to answer, but his thoughts were mainly about thatSunday, how it would be best to get there for nine o'clock in themorning as that was the time that courts always start work on weekdays.

The weather was dull on Sunday. K. was very tired, as he had stayed outdrinking until late in the night celebrating with some of the regulars,and he had almost overslept. He dressed hurriedly, without the time tothink and assemble the various plans he had worked out during the week.With no breakfast, he rushed to the suburb he had been told about. Oddlyenough, although he had little time to look around him, he came acrossthe three bank officials involved in his case, Rabensteiner, Kullich andKaminer. The first two were travelling in a tram that went across K.'sroute, but Kaminer sat on the terrace of a café and leant curiouslyover the wall as K. came over. All of them seemed to be looking at him,surprised at seeing their superior running; it was a kind of pride thatmade K. want to go on foot, this was his affair and the idea of any helpfrom strangers, however slight, was repulsive to him, he also wanted toavoid asking for anyone's help because that would initiate them into theaffair even if only slightly. And after all, he had no wish at all tohumiliate himself before the committee by being too punctual. Anyway,now he was running so that he would get there by nine o'clock if at allpossible, even though he had no appointment for this time.

He had thought that he would recognise the building from a distance bysome kind of sign, without knowing exactly what the sign would looklike, or from some particular kind of activity outside the entrance. K.had been told that the building was in Juliusstrasse, but when he stoodat the street's entrance it consisted on each side of almost nothing butmonotonous, grey constructions, tall blocks of flats occupied by poorpeople. Now, on a Sunday morning, most of the windows were occupied, menin their shirtsleeves leant out smoking, or carefully and gently heldsmall children on the sills. Other windows were piled up with bedding,above which the dishevelled head of a woman would briefly appear. Peoplecalled out to each other across the street, one of the calls provoked aloud laugh about K. himself. It was a long street, and spaced evenlyalong it were small shops below street level, selling various kinds offoodstuffs, which you reached by going down a few steps. Women went inand out of them or stood chatting on the steps. A fruitmonger, takinghis goods up to the windows, was just as inattentive as K. and nearlyknocked him down with his cart. Just then, a gramophone, which in betterparts of town would have been seen as worn out, began to play somemurderous tune.

K. went further into the street, slowly, as if he had plenty of timenow, or as if the examining magistrate were looking at him from one ofthe windows and therefore knew that K. had found his way there. It wasshortly after nine. The building was quite far down the street, itcovered so much area it was almost extraordinary, and the gateway inparticular was tall and long. It was clearly intended for deliverywagons belonging to the various warehouses all round the yard which werenow locked up and carried the names of companies some of which K. knewfrom his work at the bank. In contrast with his usual habits, heremained standing a while at the entrance to the yard taking in allthese external details. Near him, there was a bare-footed man sitting ona crate and reading a newspaper. There were two lads swinging on a handcart. In front of a pump stood a weak, young girl in a bedjacket who, asthe water flowed into her can, looked at K. There was a piece of ropestretched between two windows in a corner of the yard, with some washinghanging on it to dry. A man stood below it calling out instructions todirect the work being done.

K. went over to the stairway to get to the room where the hearing was totake place, but then stood still again as besides these steps he couldsee three other stairway entrances, and there also seemed to be a smallpassageway at the end of the yard leading into a second yard. Itirritated him that he had not been given more precise directions to theroom, it meant they were either being especially neglectful with him orespecially indifferent, and he decided to make that clear to them veryloudly and very unambiguously. In the end he decided to climb up thestairs, his thoughts playing on something that he remembered thepoliceman, Willem, saying to him; that the court is attracted by theguilt, from which it followed that the courtroom must be on the stairwaythat K. selected by chance.

As he went up he disturbed a large group of children playing on thestairs who looked at him as he stepped through their rows. "Next time Icome here," he said to himself, "I must either bring sweets with me tomake them like me or a stick to hit them with." Just before he reachedthe first landing he even had to wait a little while until a ball hadfinished its movement, two small lads with sly faces like grown-upscoundrels held him by his trouser-legs until it had; if he were toshake them off he would have to hurt them, and he was afraid of whatnoise they would make by shouting.

On the first floor, his search began for real. He still felt unable toask for the investigating committee, and so he invented a joiner calledLanz—that name occurred to him because the captain, Mrs. Grubach'snephew, was called Lanz—so that he could ask at every flat whether Lanzthe joiner lived there and thus obtain a chance to look into the rooms.It turned out, though, that that was mostly possible without furtherado, as almost all the doors were left open and the children ran in andout. Most of them were small, one-windowed rooms where they also did thecooking. Many women held babies in one arm and worked at the stove withthe other. Half grown girls, who seemed to be dressed in just theirpinafores worked hardest running to and fro. In every room, the bedswere still in use by people who were ill, or still asleep, or peoplestretched out on them in their clothes. K. knocked at the flats wherethe doors were closed and asked whether Lanz the joiner lived there. Itwas usually a woman who opened the door, heard the enquiry and turned tosomebody in the room who would raise himself from the bed. "Thegentleman's asking if a joiner called Lanz, lives here." "A joiner,called Lanz?" he would ask from the bed." "That's right," K. would say,although it was clear that the investigating committee was not to befound there, and so his task was at an end. There were many who thoughtit must be very important for K. to find Lanz the joiner and thoughtlong about it, naming a joiner who was not called Lanz or giving a namethat had some vague similarity with Lanz, or they asked neighbours oraccompanied K. to a door a long way away where they thought someone ofthat sort might live in the back part of the building or where someonewould be who could advise K. better than they could themselves. K.eventually had to give up asking if he did not want to be led all roundfrom floor to floor in this way. He regretted his initial plan, whichhad at first seemed so practical to him. As he reached the fifth floor,he decided to give up the search, took his leave of a friendly, youngworker who wanted to lead him on still further and went down the stairs.But then the thought of how much time he was wasting made him cross, hewent back again and knocked at the first door on the fifth floor. Thefirst thing he saw in the small room was a large clock on the wall whichalready showed ten o'clock. "Is there a joiner called Lanz who liveshere?" he asked. "Pardon?" said a young woman with black, shining eyeswho was, at that moment, washing children's underclothes in a bucket.She pointed her wet hand towards the open door of the adjoining room.

K. thought he had stepped into a meeting. A medium sized, two windowedroom was filled with the most diverse crowd of people—nobody paid anyattention to the person who had just entered. Close under its ceiling itwas surrounded by a gallery which was also fully occupied and where thepeople could only stand bent down with their heads and their backstouching the ceiling. K., who found the air too stuffy, stepped outagain and said to the young woman, who had probably misunderstood whathe had said, "I asked for a joiner, someone by the name of Lanz." "Yes,"said the woman, "please go on in." K. would probably not have followedher if the woman had not gone up to him, taken hold of the door handleand said, "I'll have to close the door after you, no-one else will beallowed in." "Very sensible," said K., "but it's too full already." Butthen he went back in anyway. He passed through between two men who weretalking beside the door—one of them held both hands far out in front ofhimself making the movements of counting out money, the other looked himclosely in the eyes—and someone took him by the hand. It was a small,red-faced youth. "Come in, come in," he said. K. let himself be led byhim, and it turned out that there was—surprisingly in a densely packedcrowd of people moving to and fro—a narrow passage which may have beenthe division between two factions; this idea was reinforced by the factthat in the first few rows to the left and the right of him there washardly any face looking in his direction, he saw nothing but the backsof people directing their speech and their movements only towardsmembers of their own side. Most of them were dressed in black, in old,long, formal frock coats that hung down loosely around them. Theseclothes were the only thing that puzzled K., as he would otherwise havetaken the whole assembly for a local political meeting.

At the other end of the hall where K. had been led there was a littletable set at an angle on a very low podium which was as overcrowded aseverywhere else, and behind the table, near the edge of the podium, sata small, fat, wheezing man who was talking with someone behind him. Thissecond man was standing with his legs crossed and his elbows on thebackrest of the chair, provoking much laughter. From time to time hethrew his arm in the air as if doing a caricature of someone. The youthwho was leading K. had some difficulty in reporting to the man. He hadalready tried twice to tell him something, standing on tiptoe, butwithout getting the man's attention as he sat there above him. It wasonly when one of the people up on the podium drew his attention to theyouth that the man turned to him and leant down to hear what it was hequietly said. Then he pulled out his watch and quickly looked over at K."You should have been here one hour and five minutes ago," he said. K.was going to give him a reply but had no time to do so, as hardly hadthe man spoken than a general muttering arose all over the right handside of the hall. "You should have been here one hour and five minutesago," the man now repeated, raising his voice this time, and quicklylooked round the hall beneath him. The muttering also became immediatelylouder and, as the man said nothing more, died away only gradually. Nowthe hall was much quieter than when K. had entered. Only the people upin the gallery had not stopped passing remarks. As far as could bedistinguished, up in the half-darkness, dust and haze, they seemed to beless well dressed than those below. Many of them had brought pillowsthat they had put between their heads and the ceiling so that they wouldnot hurt themselves pressed against it.

K. had decided he would do more watching than talking, so he did notdefend himself for supposedly having come late, and simply said, "Wellmaybe I have arrived late, I'm here now." There followed loud applause,once more from the right hand side of the hall. Easy people to get onyour side, thought K., and was bothered only by the quiet from the lefthand side which was directly behind him and from which there wasapplause from only a few individuals. He wondered what he could say toget all of them to support him together or, if that were not possible,to at least get the support of the others for a while.

"Yes," said the man, "but I'm now no longer under any obligation to hearyour case"—there was once more a muttering, but this time it wasmisleading as the man waved the people's objections aside with his handand continued—"I will, however, as an exception, continue with ittoday. But you should never arrive late like this again. And now, stepforward!" Someone jumped down from the podium so that there would be aplace free for K., and K. stepped up onto it. He stood pressed closelyagainst the table, the press of the crowd behind him was so great thathe had to press back against it if he did not want to push the judge'sdesk down off the podium and perhaps the judge along with it.

The judge, however, paid no attention to that but sat very comfortablyon his chair and, after saying a few words to close his discussion withthe man behind him, reached for a little note book, the only item on hisdesk. It was like an old school exercise book and had become quitemisshapen from much thumbing. "Now then," said the judge, thumbingthrough the book. He turned to K. with the tone of someone who knows hisfacts and said, "you are a house painter?" "No," said K., "I am thechief clerk in a large bank." This reply was followed by laughter amongthe right hand faction down in the hall, it was so hearty that K.couldn't stop himself joining in with it. The people supportedthemselves with their hands on their knees and shook as if suffering aserious attack of coughing. Even some of those in the gallery werelaughing. The judge had become quite cross but seemed to have no powerover those below him in the hall, he tried to reduce what harm had beendone in the gallery and jumped up threatening them, his eyebrows, untilthen hardly remarkable, pushed themselves up and became big, black andbushy over his eyes.

The left hand side of the hall was still quiet, though, the people stoodthere in rows with their faces looking towards the podium listening towhat was being said there, they observed the noise from the other sideof the hall with the same quietness and even allowed some individualsfrom their own ranks, here and there, to go forward into the otherfaction. The people in the left faction were not only fewer in numberthan the right but probably were no more important than them, althoughtheir behaviour was calmer and that made it seem like they were. When K.now began to speak he was convinced he was doing it in the same way asthem.

"Your question, My Lord, as to whether I am a house painter—in facteven more than that, you did not ask at all but merely imposed it onme—is symptomatic of the whole way these proceedings against me arebeing carried out. Perhaps you will object that there are no proceedingsagainst me. You will be quite right, as there are proceedings only if Iacknowledge that there are. But, for the moment, I do acknowledge it,out of pity for yourselves to a large extent. It's impossible not toobserve all this business without feeling pity. I don't say things arebeing done without due care but I would like to make it clear that it isI who make the acknowledgement."

K. stopped speaking and looked down into the hall. He had spokensharply, more sharply than he had intended, but he had been quite right.It should have been rewarded with some applause here and there buteverything was quiet, they were all clearly waiting for what wouldfollow, perhaps the quietness was laying the ground for an outbreak ofactivity that would bring this whole affair to an end. It was somewhatdisturbing that just then the door at the end of the hall opened, theyoung washerwoman, who seemed to have finished her work, came in and,despite all her caution, attracted the attention of some of the peoplethere. It was only the judge who gave K. any direct pleasure, as heseemed to have been immediately struck by K.'s words. Until then, he hadlistened to him standing, as K.'s speech had taken him by surprise whilehe was directing his attention to the gallery. Now, in the pause, he satdown very slowly, as if he did not want anyone to notice. He took outthe notebook again, probably so that he could give the impression ofbeing calmer.

"That won't help you, sir," continued K., "even your little book willonly confirm what I say." K. was satisfied to hear nothing but his ownquiet words in this room full of strangers, and he even dared casuallyto pick up the examining judge's notebook and, touching it only with thetips of his fingers as if it were something revolting, lifted it in theair, holding it just by one of the middle pages so that the others oneach side of it, closely written, blotted and yellowing, flapped down."Those are the official notes of the examining judge," he said, and letthe notebook fall down onto the desk. "You can read in your book as muchas you like, sir, I really don't have anything in this charge book to beafraid of, even though I don't have access to it as I wouldn't want itin my hand, I can only touch it with two fingers." The judge grabbed thenotebook from where it had fallen on the desk—which could only havebeen a sign of his deep humiliation, or at least that is how it musthave been perceived—tried to tidy it up a little, and held it once morein front of himself in order to read from it.

The people in the front row looked up at him, showing such tension ontheir faces that he looked back down at them for some time. Every one ofthem was an old man, some of them with white beards. Could they perhapsbe the crucial group who could turn the whole assembly one way or theother. They had sunk into a state of motionlessness while K. gave hisoration, and it had not been possible to raise them from this passivityeven when the judge was being humiliated. "What has happened to me,"continued K., with less of the vigour he had had earlier, he continuallyscanned the faces in the first row, and this gave his address a somewhatnervous and distracted character, "what has happened to me is not justan isolated case. If it were it would not be of much importance as it'snot of much importance to me, but it is a symptom of proceedings whichare carried out against many. It's on behalf of them that I stand herenow, not for myself alone."

Without having intended it, he had raised his voice. Somewhere in thehall, someone raised his hands and applauded him shouting, "Bravo! Whynot then? Bravo! Again I say, Bravo!" Some of the men in the first rowgroped around in their beards, none of them looked round to see who wasshouting. Not even K. thought him of any importance but it did raise hisspirits; he no longer thought it at all necessary that all of those inthe hall should applaud him, it was enough if the majority of them beganto think about the matter and if only one of them, now and then, waspersuaded.

"I'm not trying to be a successful orator," said K. after this thought,"that's probably more than I'm capable of anyway. I'm sure the examiningjudge can speak far better than I can, it is part of his job after all.All that I want is a public discussion of a public wrong. Listen: tendays ago I was placed under arrest, the arrest itself is something Ilaugh about but that's beside the point. They came for me in the morningwhen I was still in bed. Maybe the order had been given to arrest somehouse painter—that seems possible after what the judge hassaid—someone who is as innocent as I am, but it was me they chose.There were two police thugs occupying the next room. They could not havetaken better precautions if I had been a dangerous robber. And thesepolicemen were unprincipled riff-raff, they talked at me till I was sickof it, they wanted bribes, they wanted to trick me into giving them myclothes, they wanted money, supposedly so that they could bring me mybreakfast after they had blatantly eaten my own breakfast in front of myeyes. And even that was not enough. I was led in front of the supervisorin another room. This was the room of a lady who I have a lot of respectfor, and I was forced to look on while the supervisor and the policemenmade quite a mess of this room because of me, although not through anyfault of mine. It was not easy to stay calm, but I managed to do so andwas completely calm when I asked the supervisor why it was that I wasunder arrest. If he were here he would have to confirm what I say. I cansee him now, sitting on the chair belonging to that lady I mentioned—apicture of dull-witted arrogance. What do you think he answered? Whathe told me, gentlemen, was basically nothing at all; perhaps he reallydid know nothing, he had placed me under arrest and was satisfied. Infact he had done more than that and brought three junior employees fromthe bank where I work into the lady's room; they had made themselvesbusy interfering with some photographs that belonged to the lady andcausing a mess. There was, of course, another reason for bringing theseemployees; they, just like my landlady and her maid, were expected tospread the news of my arrest and damage my public reputation and inparticular to remove me from my position at the bank. Well they didn'tsucceed in any of that, not in the slightest, even my landlady, who isquite a simple person—and I will give you here her name in fullrespect, her name is Mrs. Grubach—even Mrs. Grubach was understandingenough to see that an arrest like this has no more significance than anattack carried out on the street by some youths who are not kept underproper control. I repeat, this whole affair has caused me nothing butunpleasantness and temporary irritation, but could it not also have hadsome far worse consequences?"

K. broke off here and looked at the judge, who said nothing. As he didso he thought he saw the judge use a movement of his eyes to give a signto someone in the crowd. K. smiled and said, "And now the judge, rightnext to me, is giving a secret sign to someone among you. There seems tobe someone among you who is taking directions from above. I don't knowwhether the sign is meant to produce booing or applause, but I'll resisttrying to guess what its meaning is too soon. It really doesn't matterto me, and I give his lordship the judge my full and public permissionto stop giving secret signs to his paid subordinate down there and givehis orders in words instead; let him just say 'Boo now!,' and then thenext time 'Clap now!'"

Whether it was embarrassment or impatience, the judge rocked backwardsand forwards on his seat. The man behind him, whom he had been talkingwith earlier, leant forward again, either to give him a few generalwords of encouragement or some specific piece of advice. Below them inthe hall the people talked to each other quietly but animatedly. The twofactions had earlier seemed to hold views strongly opposed to each otherbut now they began to intermingle, a few individuals pointed up at K.,others pointed at the judge. The air in the room was fuggy and extremelyoppressive, those who were standing furthest away could hardly even beseen through it. It must have been especially troublesome for thosevisitors who were in the gallery, as they were forced to quietly askthe participants in the assembly what exactly was happening, albeitwith timid glances at the judge. The replies they received were just asquiet, and given behind the protection of a raised hand.

"I have nearly finished what I have to say," said K., and as there wasno bell available he struck the desk with his fist in a way thatstartled the judge and his advisor and made them look up from eachother. "None of this concerns me, and I am therefore able to make a calmassessment of it, and, assuming that this so-called court is of any realimportance, it will be very much to your advantage to listen to what Ihave to say. If you want to discuss what I say, please don't bother towrite it down until later on, I don't have any time to waste and I'llsoon be leaving."

There was immediate silence, which showed how well K. was in control ofthe crowd. There were no shouts among them as there had been at thestart, no-one even applauded, but if they weren't already persuaded theyseemed very close to it.

K. was pleased at the tension among all the people there as theylistened to him, a rustling rose from the silence which was moreinvigorating than the most ecstatic applause could have been. "There isno doubt," he said quietly, "that there is some enormous organisationdetermining what is said by this court. In my case this includes myarrest and the examination taking place here today, an organisation thatemploys policemen who can be bribed, oafish supervisors and judges ofwhom nothing better can be said than that they are not as arrogant assome others. This organisation even maintains a high-level judiciaryalong with its train of countless servants, scribes, policemen and allthe other assistance that it needs, perhaps even executioners andtorturers—I'm not afraid of using those words. And what, gentlemen, isthe purpose of this enormous organisation. Its purpose is to arrestinnocent people and wage pointless prosecutions against them which, asin my case, lead to no result. How are we to avoid those in officebecoming deeply corrupt when everything is devoid of meaning? That isimpossible, not even the highest judge would be able to achieve that forhimself. That is why policemen try to steal the clothes off the back ofthose they arrest, that is why supervisors break into the homes ofpeople they do not know, that is why innocent people are humiliated infront of crowds rather than being given a proper trial. The policemenonly talked about the warehouses where they put the property of thosethey arrest, I would like to see these warehouses where the hard wonpossessions of people under arrest is left to decay, if, that is, it'snot stolen by the thieving hands of the warehouse workers."

K. was interrupted by a screeching from the far end of the hall, heshaded his eyes to see that far, as the dull light of day made the smokewhitish and hard to see through. It was the washerwoman whom K. hadrecognised as a likely source of disturbance as soon as she had entered.It was hard to see now whether it was her fault or not. K. could onlysee that a man had pulled her into a corner by the door and was pressinghimself against her. But it was not her who was screaming, but the man,he had opened his mouth wide and looked up at the ceiling. A smallcircle had formed around the two of them, the visitors near him in thegallery seemed delighted that the serious tone K. had introduced intothe gathering had been disturbed in this way. K.'s first thought was torun over there, and he also thought that everyone would want to bringthings back into order there or at least to make the pair leave theroom, but the first row of people in front of him stayed were they were,no-one moved and no-one let K. through. On the contrary, they stood inhis way, old men held out their arms in front of him and a hand fromsomewhere—he did not have the time to turn round—took hold of hiscollar. K., by this time, had forgotten about the pair, it seemed to himthat his freedom was being limited as if his arrest was being takenseriously, and, without any thought for what he was doing, he jumpeddown from the podium. Now he stood face to face with the crowd. Had hejudged the people properly? Had he put too much faith in the effect ofhis speech? Had they been putting up a pretence all the time he hadbeen speaking, and now that he came to the end and to what must follow,were they tired of pretending? What faces they were, all around him!Dark, little eyes flickered here and there, cheeks drooped down like ondrunken men, their long beards were thin and stiff, if they took hold ofthem it was more like they were making their hands into claws, not as ifthey were taking hold of their own beards. But underneath thosebeards—and this was the real discovery made by K.—there were badges ofvarious sizes and colours shining on the collars of their coats. As faras he could see, every one of them was wearing one of these badges. Allof them belonged to the same group, even though they seemed to bedivided to the right and the left of him, and when he suddenly turnedround he saw the same badge on the collar of the examining judge whocalmly looked down at him with his hands in his lap. "So," called outK., throwing his arms in the air as if this sudden realisation neededmore room, "all of you are working for this organisation, I see now thatyou are all the very bunch of cheats and liars I've just been speakingabout, you've all pressed yourselves in here in order to listen in andsnoop on me, you gave the impression of having formed into factions, oneof you even applauded me to test me out, and you wanted to learn how totrap an innocent man! Well, I hope you haven't come here for nothing, Ihope you've either had some fun from someone who expected you to defendhis innocence or else—let go of me or I'll hit you," shouted K. to aquivery old man who had pressed himself especially close to him—"orelse that you've actually learned something. And so I wish you good luckin your trade." He briskly took his hat from where it lay on the edge ofthe table and, surrounded by a silence caused perhaps by thecompleteness of their surprise, pushed his way to the exit. However, theexamining judge seems to have moved even more quickly than K., as he waswaiting for him at the doorway. "One moment," he said. K. stood where hewas, but looked at the door with his hand already on its handle ratherthan at the judge. "I merely wanted to draw your attention," said thejudge, "to something you seem not yet to be aware of: today, you haverobbed yourself of the advantages that a hearing of this sort alwaysgives to someone who is under arrest." K. laughed towards the door. "Youbunch of louts," he called, "you can keep all your hearings as a presentfrom me," then opened the door and hurried down the steps. Behind him,the noise of the assembly rose as it became lively once more andprobably began to discuss these events as if making a scientific studyof them.

Chapter Three

In the empty Courtroom—The Student—The Offices

Every day over the following week, K. expected another summons toarrive, he could not believe that his rejection of any more hearings hadbeen taken literally, and when the expected summons really had not comeby Saturday evening he took it to mean that he was expected, withoutbeing told, to appear at the same place at the same time. So on Sunday,he set out once more in the same direction, going without hesitation upthe steps and through the corridors; some of the people remembered himand greeted him from their doorways, but he no longer needed to askanyone the way and soon arrived at the right door. It was opened as soonas he knocked and, paying no attention to the woman he had seen lasttime who was standing at the doorway, he was about to go straight intothe adjoining room when she said to him "There's no session today.""What do you mean; no session?" he asked, unable to believe it. But thewoman persuaded him by opening the door to the next room. It was indeedempty, and looked even more dismal empty than it had the previousSunday. On the podium stood the table exactly as it had been before witha few books laying on it. "Can I have a look at those books?" asked K.,not because he was especially curious but so that he would not have comefor nothing. "No," said the woman as she re-closed the door, "that's notallowed. Those books belong to the examining judge." "I see," said K.,and nodded, "those books must be law books, and that's how this courtdoes things, not only to try people who are innocent but even to trythem without letting them know what's going on." "I expect you'reright," said the woman, who had not understood exactly what he meant."I'd better go away again, then," said K. "Should I give a message tothe examining judge?" asked the woman. "Do you know him, then?" asked K."Of course I know him," said the woman, "my husband is the court usher."It was only now that K. noticed that the room, which before had heldnothing but a wash-tub, had been fitted out as a living room. The womansaw how surprised he was and said, "Yes, we're allowed to live here aswe like, only we have to clear the room out when the court's in session.There's lots of disadvantages to my husband's job." "It's not so muchthe room that surprises me," said K., looking at her crossly, "it's yourbeing married that shocks me." "Are you thinking about what happenedlast time the court was in session, when I disturbed what you weresaying?" asked the woman. "Of course," said K., "it's in the past nowand I've nearly forgotten about it, but at the time it made me furious.And now you tell me yourself that you are a married woman." "It wasn'tany disadvantage for you to have your speech interrupted. The way theytalked about you after you'd gone was really bad." "That could well be,"said K., turning away, "but it does not excuse you." "There's no-one Iknow who'd hold it against me," said the woman. "Him, who put his armsaround me, he's been chasing after me for a long time. I might not bevery attractive for most people, but I am for him. I've got noprotection from him, even my husband has had to get used to it; if hewants to keep his job he's got to put up with it as that man's a studentand he'll almost certainly be very powerful later on. He's always afterme, he'd only just left when you arrived." "That fits in with everythingelse," said K., "I'm not surprised." "Do you want to make things a bitbetter here?" the woman asked slowly, watching him as if she were sayingsomething that could be as dangerous for K. as for herself. "That's whatI thought when I heard you speak, I really liked what you said. Mindyou, I only heard part of it, I missed the beginning of it and at theend I was lying on the floor with the student—it's so horrible here,"she said after a pause, and took hold of K.'s hand. "Do you believe youreally will be able to make things better?" K. smiled and twisted hishand round a little in her soft hands. "It's really not my job to makethings better here, as you put it," he said, "and if you said that tothe examining judge he would laugh at you or punish you for it. I reallywould not have become involved in this matter if I could have helped it,and I would have lost no sleep worrying about how this court needs to bemade better. But because I'm told that I have been arrested—and I amunder arrest—it forces me to take some action, and to do so for my ownsake. However, if I can be of some service to you in the process I will,of course, be glad to do so. And I will be glad to do so not only forthe sake of charity but also because you can be of some help to me.""How could I help you, then?" said the woman. "You could, for example,show me the books on the table there." "Yes, certainly," the womancried, and pulled K. along behind her as she rushed to them. The bookswere old and well worn, the cover of one of them had nearly brokenthrough in its middle, and it was held together with a few threads."Everything is so dirty here," said K., shaking his head, and before hecould pick the books up the woman wiped some of the dust off with herapron. K. took hold of the book that lay on top and threw it open, anindecent picture appeared. A man and a woman sat naked on a sofa, thebase intent of whoever drew it was easy to see but he had been sogrossly lacking in skill that all that anyone could really make out werethe man and the woman who dominated the picture with their bodies,sitting in overly upright postures that created a false perspective andmade it difficult for them to approach each other. K. didn't thumbthrough that book any more, but just threw open the next one at itstitle page, it was a novel with the title, What Grete Suffered from herHusband, Hans. "So this is the sort of law book they study here," saidK., "this is the sort of person sitting in judgement over me." "I canhelp you," said the woman, "would you like me to?" "Could you really dothat without placing yourself in danger? You did say earlier on thatyour husband is wholly dependent on his superiors." "I still want tohelp you," said the woman, "come over here, we've got to talk about it.Don't say any more about what danger I'm in, I only fear danger where Iwant to fear it. Come over here." She pointed to the podium and invitedhim to sit down on the step with her. "You've got lovely dark eyes," shesaid after they had sat down, looking up into K.'s face, "people sayI've got nice eyes too, but yours are much nicer. It was the first thingI noticed when you first came here. That's even why I came in here, intothe assembly room, afterwards, I'd never normally do that, I'm notreally even allowed to." So that's what all this is about, thought K.,she's offering herself to me, she's as degenerate as everything elsearound here, she's had enough of the court officials, which isunderstandable I suppose, and so she approaches any stranger and makescompliments about his eyes. With that, K. stood up in silence as if hehad spoken his thoughts out loud and thus explained his action to thewoman. "I don't think you can be of any assistance to me," he said, "tobe of any real assistance you would need to be in contact with highofficials. But I'm sure you only know the lower employees, and there arecrowds of them milling about here. I'm sure you're very familiar withthem and could achieve a great deal through them, I've no doubt of that,but the most that could be done through them would have no bearing atall on the final outcome of the trial. You, on the other hand, wouldlose some of your friends as a result, and I have no wish of that. Carryon with these people in the same way as you have been, as it does seemto me to be something you cannot do without. I have no regrets in sayingthis as, in return for your compliment to me, I also find you ratherattractive, especially when you look at me as sadly as you are now,although you really have no reason to do so. You belong to the people Ihave to combat, and you're very comfortable among them, you're even inlove with the student, or if you don't love him you do at least preferhim to your husband. It's easy to see that from what you've beensaying." "No!" she shouted, remained sitting where she was and graspedK.'s hand, which he failed to pull away fast enough. "You can't go awaynow, you can't go away when you've misjudged me like that! Are youreally capable of going away now? Am I really so worthless that youwon't even do me the favour of staying a little bit longer?" "Youmisunderstand me," said K., sitting back down, "if it's really importantto you for me to stay here then I'll be glad to do so, I have plenty oftime, I came here thinking there would be a trial taking place. All Imeant with what I said just now was to ask you not to do anything on mybehalf in the proceedings against me. But even that is nothing for youto worry about when you consider that there's nothing hanging on theoutcome of this trial, and that, whatever the verdict, I will just laughat it. And that's even presupposing it ever even reaches any conclusion,which I very much doubt. I think it's much more likely that the courtofficials will be too lazy, too forgetful, or even too fearful ever tocontinue with these proceedings and that they will soon be abandoned ifthey haven't been abandoned already. It's even possible that they willpretend to be carrying on with the trial in the hope of receiving alarge bribe, although I can tell you now that that will be quite in vainas I pay bribes to no-one. Perhaps one favour you could do me would beto tell the examining judge, or anyone else who likes to spreadimportant news, that I will never be induced to pay any sort of bribethrough any stratagem of theirs—and I'm sure they have many stratagemsat their disposal. There is no prospect of that, you can tell them thatquite openly. And what's more, I expect they have already noticedthemselves, or even if they haven't, this affair is really not soimportant to me as they think. Those gentlemen would only save some workfor themselves, or at least some unpleasantness for me, which, however,I am glad to endure if I know that each piece of unpleasantness for meis a blow against them. And I will make quite sure it is a blow againstthem. Do you actually know the judge?" "Course I do," said the woman,"he was the first one I thought of when I offered to help you. I didn'tknow he's only a minor official, but if you say so it must be true. Mindyou, I still think the report he gives to his superiors must have someinfluence. And he writes so many reports. You say these officials arelazy, but they're certainly not all lazy, especially this examiningjudge, he writes ever such a lot. Last Sunday, for instance, thatsession went on till the evening. Everyone had gone, but the examiningjudge, he stayed in the hall, I had to bring him a lamp in, all I hadwas a little kitchen lamp but he was very satisfied with it and startedto write straight away. Meantime my husband arrived, he always has theday off on Sundays, we got the furniture back in and got our room sortedout and then a few of the neighbours came, we sat and talked for a bitby a candle, in short, we forgot all about the examining judge and wentto bed. All of a sudden in the night, it must have been quite late inthe night, I wakes up, next to the bed, there's the examining judgeshading the lamp with his hand so that there's no light from it falls onmy husband, he didn't need to be as careful as that, the way my husbandsleeps the light wouldn't have woken him up anyway. I was quite shockedand nearly screamed, but the judge was very friendly, warned me I shouldbe careful, he whispered to me he's been writing all this time, and nowhe's brought me the lamp back, and he'll never forget how I looked whenhe found me there asleep. What I mean, with all this, I just wanted totell you how the examining judge really does write lots of reports,especially about you as questioning you was definitely one of the mainthings on the agenda that Sunday. If he writes reports as long as thatthey must be of some importance. And besides all that, you can see fromwhat happened that the examining judge is after me, and it's right now,when he's first begun to notice me, that I can have a lot of influenceon him. And I've got other proof I mean a lot to him, too. Yesterday, hesent that student to me, the one he really trusts and who he works with,he sent him with a present for me, silk stockings. He said it wasbecause I clear up in the courtroom but that's only a pretence, thatjob's no more than what I'm supposed to do, it's what my husband getspaid for. Nice stockings, they are, look,"—she stretched out her leg,drew her skirt up to her knee and looked, herself, at thestocking—"they are nice stockings, but they're too good for me,really."

She suddenly interrupted herself and lay her hand on K.'s as if shewanted to calm him down, and whispered, "Be quiet, Berthold is watchingus." K. slowly looked up. In the doorway to the courtroom stood a youngman, he was short, his legs were not quite straight, and he continuallymoved his finger round in a short, thin, red beard with which he hopedto make himself look dignified. K. looked at him with some curiosity, hewas the first student he had ever met of the unfamiliar discipline ofjurisprudence, face to face at least, a man who would even most likelyattain high office one day. The student, in contrast, seemed to take nonotice of K. at all, he merely withdrew his finger from his beard longenough to beckon to the woman and went over to the window, the womanleant over to K. and whispered, "Don't be cross with me, please don't,and please don't think ill of me either, I've got to go to him now, tothis horrible man, just look at his bent legs. But I'll come straightback and then I'll go with you if you'll take me, I'll go wherever youwant, you can do whatever you like with me, I'll be happy if I can beaway from here for as long as possible, it'd be best if I could get awayfrom here for good." She stroked K.'s hand once more, jumped up and ranover to the window. Before he realised it, K. grasped for her hand butfailed to catch it. He really was attracted to the woman, and even afterthinking hard about it could find no good reason why he should not givein to her allure. It briefly crossed his mind that the woman meant toentrap him on behalf of the court, but that was an objection he had nodifficulty in fending off. In what way could she entrap him? Was he notstill free, so free that he could crush the entire court whenever hewanted, at least where it concerned him? Could he not have that muchconfidence in himself? And her offer of help sounded sincere, and maybeit wasn't quite worthless. And maybe there was no better revenge againstthe examining judge and his cronies than to take this woman from him andhave her for himself. Maybe then, after much hard work writing dishonestreports about K., the judge would go to the woman's bed late one nightand find it empty. And it would be empty because she belonged to K.,because this woman at the window, this lush, supple, warm body in itssombre clothes of rough, heavy material belonged to him, totally to himand to him alone. Once he had settled his thoughts towards the woman inthis way, he began to find the quiet conversation at the window wastaking too long, he rapped on the podium with his knuckles, and theneven with his fist. The student briefly looked away from the woman toglance at K. over his shoulder but did allow himself to be disturbed, infact he even pressed himself close to the woman and put his arms aroundher. She dropped her head down low as if listening to him carefully, asshe did so he kissed her right on the neck, hardly even interruptingwhat he was saying. K. saw this as confirmation of the tyranny thestudent held over the woman and which she had already complained about,he stood up and walked up and down the room. Glancing sideways at thestudent, he wondered what would be the quickest possible way to get ridof him, and so it was not unwelcome to him when the student, clearlydisturbed by K.'s to-ing and fro-ing which K. had now developed into astamping up and down, said to him, "You don't have to stay here, youknow, if you're getting impatient. You could have gone earlier, no-onewould have missed you. In fact you should have gone, you should haveleft as quickly as possible as soon as I got here." This comment couldhave caused all possible rage to break out between them, but K. alsobore in mind that this was a prospective court official speaking to adisfavoured defendant, and he might well have been taking pride inspeaking in this way. K. remained standing quite close to him and saidwith a smile, "You're quite right, I am impatient, but the easiest wayto settle this impatience would be if you left us. On the other hand,if you've come here to study—you are a student, I hear—I'll be quitehappy to leave the room to you and go away with the woman. I'm sureyou'll still have a lot of study to do before you're made into a judge.It's true that I'm still not all that familiar with your branch ofjurisprudence but I take it it involves a lot more than speakingroughly—and I see you have no shame in doing that extremely well." "Heshouldn't have been allowed to move about so freely," said the student,as if he wanted to give the woman an explanation for K.'s insults, "thatwas a mistake. I've told the examining judge so. He should at least havebeen detained in his room between hearings. Sometimes it's impossible tounderstand what the judge thinks he's doing." "You're wasting yourbreath," said K., then he reached his hand out towards the woman andsaid, "come with me." "So that's it," said the student, "oh no, you'renot going to get her," and with a strength you would not have expectedfrom him, he glanced tenderly at her, lifted her up on one arm and, hisback bent under the weight, ran with her to the door. In this way heshowed, unmistakably, that he was to some extent afraid of K., but henonetheless dared to provoke him still further by stroking and squeezingthe woman's arm with his free hand. K. ran the few steps up to him, butwhen he had reached him and was about to take hold of him and, ifnecessary, throttle him, the woman said, "It's no good, it's theexamining judge who's sent for me, I daren't go with you, this littlebastard ..." and here she ran her hand over the student's face, "thislittle bastard won't let me." "And you don't want to be set free!"shouted K., laying his hand on the student's shoulder, who then snappedat it with his teeth. "No!" shouted the woman, pushing K. away with bothhands, "no, no don't do that, what d'you think you're doing? That'd bethe end of me. Let go of him, please just let go of him. He's onlycarrying out the judge's orders, he's carrying me to him." "Let him takeyou then, and I want to see nothing more of you," said K., enraged byhis disappointment and giving the student a thump in the back so that hebriefly stumbled and then, glad that he had not fallen, immediatelyjumped up all the higher with his burden. K. followed them slowly. Herealised that this was the first unambiguous setback he had sufferedfrom these people. It was of course nothing to worry about, he acceptedthe setback only because he was looking for a fight. If he stayed athome and carried on with his normal life he would be a thousand timessuperior to these people and could get any of them out of his way justwith a kick. And he imagined the most laughable scene possible as anexample of this, if this contemptible student, this inflated child, thisknock-kneed redbeard, if he were kneeling at Elsa's bed wringing hishands and begging for forgiveness. K. so enjoyed imagining this scenethat he decided to take the student along to Elsa with him if ever heshould get the opportunity.

K. was curious to see where the woman would be taken and he hurried overto the door, the student was not likely to carry her through the streetson his arm. It turned out that the journey was far shorter. Directlyopposite the flat there was a narrow flight of wooden steps whichprobably led up to the attic, they turned as they went so that it wasnot possible to see where they ended. The student carried the woman upthese steps, and after the exertions of running with her he was soongroaning and moving very slowly. The woman waved down at K. and byraising and lowering her shoulders she tried to show that she was aninnocent party in this abduction, although the gesture did not show alot of regret. K. watched her without expression like a stranger, hewanted to show neither that he was disappointed nor that he would easilyget over his disappointment.

The two of them had disappeared, but K. remained standing in thedoorway. He had to accept that the woman had not only cheated him butthat she had also lied to him when she said she was being taken to theexamining judge. The examining judge certainly wouldn't be sitting andwaiting in the attic. The wooden stairs would explain nothing to himhowever long he stared at them. Then K. noticed a small piece of papernext to them, went across to it and read, in a childish and unpractisedhand, "Entrance to the Court Offices". Were the court offices here, inthe attic of this tenement, then? If that was how they wereaccommodated it did not attract much respect, and it was some comfortfor the accused to realise how little money this court had at itsdisposal if it had to locate its offices in a place where the tenants ofthe building, who were themselves among the poorest of people, wouldthrow their unneeded junk. On the other hand, it was possible that theofficials had enough money but that they squandered it on themselvesrather than use it for the court's purposes. Going by K.'s experience ofthem so far, that even seemed probable, except that if the court wereallowed to decay in that way it would not just humiliate the accused butalso give him more encouragement than if the court were simply in astate of poverty. K. also now understood that the court was ashamed tosummon those it accused to the attic of this building for the initialhearing, and why it preferred to impose upon them in their own homes.What a position it was that K. found himself in, compared with the judgesitting up in the attic! K., at the bank, had a big office with anante-room, and had an enormous window through which he could look downat the activity in the square. It was true, though, that he had nosecondary income from bribes and fraud, and he couldn't tell a servantto bring him a woman up to the office on his arm. K., however, was quitewilling to do without such things, in this life at least. K. was stilllooking at the notice when a man came up the stairs, looked through theopen door into the living room where it was also possible to see thecourtroom, and finally asked K. whether he had just seen a woman there."You're the court usher, aren't you?" asked K. "That's right," said theman, "oh, yes, you're defendant K., I recognise you now as well. Nice tosee you here." And he offered K. his hand, which was far from what K.had expected. And when K. said nothing, he added, "There's no courtsession planned for today, though." "I know that," said K. as he lookedat the usher's civilian coat which, beside its ordinary buttons,displayed two gilded ones as the only sign of his office and seemed tohave been taken from an old army officer's coat. "I was speaking withyour wife a little while ago. She is no longer here. The student hascarried her off to the examining judge." "Listen to this," said theusher, "they're always carrying her away from me. It's Sunday today, andit's not part of my job to do any work today, but they send me off withsome message which isn't even necessary just to get me away from here.What they do is they send me off not too far away so that I can stillhope to get back on time if I really hurry. So off I go running as fastas I can, shout the message through the crack in the door of the officeI've been sent to, so out of breath they'll hardly be able to understandit, run back here again, but the student's been even faster than Ihave—well he's got less far to go, he's only got to run down the steps.If I wasn't so dependent on them I'd have squashed the student againstthe wall here a long time ago. Right here, next to the sign. I'm alwaysdreaming of doing that. Just here, just above the floor, that's wherehe's crushed onto the wall, his arms stretched out, his fingers spreadapart, his crooked legs twisted round into a circle and blood squirtedout all around him. It's only ever been a dream so far, though." "Isthere nothing else you do?" asked K. with a smile. "Nothing that I knowof," said the usher. "And it's going to get even worse now, up till nowhe's only been carrying her off for himself, now he's started carryingher off for the judge and all, just like I'd always said he would.""Does your wife, then, not share some of the responsibility?" asked K.He had to force himself as he asked this question, as he, too, felt sojealous now. "Course she does," said the usher, "it's more her faultthan theirs. It was her who attached herself to him. All he did, he justchases after any woman. There's five flats in this block alone wherehe's been thrown out after working his way in there. And my wife is thebest looking woman in the whole building, but it's me who's not evenallowed to defend himself." "If that's how things are, then there'snothing that can be done," said K. "Well why not?" asked the usher."He's a coward that student, if he wants to lay a finger on my wife allyou'd have to do is give him such a good hiding he'd never dare do itagain. But I'm not allowed to do that, and nobody else is going to do methe favour as they're all afraid of his power. The only one who could doit is a man like you." "What, how could I do it?" asked K. inastonishment. "Well you're facing a charge, aren't you," said the usher."Yes, but that's all the more reason for me to be afraid. Even if he hasno influence on the outcome of the trial he probably has some on theinitial examination." "Yes, exactly," said the usher, as if K.'s viewhad been just as correct as his own. "Only we don't usually get anytrials heard here with no hope at all." "I am not of the same opinion,"said K., "although that ought not to prevent me from dealing with thestudent if the opportunity arises." "I would be very grateful to you,"said the usher of the court, somewhat formally, not really seeming tobelieve that his highest wish could be fulfilled. "Perhaps," continuedK., "perhaps there are some other officials of yours here, perhaps allof them, who would deserve the same." "Oh yes, yes," said the usher, asif this was a matter of course. Then he looked at K. trustingly which,despite all his friendliness, he had not done until then, and added,"they're always rebelling." But the conversation seemed to have become alittle uncomfortable for him, as he broke it off by saying, "now I haveto report to the office. Would you like to come with me?" "There'snothing for me to do there," said K. "You'd be able to have a look atit. No-one will take any notice of you." "Is it worth seeing then?"asked K. hesitatingly, although he felt very keen to go with him."Well," said the usher, "I thought you'd be interested in it." "Alrightthen," said K. finally, "I'll come with you." And, quicker than theusher himself, he ran up the steps.

At the entrance he nearly fell over, as behind the door there wasanother step. "They don't show much concern for the public," he said."They don't show any concern at all," said the usher, "just look at thewaiting room here." It consisted of a long corridor from which roughlymade doors led out to the separate departments of the attic. There wasno direct source of light but it was not entirely dark as many of thedepartments, instead of solid walls, had just wooden bars reaching up tothe ceiling to separate them from the corridor. The light made its wayin through them, and it was also possible to see individual officialsthrough them as they sat writing at their desks or stood up at thewooden frameworks and watched the people on the corridor through thegaps. There were only a few people in the corridor, probably because itwas Sunday. They were not very impressive. They sat, equally spaced, ontwo rows of long wooden benches which had been placed along both sidesof the corridor. All of them were carelessly dressed although theexpressions on their faces, their bearing, the style of their beards andmany details which were hard to identify showed that they belonged tothe upper classes. There were no coat hooks for them to use, and so theyhad placed their hats under the bench, each probably having followed theexample of the others. When those who were sitting nearest the door sawK. and the usher of the court they stood up to greet them, and when theothers saw that, they also thought they had to greet them, so that asthe two of them went by all the people there stood up. None of themstood properly upright, their backs were bowed, their knees bent, theystood like beggars on the street. K. waited for the usher, who wasfollowing just behind him. "They must all be very dispirited," he said."Yes," said the usher, "they are the accused, everyone you see here hasbeen accused." "Really!" said K. "They're colleagues of mine then." Andhe turned to the nearest one, a tall, thin man with hair that was nearlygrey. "What is it you are waiting for here?" asked K., politely, but theman was startled at being spoken to unexpectedly, which was all the morepitiful to see because the man clearly had some experience of the worldand elsewhere would certainly have been able to show his superiority andwould not have easily given up the advantage he had acquired. Here,though, he did not know what answer to give to such a simple questionand looked round at the others as if they were under some obligation tohelp him, and as if no-one could expect any answer from him without thishelp. Then the usher of the court stepped forward to him and, in orderto calm him down and raise his spirits, said, "The gentleman here's onlyasking what it is you're waiting for. You can give him an answer." Thevoice of the usher was probably familiar to him, and had a better effectthan K.'s. "I'm ... I'm waiting...." he began, and then came to a halt.He had clearly chosen this beginning so that he could give a preciseanswer to the question, but now he didn't know how to continue. Some ofthe others waiting had come closer and stood round the group, the usherof the court said to them, "Get out the way, keep the gangway free."They moved back slightly, but not as far as where they had been sittingbefore. In the meantime, the man whom K. had first approached had pulledhimself together and even answered him with a smile. "A month ago I madesome applications for evidence to be heard in my case, and I'm waitingfor it to be settled." "You certainly seem to be going to a lot ofeffort," said K. "Yes," said the man, "it is my affair after all." "Noteveryone thinks the same way as you do," said K. "I've been indicted aswell but I swear on my soul that I've neither submitted evidence nordone anything else of the sort. Do you really think that's necessary?""I don't really know, exactly," said the man, once more totally unsureof himself; he clearly thought K. was joking with him and thereforeprobably thought it best to repeat his earlier answer in order to avoidmaking any new mistakes. With K. looking at him impatiently, he justsaid, "as far as I'm concerned, I've applied to have this evidenceheard." "Perhaps you don't believe I've been indicted?" asked K. "Oh,please, I certainly do," said the man, stepping slightly to one side,but there was more anxiety in his answer than belief. "You don't believeme then?" asked K., and took hold of his arm, unconsciously prompted bythe man's humble demeanour, and as if he wanted to force him to believehim. But he did not want to hurt the man and had only taken hold of himvery lightly. Nonetheless, the man cried out as if K. had grasped himnot with two fingers but with red hot tongs. Shouting in this ridiculousway finally made K. tired of him, if he didn't believe he was indictedthen so much the better; maybe he even thought K. was a judge. Andbefore leaving, he held him a lot harder, shoved him back onto the benchand walked on. "These defendants are so sensitive, most of them," saidthe usher of the court. Almost all of those who had been waiting had nowassembled around the man who, by now, had stopped shouting and theyseemed to be asking him lots of precise questions about the incident. K.was approached by a security guard, identifiable mainly by his sword, ofwhich the scabbard seemed to be made of aluminium. This greatlysurprised K., and he reached out for it with his hand. The guard hadcome because of the shouting and asked what had been happening. Theusher of the court said a few words to try and calm him down but theguard explained that he had to look into it himself, saluted, andhurried on, walking with very short steps, probably because of gout.

K. didn't concern himself long with the guard or these people,especially as he saw a turning off the corridor, about half way alongit on the right hand side, where there was no door to stop him goingthat way. He asked the usher whether that was the right way to go, theusher nodded, and that is the way that K. went. The usher remainedalways one or two steps behind K., which he found irritating as in aplace like this it could give the impression that he was being drivenalong by someone who had arrested him, so he frequently waited for theusher to catch up, but the usher always remained behind him. In order toput an end to his discomfort, K. finally said, "Now that I've seen whatit looks like here, I'd like to go." "You haven't seen everything yet,"said the usher ingenuously. "I don't want to see everything," said K.,who was also feeling very tired, "I want to go, what is the way to theexit?" "You haven't got lost, have you?" asked the usher in amazement,"you go down this way to the corner, then right down the corridorstraight ahead as far as the door." "Come with me," said K., "show methe way, I'll miss it, there are so many different ways here." "It's theonly way there is," said the usher, who had now started to sound quitereproachful, "I can't go back with you again, I've got to hand in myreport, and I've already lost a lot of time because of you as it is.""Come with me!" K. repeated, now somewhat sharper as if he had finallycaught the usher out in a lie. "Don't shout like that," whispered theusher, "there's offices all round us here. If you don't want to go backby yourself come on a bit further with me or else wait here till I'vesorted out my report, then I'll be glad to go back with you again." "No,no," said K., "I will not wait and you must come with me now." K. hadstill not looked round at anything at all in the room where he foundhimself, and it was only when one of the many wooden doors all aroundhim opened that he noticed it. A young woman, probably summoned by theloudness of K.'s voice, entered and asked, "What is it the gentlemanwants?" In the darkness behind her there was also a man approaching. K.looked at the usher. He had, after all, said that no-one would take anynotice of K., and now there were two people coming, it only needed a fewand everyone in the office would become aware of him and asking forexplanations as to why he was there. The only understandable andacceptable thing to say was that he was accused of something and wantedto know the date of his next hearing, but this was an explanation he didnot want to give, especially as it was not true—he had only come out ofcuriosity. Or else, an explanation even less usable, he could say thathe wanted to ascertain that the court was as revolting on the inside asit was on the outside. And it did seem that he had been quite right inthis supposition, he had no wish to intrude any deeper, he was disturbedenough by what he had seen already, he was not in the right frame ofmind just then to face a high official such as might appear from behindany door, and he wanted to go, either with the usher of the court or, ifneeds be, alone.

But he must have seemed very odd standing there in silence, and theyoung woman and the usher were indeed looking at him as if they thoughthe would go through some major metamorphosis any second which theydidn't want to miss seeing. And in the doorway stood the man whom K. hadnoticed in the background earlier, he held firmly on to the beam abovethe low door swinging a little on the tips of his feet as if becomingimpatient as he watched. But the young woman was the first to recognisethat K.'s behaviour was caused by his feeling slightly unwell, shebrought a chair and asked, "Would you not like to sit down?" K. sat downimmediately and, in order to keep his place better, put his elbows onthe armrests. "You're a little bit dizzy, aren't you?" she asked him.Her face was now close in front of him, it bore the severe expressionthat many young women have just when they're in the bloom of theiryouth. "It's nothing for you to worry about," she said, "that's nothingunusual here, almost everyone gets an attack like that the first timethey come here. This is your first time is it. Yes, it's nothing unusualthen. The sun burns down on the roof and the hot wood makes the air sothick and heavy. It makes this place rather unsuitable for offices,whatever other advantages it might offer. But the air is almostimpossible to breathe on days when there's a lot of business, and that'salmost every day. And when you think that there's a lot of washing putout to dry here as well—and we can't stop the tenants doing that—it'snot surprising you started to feel unwell. But you get used to the airalright in the end. When you're here for the second or third time you'llhardly notice how oppressive the air is. Are you feeling any betternow?" K. made no answer, he felt too embarrassed at being put at themercy of these people by his sudden weakness, and learning the reasonfor feeling ill made him feel not better but a little worse. The girlnoticed it straight away, and to make the air fresher for K., she took awindow pole that was leaning against the wall and pushed open a smallhatch directly above K.'s head that led to the outside. But so much sootfell in that the girl had to immediately close the hatch again and cleanthe soot off K.'s hands with her handkerchief, as K. was too tired to dothat for himself. He would have liked just to sit quietly where he wasuntil he had enough strength to leave, and the less fuss people madeabout him the sooner that would be. But then the girl said, "You can'tstay here, we're in people's way here...." K. looked at her as if to askwhose way they were impeding. "If you like, I can take you to the sickroom," and turning to the man in the doorway said, "please help me." Theman immediately came over to them, but K. did not want to go to the sickroom, that was just what he wanted to avoid, being led further fromplace to place, the further he went the more difficult it must become.So he said, "I am able to walk now," and stood up, shaking afterbecoming used to sitting so comfortably. But then he was unable to stayupright. "I can't manage it," he said shaking his head, and sat downagain with a sigh. He remembered the usher who, despite everything,would have been able to lead him out of there but who seemed to havegone long before. K. looked out between the man and the young woman whowere standing in front of him but was unable to find the usher. "Ithink," said the man, who was elegantly dressed and whose appearance wasmade especially impressive with a grey waistcoat that had two long,sharply tailored points, "the gentleman is feeling unwell because of theatmosphere here, so the best thing, and what he would most prefer, wouldbe not to take him to the sick room but get him out of the officesaltogether." "That's right," exclaimed K., with such joy that he nearlyinterrupted what the man was saying, "I'm sure that'll make me feelbetter straight away, I'm really not that weak, all I need is a littlesupport under my arms, I won't cause you much trouble, it's not such along way anyway, lead me to the door and then I'll sit on the stairs fora while and soon recover, as I don't suffer from attacks like this atall, I'm surprised at it myself. I also work in an office and I'm quiteused to office air, but here it seems to be too strong, you've said soyourselves. So please, be so kind as to help me on my way a little, I'mfeeling dizzy, you see, and it'll make me ill if I stand up by myself."And with that he raised his shoulders to make it easier for the two ofthem to take him by the arms.

The man, however, didn't follow this suggestion but just stood therewith his hands in his trouser pockets and laughed out loud. "There, yousee," he said to the girl, "I was quite right. The gentleman is onlyunwell here, and not in general." The young woman smiled too, butlightly tapped the man's arm with the tips of her fingers as if he hadallowed himself too much fun with K. "So what do you think, then?" saidthe man, still laughing, "I really do want to lead the gentleman out ofhere." "That's alright, then," said the girl, briefly inclining hercharming head. "Don't worry too much about him laughing," said the girlto K., who had become unhappy once more and stared quietly in front ofhimself as if needing no further explanation. "This gentleman—may Iintroduce you?"—(the man gave his permission with a wave of thehand)—"so, this gentleman's job is to give out information. He givesall the information they need to people who are waiting, as our courtand its offices are not very well known among the public he gets askedfor quite a lot. He has an answer for every question, you can try himout if you feel like it. But that's not his only distinction, his otherdistinction is his elegance of dress. We, that's to say all of us whowork in the offices here, we decided that the information-giver wouldhave to be elegantly dressed as he continually has to deal with thelitigants and he's the first one they meet, so he needs to give adignified first impression. The rest of us I'm afraid, as you can seejust by looking at me, dress very badly and old-fashioned; and there'snot much point in spending much on clothes anyway, as we hardly everleave the offices, we even sleep here. But, as I said, we decided thatthe information-giver would have to have nice clothes. As the managementhere is rather peculiar in this respect, and they would get them for us,we had a collection—some of the litigants contributed too—and boughthim these lovely clothes and some others besides. So everything would beready for him to give a good impression, except that he spoils it againby laughing and frightening people." "That's how it is," said the man,mocking her, "but I don't understand why it is that you're explainingall our intimate facts to the gentleman, or rather why it is that you'repressing them on him, as I'm sure he's not all interested. Just look athim sitting there, it's clear he's occupied with his own affairs." K.just did not feel like contradicting him. The girl's intention may havebeen good, perhaps she was under instructions to distract him or to givehim the chance to collect himself, but the attempt had not worked. "Ihad to explain to him why you were laughing," said the girl. "I supposeit was insulting." "I think he would forgive even worse insults if Ifinally took him outside." K. said nothing, did not even look up, hetolerated the two of them negotiating over him like an object, that waseven what suited him best. But suddenly he felt the information-giver'shand on one arm and the young woman's hand on the other. "Up you getthen, weakling," said the information-giver. "Thank you both very much,"said K., pleasantly surprised, as he slowly rose and personally guidedthese unfamiliar hands to the places where he most needed support. Asthey approached the corridor, the girl said quietly into K.'s ear, "Imust seem to think it's very important to show the information-giver ina good light, but you shouldn't doubt what I say, I just want to say thetruth. He isn't hard-hearted. It's not really his job to help litigantsoutside if they're unwell but he's doing it anyway, as you can see. Idon't suppose any of us is hard-hearted, perhaps we'd all like to behelpful, but working for the court offices it's easy for us to give theimpression we are hard-hearted and don't want to help anyone. It makesme quite sad." "Would you not like to sit down here a while?" asked theinformation-giver, there were already in the corridor and just in frontof the defendant whom K. had spoken to earlier. K. felt almost ashamedto be seen by him, earlier he had stood so upright in front of him andnow he had to be supported by two others, his hat was held up by theinformation-giver balanced on outstretched fingers, his hair wasdishevelled and hung down onto the sweat on his forehead. But thedefendant seemed to notice nothing of what was going on and just stoodthere humbly, as if wanting to apologise to the information-giver forbeing there. The information-giver looked past him. "I know," he said,"that my case can't be settled today, not yet, but I've come in anyway,I thought, I thought I could wait here anyway, it's Sunday today, I'vegot plenty of time, and I'm not disturbing anyone here." "There's noneed to be so apologetic," said the information-giver, "it's verycommendable for you to be so attentive. You are taking up space herewhen you don't need to but as long as you don't get in my way I will donothing to stop you following the progress of your case as closely asyou like. When one has seen so many people who shamefully neglect theircases one learns to show patience with people like you. Do sit down.""He's very good with the litigants," whispered the girl. K. nodded, butstarted to move off again when the information-giver repeated, "Wouldyou not like to sit down here a while?" "No," said K., "I don't want torest." He had said that as decisively as he could, but in fact it wouldhave done him a lot of good to sit down. It was as if he were sufferingsea-sickness. He felt as if he were on a ship in a rough sea, as if thewater were hitting against the wooden walls, a thundering from thedepths of the corridor as if the torrent were crashing over it, as ifthe corridor were swaying and the waiting litigants on each side of itrising and sinking. It made the calmness of the girl and the man leadinghim all the more incomprehensible. He was at their mercy, if they let goof him he would fall like a board. Their little eyes glanced here andthere, K. could feel the evenness of their steps but could not do thesame, as from step to step he was virtually being carried. He finallynoticed they were speaking to him but he did not understand them, all heheard was a noise that filled all the space and through which thereseemed to be an unchanging higher note sounding, like a siren. "Louder,"he whispered with his head sunk low, ashamed at having to ask them tospeak louder when he knew they had spoken loudly enough, even if it hadbeen, for him, incomprehensible. At last, a draught of cool air blew inhis face as if a gap had been torn out in the wall in front of him, andnext to him he heard someone say, "First he says he wants to go, andthen you can tell him a hundred times that this is the way out and hedoesn't move." K. became aware that he was standing in front of the wayout, and that the young woman had opened the door. It seemed to him thatall his strength returned to him at once, and to get a foretaste offreedom he stepped straight on to one of the stairs and took his leavethere of his companions, who bowed to him. "Thank you very much," herepeated, shook their hands once more and did not let go until hethought he saw that they found it hard to bear the comparatively freshair from the stairway after being so long used to the air in theoffices. They were hardly able to reply, and the young woman might evenhave fallen over if K. had not shut the door extremely fast. K. thenstood still for a while, combed his hair with the help of a pocketmirror, picked up his hat from the next stair—the information-givermust have thrown it down there—and then he ran down the steps so freshand in such long leaps that the contrast with his previous state nearlyfrightened him. His normally sturdy state of health had never preparedhim for surprises such as this. Did his body want to revolt and causehim a new trial as he was bearing the old one with such little effort?He did not quite reject the idea that he should see a doctor the nexttime he had the chance, but whatever he did—and this was something onwhich he could advise himself—he wanted to spend all Sunday mornings infuture better than he had spent this one.

Chapter Four

Miss Bürstner's Friend

For some time after this, K. found it impossible to exchange even just afew words with Miss Bürstner. He tried to reach her in many and variousways but she always found a way to avoid it. He would come straight homefrom the office, remain in her room without the light on, and sit on thesofa with nothing more to distract him than keeping watch on the emptyhallway. If the maid went by and closed the door of the apparently emptyroom he would get up after a while and open it again. He got up an hourearlier than usual in the morning so that he might perhaps find MissBürstner alone as she went to the office. But none of these effortsbrought any success. Then he wrote her a letter, both to the office andthe flat, attempting once more to justify his behaviour, offered to makewhatever amends he could, promised never to cross whatever boundary shemight set him and begged merely to have the chance to speak to her sometime, especially as he was unable to do anything with Mrs. Grubacheither until he had spoken with Miss Bürstner, he finally informed herthat the following Sunday he would stay in his room all day waiting fora sign from her that there was some hope of his request being fulfilled,or at least that she would explain to him why she could not fulfil iteven though he had promised to observe whatever stipulations she mightmake. The letters were not returned, but there was no answer either.However, on the following Sunday there was a sign that seemed clearenough. It was still early when K. noticed, through the keyhole, thatthere was an unusual level of activity in the hallway which soon abated.A French teacher, although she was German and called Montag, a pale andfebrile girl with a slight limp who had previously occupied a room ofher own, was moving into Miss Bürstner's room. She could be seenshuffling through the hallway for several hours, there was alwaysanother piece of clothing or a blanket or a book that she had forgottenand had to be fetched specially and brought into the new home.

When Mrs. Grubach brought K. his breakfast—ever since the time when shehad made K. so cross she didn't trust the maid to do the slightestjob—he had no choice but to speak to her, for the first time in fivedays. "Why is there so much noise in the hallway today?" he asked as shepoured his coffee out, "Can't something be done about it? Does thisclearing out have to be done on a Sunday?" K. did not look up at Mrs.Grubach, but he saw nonetheless that she seemed to feel some relief asshe breathed in. Even sharp questions like this from Mr. K. sheperceived as forgiveness, or as the beginning of forgiveness. "We're notclearing anything out, Mr. K.," she said, "it's just that Miss Montag ismoving in with Miss Bürstner and is moving her things across." She saidnothing more, but just waited to see how K. would take it and whether hewould allow her to carry on speaking. But K. kept her in uncertainty,took the spoon and pensively stirred his coffee while he remainedsilent. Then he looked up at her and said, "What about the suspicionsyou had earlier about Miss Bürstner, have you given them up?" "Mr. K.,"called Mrs. Grubach, who had been waiting for this very question, as sheput her hands together and held them out towards him. "I just made achance remark and you took it so badly. I didn't have the slightestintention of offending anyone, not you or anyone else. You've known mefor long enough, Mr. K., I'm sure you're convinced of that. You don'tknow how I've been suffering for the past few days! That I should telllies about my tenants! And you, Mr. K., you believed it! And said Ishould give you notice! Give you notice!" At this last outcry, Mrs.Grubach was already choking back her tears, she raised her apron to herface and blubbered out loud.

"Oh, don't cry Mrs. Grubach," said K., looking out the window, he wasthinking only of Miss Bürstner and how she was accepting an unknown girlinto her room. "Now don't cry," he said again as he turned his look backinto the room where Mrs. Grubach was still crying. "I meant no harmeither when I said that. It was simply a misunderstanding between us.That can happen even between old friends sometimes." Mrs. Grubach pulledher apron down to below her eyes to see whether K. really was attemptinga reconciliation. "Well, yes, that's how it is," said K., and as Mrs.Grubach's behaviour indicated that the captain had said nothing he daredto add, "Do you really think, then, that I'd want to make an enemy ofyou for the sake of a girl we hardly know?" "Yes, you're quite right,Mr. K.," said Mrs. Grubach, and then, to her misfortune, as soon as shefelt just a little freer to speak, she added something rather inept. "Ikept asking myself why it was that Mr. K. took such an interest in MissBürstner. Why does he quarrel with me over her when he knows that anycross word from him and I can't sleep that night? And I didn't sayanything about Miss Bürstner that I hadn't seen with my own eyes." K.said nothing in reply, he should have chased her from the room as soonas she had opened her mouth, and he didn't want to do that. He contentedhimself with merely drinking his coffee and letting Mrs. Grubach feelthat she was superfluous. Outside, the dragging steps of Miss Montagcould still be heard as she went from one side of the hallway to theother. "Do you hear that?" asked K. pointing his hand at the door."Yes," said Mrs. Grubach with a sigh, "I wanted to give her some helpand I wanted the maid to help her too but she's stubborn, she wants tomove everything in herself. I wonder at Miss Bürstner. I often feel it'sa burden for me to have Miss Montag as a tenant but Miss Bürstneraccepts her into her room with herself." "There's nothing there for youto worry about," said K., crushing the remains of a sugar lump in hiscup. "Does she cause you any trouble?" "No," said Mrs. Grubach, "initself it's very good to have her there, it makes another room free forme and I can let my nephew, the captain, occupy it. I began to worry hemight be disturbing you when I had to let him live in the living roomnext to you over the last few days. He's not very considerate." "What anidea!" said K. standing up, "there's no question of that. You seem tothink that because I can't stand this to-ing and fro-ing of Miss Montagthat I'm over-sensitive—and there she goes back again." Mrs. Grubachappeared quite powerless. "Should I tell her to leave moving the rest ofher things over till later, then, Mr. K.? If that's what you want I'lldo it immediately." "But she has to move in with Miss Bürstner!" said K."Yes," said Mrs. Grubach, without quite understanding what K. meant. "Soshe has to take her things over there." Mrs. Grubach just nodded. K. wasirritated all the more by this dumb helplessness which, seen from theoutside, could have seemed like a kind of defiance on her part. He beganto walk up and down the room between the window and the door, thusdepriving Mrs. Grubach of the chance to leave, which she otherwiseprobably would have done.

Just as K. once more reached the door, someone knocked at it. It was themaid, to say that Miss Montag would like to have a few words with Mr.K., and therefore requested that he come to the dining room where shewas waiting for him. K. heard the maid out thoughtfully, and then lookedback at the shocked Mrs. Grubach in a way that was almost contemptuous.His look seemed to be saying that K. had been expecting this invitationfor Miss Montag for a long time, and that it was confirmation of thesuffering he had been made to endure that Sunday morning from Mrs.Grubach's tenants. He sent the maid back with the reply that he was onhis way, then he went to the wardrobe to change his coat, and in answerto Mrs. Grubach's gentle whining about the nuisance Miss Montag wascausing merely asked her to clear away the breakfast things. "But you'vehardly touched it," said Mrs. Grubach. "Oh just take it away!" shoutedK. It seemed to him that Miss Montag was mixed up in everything and madeit repulsive to him.

As he went through the hallway he looked at the closed door of MissBürstner's room. But it wasn't there that he was invited, but the diningroom, to which he yanked the door open without knocking.

The room was long but narrow with one window. There was only enoughspace available to put two cupboards at an angle in the corner by thedoor, and the rest of the room was entirely taken up with the longdining table which started by the door and reached all the way to thegreat window, which was thus made almost inaccessible. The table wasalready laid for a large number of people, as on Sundays almost all thetenants ate their dinner here at midday.

When K. entered, Miss Montag came towards him from the window along oneside of the table. They greeted each other in silence. Then Miss Montag,her head unusually erect as always, said, "I'm not sure whether you knowme." K. looked at her with a frown. "Of course I do," he said, "you'vebeen living here with Mrs. Grubach for quite some time now." "But I getthe impression you don't pay much attention to what's going on in thelodging house," said Miss Montag. "No," said K. "Would you not like tosit down?" said Miss Montag. In silence, the two of them drew chairs outfrom the farthest end of the table and sat down facing each other. ButMiss Montag stood straight up again as she had left her handbag on thewindow sill and went to fetch it; she shuffled down the whole length ofthe room. When she came back, the handbag lightly swinging, she said,"I'd like just to have a few words with you on behalf of my friend. Shewould have come herself, but she's feeling a little unwell today.Perhaps you'll be kind enough to forgive her and listen to me instead.There's anyway nothing that she could have said that I won't. On thecontrary, in fact, I think I can say even more than her because I'mrelatively impartial. Would you not agree?" "What is there to say,then?" answered K., who was tired of Miss Montag continuously watchinghis lips. In that way she took control of what he wanted to say beforehe said it. "Miss Bürstner clearly refuses to grant me the personalmeeting that I asked her for." "That's how it is," said Miss Montag, "orrather, that's not at all how it is, the way you put it is remarkablysevere. Generally speaking, meetings are neither granted nor theopposite. But it can be that meetings are considered unnecessary, andthat's how it is here. Now, after your comment, I can speak openly. Youasked my friend, verbally or in writing, for the chance to speak withher. Now my friend is aware of your reasons for asking for thismeeting—or at least I suppose she is—and so, for reasons I knownothing about, she is quite sure that it would be of no benefit toanyone if this meeting actually took place. Moreover, it was onlyyesterday, and only very briefly, that she made it clear to me that sucha meeting could be of no benefit for yourself either, she feels that itcan only have been a matter of chance that such an idea came to you, andthat even without any explanations from her, you will very soon come torealise yourself, if you have not done so already, the futility of youridea. My answer to that is that although it may be quite right, Iconsider it advantageous, if the matter is to be made perfectly clear,to give you an explicit answer. I offered my services in taking on thetask, and after some hesitation my friend conceded. I hope, however,also to have acted in your interests, as even the slightest uncertaintyin the least significant of matters will always remain a cause ofsuffering and if, as in this case, it can be removed without substantialeffort, then it is better if that is done without delay." "I thank you,"said K. as soon as Miss Montag had finished. He stood slowly up, lookedat her, then across the table, then out the window—the house oppositestood there in the sun—and went to the door. Miss Montag followed him afew paces, as if she did not quite trust him. At the door, however, bothof them had to step back as it opened and Captain Lanz entered. This wasthe first time that K. had seen him close up. He was a large man ofabout forty with a tanned, fleshy face. He bowed slightly, intending italso for K., and then went over to Miss Montag and deferentially kissedher hand. He was very elegant in the way he moved. The courtesy heshowed towards Miss Montag made a striking contrast with the way she hadbeen treated by K. Nonetheless, Miss Montag did not seem to be crosswith K. as it even seemed to him that she wanted to introduce thecaptain. K. however, did not want to be introduced, he would not havebeen able to show any sort of friendliness either to Miss Montag or tothe captain, the kiss on the hand had, for K., bound them into a groupwhich would keep him at a distance from Miss Bürstner whilst at the sametime seeming to be totally harmless and unselfish. K. thought, however,that he saw more than that, he thought he also saw that Miss Montag hadchosen a means of doing it that was good, but two-edged. She exaggeratedthe importance of the relationship between K. and Miss Bürstner, andabove all she exaggerated the importance of asking to speak with her andshe tried at the same time to make out that K. was exaggeratingeverything. She would be disappointed, K. did not want to exaggerateanything, he was aware that Miss Bürstner was a little typist who wouldnot offer him much resistance for long. In doing so he deliberately tookno account of what Mrs. Grubach had told him about Miss Bürstner. Allthese things were going through his mind as he left the room with hardlya polite word. He wanted to go straight to his room, but a little laughfrom Miss Montag that he heard from the dining room behind him broughthim to the idea that he might prepare a surprise for the two of them,the captain and Miss Montag. He looked round and listened to find out ifthere might be any disturbance from any of the surrounding rooms,everywhere was quiet, the only thing to be heard was the conversationfrom the dining room and Mrs. Grubach's voice from the passage leadingto the kitchen. This seemed an opportune time, K. went to MissBürstner's room and knocked gently. There was no sound so he knockedagain but there was still no answer in reply. Was she asleep? Or wasshe really unwell? Or was she just pretending as she realised it couldonly be K. knocking so gently? K. assumed she was pretending andknocked harder, eventually, when the knocking brought no result, hecarefully opened the door with the sense of doing something that was notonly improper but also pointless. In the room there was no-one. What'smore, it looked hardly at all like the room K. had known before. Againstthe wall there were now two beds behind one another, there were clothespiled up on three chairs near the door, a wardrobe stood open. MissBürstner must have gone out while Miss Montag was speaking to him in thedining room. K. was not greatly bothered by this, he had hardly expectedto be able to find Miss Bürstner so easily and had made this attempt forlittle more reason than to spite Miss Montag. But that made it all themore embarrassing for him when, as he was closing the door again, he sawMiss Montag and the captain talking in the open doorway of the diningroom. They had probably been standing there ever since K. had opened thedoor, they avoided seeming to observe K. but chatted lightly andfollowed his movements with glances, the absent minded glances to theside such as you make during a conversation. But these glances wereheavy for K., and he rushed alongside the wall back into his own room.

Chapter Five

The whip-man

One evening, a few days later, K. was walking along one of the corridorsthat separated his office from the main stairway—he was nearly the lastone to leave for home that evening, there remained only a couple ofworkers in the light of a single bulb in the dispatch department—whenhe heard a sigh from behind a door which he had himself never opened butwhich he had always thought just led into a junk room. He stood inamazement and listened again to establish whether he might not bemistaken. For a while there was silence, but then came some more sighs.His first thought was to fetch one of the servitors, it might well havebeen worth having a witness present, but then he was taken by anuncontrollable curiosity that make him simply yank the door open. Itwas, as he had thought, a junk room. Old, unusable forms, empty stoneink-bottles lay scattered behind the entrance. But in the cupboard-likeroom itself stood three men, crouching under the low ceiling. A candlefixed on a shelf gave them light. "What are you doing here?" asked K.quietly, but crossly and without thinking. One of the men was clearly incharge, and attracted attention by being dressed in a kind of darkleather costume which left his neck and chest and his arms exposed. Hedid not answer. But the other two called out, "Mr. K.! We're to bebeaten because you made a complaint about us to the examining judge."And now, K. finally realised that it was actually the two policemen,Franz and Willem, and that the third man held a cane in his hand withwhich to beat them. "Well," said K., staring at them, "I didn't make anycomplaint, I only said what took place in my home. And your behaviourwas not entirely unobjectionable, after all." "Mr. K.," said Willem,while Franz clearly tried to shelter behind him as protection from thethird man, "if you knew how badly we get paid you wouldn't think sobadly of us. I've got a family to feed, and Franz here wanted to getmarried, you just have to get more money where you can, you can't do itjust by working hard, not however hard you try. I was sorely tempted byyour fine clothes, policemen aren't allowed to do that sort of thing,course they aren't, and it wasn't right of us, but it's tradition thatthe clothes go to the officers, that's how it's always been, believe me;and it's understandable too, isn't it, what can things like that meanfor anyone unlucky enough to be arrested. But if he starts talking aboutit openly then the punishment has to follow." "I didn't know about anyof this that you've been telling me, and I made no sort of request thatyou be punished, I was simply acting on principle." "Franz," saidWillem, turning to the other policeman, "didn't I tell you that thegentleman didn't say he wanted us to be punished. Now you can hear foryourself, he didn't even know we'd have to be punished." "Don't you letthem persuade you, talking like that," said the third man to K., "thispunishment is both just and unavoidable." "Don't listen to him," saidWillem, interrupting himself only to quickly bring his hand to his mouthwhen it had received a stroke of the cane, "we're only being punishedbecause you made a complaint against us. Nothing would have happened tous otherwise, not even if they'd found out what we'd done. Can you callthat justice? Both of us, me especially, we'd proved our worth as goodpolice officers over a long period—you've got to admit yourself that asfar as official work was concerned we did the job well—things lookedgood for us, we had prospects, it's quite certain that we would've beenmade whip-men too, like this one, only he had the luck not to haveanyone make a complaint about him, as you really don't get manycomplaints like that. Only that's all finished now, Mr. K., our careersare at an end, we're going to have to do work now that's far inferior topolice work and besides all this we're going to get this terrible,painful beating." "Can the cane really cause so much pain, then?" askedK., testing the cane that the whip-man swang in front of him. "We'regoing to have to strip off totally naked," said Willem. "Oh, I see,"said K., looking straight at the whip-man, his skin was burned brownlike a sailor's, and his face showed health and vigour. "Is there thenno possibility of sparing these two their beating?" he asked him. "No,"said the whip-man, shaking his head with a laugh. "Get undressed!" heordered the policemen. And to K. he said, "You shouldn't believeeverything they tell you, it's the fear of being beaten, it's alreadymade them a bit weak in the head. This one here, for instance," hepointed at Willem, "all that he told you about his career prospects,it's just ridiculous. Look at him, look how fat he is—the first strokesof the cane will just get lost in all that fat. Do you know what it isthat's made him so fat. He's in the habit of, everyone that getsarrested by him, he eats their breakfast. Didn't he eat up yourbreakfast? Yeah, I thought as much. But a man with a belly like thatcan't be made into a whip-man and never will be, that is quite out ofthe question." "There are whip-men like that," Willem insisted, who hadjust released the belt of this trousers. "No," said the whip-man,striking him such a blow with the cane on his neck that it made himwince, "you shouldn't be listening to this, just get undressed." "Iwould make it well worth your while if you would let them go," said K.,and without looking at the whip-man again—as such matters are bestcarried on with both pairs of eyes turned down—he pulled out hiswallet. "And then you'd try and put in a complaint against me, too,"said the whip-man, "and get me flogged. No, no!" "Now, do bereasonable," said K., "if I had wanted to get these two punished I wouldnot now be trying to buy their freedom, would I? I could simply closethe door here behind me, go home and see or hear nothing more of it. Butthat's not what I'm doing, it really is of much more importance to me tolet them go free; if I had realised they would be punished, or even thatthey might be punished, I would never have named them in the first placeas they are not the ones I hold responsible. It's the organisationthat's to blame, the high officials are the ones to blame." "That's howit is!" shouted the policemen, who then immediately received anotherblow on their backs, which were by now exposed. "If you had a seniorjudge here beneath your stick," said K., pressing down the cane as hespoke to stop it being raised once more, "I really would do nothing tostop you, on the contrary, I would even pay you money to give you allthe more strength." "Yeah, that's all very plausible, what you're sayingthere," said the whip-man, "only I'm not the sort of person you canbribe. It's my job to flog people, so I flog them." Franz, thepoliceman, had been fairly quiet so far, probably in expectation of agood result from K.'s intervention, but now he stepped forward to thedoor wearing just his trousers, knelt down hanging on to K.'s arm andwhispered, "Even if you can't get mercy shown for both of us, at leasttry and get me set free. Willem is older than me, he's less sensitivethan me in every way, he even got a light beating a couple of yearsago, but my record's still clean, I only did things the way I didbecause Willem led me on to it, he's been my teacher both for good andbad. Down in front of the bank my poor bride is waiting for me at theentrance, I'm so ashamed of myself, it's pitiful." His face was flowingover with tears, and he wiped it dry on K.'s coat. "I'm not going towait any longer," said the whip-man, taking hold of the cane in bothhands and laying in to Franz while Willem cowered back in a corner andlooked on secretly, not even daring to turn his head. Then, the suddenscream that shot out from Franz was long and irrevocable, it seemed tocome not from a human being but from an instrument that was beingtortured, the whole corridor rang with it, it must have been heard byeveryone in the building. "Don't shout like that!", called out K.,unable to prevent himself, and, as he looked anxiously in the directionfrom which the servitor would come, he gave Franz a shove, not hard, buthard enough for him to fall down unconscious, clawing at the ground withhis hands by reflex; he still did not avoid being hit; the rod stillfound him on the floor; the tip of the rod swang regularly up and downwhile he rolled to and fro under its blows. And now one of the servitorsappeared in the distance, with another a few steps behind him. K. hadquickly thrown the door shut, gone over to one of the windowsoverlooking the yard and opened it. The screams had completely stopped.So that the servitor wouldn't come in, he called out, "It's only me!""Good evening, chief clerk," somebody called back. "Is there anythingwrong?" "No, no," answered K., "it's only a dog yelping in the yard."There was no sound from the servitors so he added, "You can go back towhat you were doing." He did not want to become involved with aconversation with them, and so he leant out of the window. A littlewhile later, when he looked out in the corridor, they had already gone.Now, K. remained at the window, he did not dare go back into the junkroom, and he did not want to go home either. The yard he looked downinto was small and rectangular, all around it were offices, all thewindows were now dark and only those at the very top caught a reflectionof the moon. K. tried hard to see into the darkness of one corner of theyard, where a few handcarts had been left behind one another. He feltanguish at not having been able to prevent the flogging, but that wasnot his fault, if Franz had not screamed like that—clearly it must havecaused a great deal of pain but it's important to maintain control ofoneself at important moments—if Franz had not screamed then it was atleast highly probable that K. would have been able to dissuade thewhip-man. If all the junior officers were contemptible why would thewhip-man, whose position was the most inhumane of all, be any exception,and K. had noticed very clearly how his eyes had lit up when he saw thebanknotes, he had obviously only seemed serious about the flogging toraise the level of the bribe a little. And K. had not been ungenerous,he really had wanted to get the policemen freed; if he really had nowbegun to do something against the degeneracy of the court then it was amatter of course that he would have to do something here as well. But ofcourse, it became impossible for him to do anything as soon as Franzstarted screaming. K. could not possibly have let the junior bank staff,and perhaps even all sorts of other people, come along and catch him bysurprise as he haggled with those people in the junk room. Nobody couldreally expect that sort of sacrifice of him. If that had been hisintention then it would almost have been easier, K. would have takenhis own clothes off and offered himself to the whip-man in thepolicemen's place. The whip-man would certainly not have accepted thissubstitution anyway, as in that way he would have seriously violated hisduty without gaining any benefit. He would most likely have violated hisduty twice over, as court employees were probably under orders not tocause any harm to K. while he was facing charges, although there mayhave been special conditions in force here. However things stood, K. wasable to do no more than throw the door shut, even though that wouldstill do nothing to remove all the dangers he faced. It was regrettablethat he had given Franz a shove, and it could only be excused by theheat of the moment.

In the distance, he heard the steps of the servitors; he did not wantthem to be too aware of his presence, so he closed the window andwalked towards the main staircase. At the door of the junk room hestopped and listened for a little while. All was silent. The twopolicemen were entirely at the whip-man's mercy; he could have beatenthem to death. K. reached his hand out for the door handle but drew itsuddenly back. He was no longer in any position to help anyone, and theservitors would soon be back; he did, though, promise himself that hewould raise the matter again with somebody and see that, as far as itwas in his power, those who really were guilty, the high officials whomnobody had so far dared point out to him, received their due punishment.As he went down the main stairway at the front of the bank, he lookedcarefully round at everyone who was passing, but there was no girl to beseen who might have been waiting for somebody, not even within somedistance from the bank. Franz's claim that his bride was waiting for himwas thus shown to be a lie, albeit one that was forgivable and intendedonly to elicit more sympathy.

The policemen were still on K.'s mind all through the following day; hewas unable to concentrate on his work and had to stay in his office alittle longer than the previous day so that he could finish it. On theway home, as he passed by the junk room again, he opened its door as ifthat had been his habit. Instead of the darkness he expected, he saweverything unchanged from the previous evening, and did not know how heshould respond. Everything was exactly the same as he had seen it whenhe had opened the door the previous evening. The forms and bottles ofink just inside the doorway, the whip-man with his cane, the twopolicemen, still undressed, the candle on the shelf, and the twopolicemen began to wail and call out "Mr. K.!" K. slammed the doorimmediately shut, and even thumped on it with his fists as if thatwould shut it all the firmer. Almost in tears, he ran to the servitorsworking quietly at the copying machine. "Go and get that junk roomcleared out!" he shouted, and, in amazement, they stopped what they weredoing. "It should have been done long ago, we're sinking in dirt!" Theywould be able to do the job the next day, K. nodded, it was too late inthe evening to make them do it there and then as he had originallyintended. He sat down briefly in order to keep them near him for alittle longer, looked through a few of the copies to give the impressionthat he was checking them and then, as he saw that they would not dareto leave at the same time as himself, went home tired and with his mindnumb.

Chapter Six

K.'s uncle—Leni

One afternoon—K. was very busy at the time, getting the postready—K.'s Uncle Karl, a small country land owner, came into the room,pushing his way between two of the staff who were bringing in somepapers. K. had long expected his uncle to appear, but the sight of himnow shocked K. far less than the prospect of it had done a long timebefore. His uncle was bound to come, K. had been sure of that for abouta month. He already thought at the time he could see how his unclewould arrive, slightly bowed, his battered panama hat in his left hand,his right hand already stretched out over the desk long before he wasclose enough as he rushed carelessly towards K. knocking over everythingthat was in his way. K.'s uncle was always in a hurry, as he sufferedfrom the unfortunate belief that he had a number of things to do whilehe was in the big city and had to settle all of them in one day—hisvisits were only ever for one day—and at the same time thought he couldnot forgo any conversation or piece of business or pleasure that mightarise by chance. Uncle Karl was K.'s former guardian, and so K. wasduty-bound to help him in all of this as well as to offer him a bed forthe night. "I'm haunted by a ghost from the country," he would say.

As soon as they had greeted each other—K. had invited him to sit inthe armchair but Uncle Karl had no time for that—he said he wanted tospeak briefly with K. in private. "It is necessary," he said with atired gulp, "it is necessary for my peace of mind." K. immediately sentthe junior staff from the room and told them to let no-one in. "What'sthis that I've been hearing, Josef?" cried K.'s uncle when they werealone, as he sat on the table shoving various papers under himselfwithout looking at them to make himself more comfortable. K. saidnothing, he knew what was coming, but, suddenly relieved from theeffort of the work he had been doing, he gave way to a pleasantlassitude and looked out the window at the other side of the street.From where he sat, he could see just a small, triangular section of it,part of the empty walls of houses between two shop windows. "You'restaring out the window!" called out his uncle, raising his arms, "ForGod's sake, Josef, give me an answer! Is it true, can it really betrue?" "Uncle Karl," said K., wrenching himself back from hisdaydreaming, "I really don't know what it is you want of me." "Josef,"said his uncle in a warning tone, "as far as I know, you've always toldthe truth. Am I to take what you've just said as a bad sign?" "I think Iknow what it is you want," said K. obediently, "I expect you've heardabout my trial." "That's right," answered his uncle with a slow nod,"I've heard about your trial." "Who did you hear it from, then?" askedK. "Erna wrote to me," said his uncle, "she doesn't have much contactwith you, it's true, you don't pay very much attention to her, I'mafraid to say, but she learned about it nonetheless. I got her lettertoday and, of course, I came straight here. And for no other reason, butit seems to me that this is reason enough. I can read you out the partof the letter that concerns you." He drew the letter out from hiswallet. "Here it is. She writes; 'I have not seen Josef for a long time,I was in the bank last week but Josef was so busy that they would notlet me through; I waited there for nearly an hour but then I had to gohome as I had my piano lesson. I would have liked to have spoken to him,maybe there will be a chance another time. He sent me a big box ofchocolates for my name-day, that was very nice and attentive of him. Iforgot to tell you about it when I wrote, and I only remember now thatyou ask me about it. Chocolate, as I am sure you are aware, disappearsstraight away in this lodging house, almost as soon as you know somebodyhas given you chocolate it is gone. But there is something else I wantedto tell you about Josef. Like I said, they would not let me through tosee him at the bank because he was negotiating with some gentleman justthen. After I had been waiting quietly for quite a long time I asked oneof the staff whether his meeting would last much longer. He said itmight well do, as it was probably about the legal proceedings, he said,that were being conducted against him. I asked what sort of legalproceedings it was that were being conducted against the chief clerk,and whether he was not making some mistake, but he said he was notmaking any mistake, there were legal proceedings underway and even thatthey were about something quite serious, but he did not know any moreabout it. He would have liked to have been of some help to the chiefclerk himself, as the chief clerk was a gentleman, good and honest, buthe did not know what it was he could do and merely hoped there would besome influential gentlemen who would take his side. I'm sure that iswhat will happen and that everything will turn out for the best in theend, but in the mean time things do not look at all good, and you cansee that from the mood of the chief clerk himself. Of course, I did notplace too much importance on this conversation, and even did my best toput the bank clerk's mind at rest, he was quite a simple man. I told himhe was not to speak to anyone else about this, and I think it is alljust a rumour, but I still think it might be good if you, Dear Father,if you looked into the matter the next time you visit. It will be easyfor you to find out more detail and, if it is really necessary, to dosomething about it through the great and influential people you know.But if it is not necessary, and that is what seems most likely, then atleast your daughter will soon have the chance to embrace you and I lookforward to it.'—She's a good child," said K.'s uncle when he hadfinished reading, and wiped a few tears from his eyes. K. nodded. Withall the different disruptions he had had recently he had completelyforgotten about Erna, even her birthday, and the story of the chocolateshad clearly just been invented so that he wouldn't get in trouble withhis aunt and uncle. It was very touching, and even the theatre tickets,which he would regularly send her from then on, would not be enough torepay her, but he really did not feel, now, that it was right for him tovisit her in her lodgings and hold conversations with a little, eighteenyear old schoolgirl. "And what do you have to say about that?" asked hisuncle, who had forgotten all his rush and excitement as he read theletter, and seemed to be about to read it again. "Yes, Uncle," said K.,"it is true." "True!" called out his uncle. "What is true? How can thisbe true? What sort of trial is it? Not a criminal trial, I hope?" "It'sa criminal trial," answered K. "And you sit quietly here while you'vegot a criminal trial round your neck?" shouted his uncle, getting everlouder. "The more calm I am, the better it will be for the outcome,"said K. in a tired voice, "don't worry." "How can I help worrying?!"shouted his uncle, "Josef, my dear Josef, think about yourself, aboutyour family, think about our good name! Up till now, you've always beenour pride, don't now become our disgrace. I don't like the way you'rebehaving," he said, looking at K. with his head at an angle, "that's nothow an innocent man behaves when he's accused of something, not if he'sstill got any strength in him. Just tell me what it's all about so thatI can help you. It's something to do with the bank, I take it?" "No,"said K. as he stood up, "and you're speaking too loud, Uncle, I expectone of the staff is listening at the door and I find that ratherunpleasant. It's best if we go somewhere else, then I can answer allyour questions, as far as I can. And I know very well that I have toaccount to the family for what I do." "You certainly do!" his uncleshouted, "Quite right, you do. Now just get a move on, Josef, hurry upnow!" "I still have a few documents I need to prepare," said K., and,using the intercom, he summoned his deputy who entered a few momentslater. K.'s uncle, still angry and excited, gestured with his hand toshow that K. had summoned him, even though there was no need whatever todo so. K. stood in front of the desk and explained to the young man, wholistened calm and attentive, what would need to be done that day in hisabsence, speaking in a calm voice and making use of various documents.The presence of K.'s uncle while this was going on was quite disturbing;he did not listen to what was being said, but at first he stood therewith eyes wide open and nervously biting his lips. Then he began to walkup and down the room, stopped now and then at the window, or stood infront of a picture always making various exclamations such as, "That istotally incomprehensible to me!" or "Now just tell me, what are yousupposed to make of that?" The young man pretended to notice nothing ofthis and listened to K.'s instructions through to the end, he made a fewnotes, bowed to both K. and his uncle and then left the room. K.'s unclehad turned his back to him and was looking out the window, bunching upthe curtains with his outstretched hands. The door had hardly closedwhen he called out, "At last! Now that he's stopped jumping about we cango too!" Once they were in the front hall of the bank, where severalmembers of staff were standing about and where, just then, the deputydirector was walking across, there was unfortunately no way of stoppingK.'s uncle from continually asking questions about the trial. "Nowthen, Josef," he began, lightly acknowledging the bows from those aroundthem as they passed, "tell me everything about this trial; what sort oftrial is it?" K. made a few comments which conveyed little information,even laughed a little, and it was only when they reached the front stepsthat he explained to his uncle that he had not wanted to talk openly infront of those people. "Quite right," said his uncle, "but now starttalking." With his head to one side, and smoking his cigar in short,impatient draughts, he listened. "First of all, Uncle," said K., "it'snot a trial like you'd have in a normal courtroom." "So much the worse,"said his uncle. "How's that?" asked K., looking at him. "What I mean is,that's for the worse," he repeated. They were standing on the frontsteps of the bank; as the doorkeeper seemed to be listening to what theywere saying K. drew his uncle down further, where they were absorbedinto the bustle of the street. His uncle took K.'s arm and stoppedasking questions with such urgency about the trial, they walked on for awhile in silence. "But how did all this come about?" he eventuallyasked, stopping abruptly enough to startle the people walking behind,who had to avoid walking into him. "Things like this don't come all of asudden, they start developing a long time beforehand, there must havebeen warning signs of it, why didn't you write to me? You know I'd doanything for you, to some extent I am still your guardian, and untiltoday that's something I was proud of. I'll still help you, of course Iwill, only now, now that the trial is already underway, it makes itvery difficult. But whatever; the best thing now is for you to take ashort holiday staying with us in the country. You've lost weight, I cansee that now. The country life will give you strength, that will begood, there's bound to be a lot of hard work ahead of you. But besidesthat it'll be a way of getting you away from the court, to some extent.Here they've got every means of showing the powers at their disposaland they're automatically bound to use them against you; in the countrythey'll either have to delegate authority to different bodies or justhave to try and bother you by letter, telegram or telephone. And that'sbound to weaken the effect, it won't release you from them but it'llgive you room to breathe." "You could forbid me to leave," said K., whohad been drawn slightly into his uncle's way of thinking by what he hadbeen saying. "I didn't think you would do it," said his unclethoughtfully, "you won't suffer too much loss of power by moving away."K. grasped his uncle under the arm to prevent him stopping still andsaid, "I thought you'd think all this is less important than I do, andnow you're taking it so hard." "Josef," called his uncle trying todisentangle himself from him so that he could stop walking, but K. didnot let go, "you've completely changed, you used to be so astute, areyou losing it now? Do you want to lose the trial? Do you realise whatthat would mean? That would mean you would be simply destroyed. Andthat everyone you know would be pulled down with you or at the veryleast humiliated, disgraced right down to the ground. Josef, pullyourself together. The way you're so indifferent about it, it's drivingme mad. Looking at you I can almost believe that old saying: 'Having atrial like that means losing a trial like that'." "My dear Uncle," saidK., "it won't do any good to get excited, it's no good for you to do itand it'd be no good for me to do it. The case won't be won by gettingexcited, and please admit that my practical experience counts forsomething, just as I have always and still do respect your experience,even when it surprises me. You say that the family will also beaffected by this trial; I really can't see how, but that's beside thepoint and I'm quite willing to follow your instructions in all of this.Only, I don't see any advantage in staying in the country, not even foryou, as that would indicate flight and a sense of guilt. And besides,although I am more subject to persecution if I stay in the city I canalso press the matter forward better here." "You're right," said hisuncle in a tone that seemed to indicate they were finally coming closerto each other, "I just made the suggestion because, as I saw it, if youstay in the city the case will be put in danger by your indifference toit, and I thought it was better if I did the work for you. But will youpush things forward yourself with all your strength, if so, that willnaturally be far better." "We're agreed then," said K. "And do you haveany suggestions for what I should do next?" "Well, naturally I'll haveto think about it," said his uncle, "you must bear in mind that I'vebeen living in the country for twenty years now, almost without abreak, you lose your ability to deal with matters like this. But I dohave some important connections with several people who, I expect, knowtheir way around these things better than I do, and to contact them is amatter of course. Out there in the country I've been getting out ofcondition, I'm sure you're already aware of that. It's only at timeslike this that you notice it yourself. And this affair of yours camelargely unexpected, although, oddly enough, I had expected something ofthe sort after I'd read Erna's letter, and today when I saw your face Iknew it with almost total certainty. But all that is by the by, theimportant thing now is, we have no time to lose." Even while he wasstill speaking, K.'s uncle had stood on tiptoe to summon a taxi and nowhe pulled K. into the car behind himself as he called out an address tothe driver. "We're going now to see Dr. Huld, the lawyer," he said, "wewere at school together. I'm sure you know the name, don't you? No? Wellthat is odd. He's got a very good reputation as a defence barrister andfor working with the poor. But I esteem him especially as someone youcan trust." "It's alright with me, whatever you do," said K., althoughhe was made uneasy by the rushed and urgent way his uncle was dealingwith the matter. It was not very encouraging, as the accused, to betaken to a lawyer for poor people. "I didn't know," he said, "that youcould take on a lawyer in matters like this." "Well of course you can,"said his uncle, "that goes without saying. Why wouldn't you take on alawyer? And now, so that I'm properly instructed in this matter, tell mewhat's been happening so far." K. instantly began telling his uncleabout what had been happening, holding nothing back—being completelyopen with him was the only way that K. could protest at his uncle'sbelief that the trial was a great disgrace. He mentioned Miss Bürstner'sname just once and in passing, but that did nothing to diminish hisopenness about the trial as Miss Bürstner had no connection with it. Ashe spoke, he looked out the window and saw how, just then, they weregetting closer to the suburb where the court offices were. He drew thisto his uncle's attention, but he did not find the coincidence especiallyremarkable. The taxi stopped in front of a dark building. K.'s uncleknocked at the very first door at ground level; while they waited hesmiled, showing his big teeth, and whispered, "Eight o'clock; not theusual sort of time to be visiting a lawyer, but Huld won't mind it fromme." Two large, black eyes appeared in the spy-hatch in the door, theystared at the two visitors for a while and then disappeared; the door,however, did not open. K. and his uncle confirmed to each other the factthat they had seen the two eyes. "A new maid, afraid of strangers," saidK.'s uncle, and knocked again. The eyes appeared once more. This timethey seemed almost sad, but the open gas flame that burned with a hissclose above their heads gave off little light and that may have merelycreated an illusion. "Open the door," called K.'s uncle, raising hisfist against it, "we are friends of Dr. Huld, the lawyer!" "Dr. Huld isill," whispered someone behind them. In a doorway at the far end of anarrow passage stood a man in his dressing gown, giving them thisinformation in an extremely quiet voice. K.'s uncle, who had alreadybeen made very angry by the long wait, turned abruptly round andretorted, "Ill. You say he's ill?" and strode towards the gentleman in away that seemed almost threatening, as if he were the illness himself."They've opened the door for you, now," said the gentleman, pointing atthe door of the lawyer. He pulled his dressing gown together anddisappeared. The door had indeed been opened, a young girl—K.recognised the dark, slightly bulging eyes—stood in the hallway in along white apron, holding a candle in her hand. "Next time, open upsooner!" said K.'s uncle instead of a greeting, while the girl made aslight curtsey. "Come along, Josef," he then said to K. who was slowlymoving over towards the girl. "Dr. Huld is unwell," said the girl asK.'s uncle, without stopping, rushed towards one of the doors. K.continued to look at the girl in amazement as she turned round to blockthe way into the living room, she had a round face like a puppy's, notonly the pale cheeks and the chin were round but the temples and thehairline were too. "Josef!" called his uncle once more, and he asked thegirl, "It's trouble with his heart, is it?" "I think it is, sir," saidthe girl, who by now had found time to go ahead with the candle and openthe door into the room. In one corner of the room, where the light ofthe candle did not reach, a face with a long beard looked up from thebed. "Leni, who's this coming in?" asked the lawyer, unable to recognisehis guests because he was dazzled by the candle. "It's your old friend,Albert," said K.'s uncle. "Oh, Albert," said the lawyer, falling backonto his pillow as if this visit meant he would not need to keep upappearances. "Is it really as bad as that?" asked K.'s uncle, sitting onthe edge of the bed. "I don't believe it is. It's a recurrence of yourheart trouble and it'll pass over like the other times." "Maybe," saidthe lawyer quietly, "but it's just as much trouble as it's ever been. Ican hardly breathe, I can't sleep at all and I'm getting weaker by theday." "I see," said K.'s uncle, pressing his panama hat firmly againsthis knee with his big hand. "That is bad news. But are you getting theright sort of care? And it's so depressing in here, it's so dark. It's along time since I was last here, but it seemed to me friendlier then.Even your young lady here doesn't seem to have much life in her, unlessshe's just pretending." The maid was still standing by the door with thecandle; as far as could be made out, she was watching K. more than shewas watching his uncle even while the latter was still speaking abouther. K. leant against a chair that he had pushed near to the girl. "Whenyou're as ill as I am," said the lawyer, "you need to have peace. Idon't find it depressing." After a short pause he added, "and Leni looksafter me well, she's a good girl." But that was not enough to persuadeK.'s uncle, he had visibly taken against his friend's carer and, eventhough he did not contradict the invalid, he persecuted her with hisscowl as she went over to the bed, put the candle on the bedside tableand, leaning over the bed, made a fuss of him by tidying the pillows.K.'s uncle nearly forgot the need to show any consideration for the manwho lay ill in bed, he stood up, walked up and down behind the carer,and K. would not have been surprised if he had grabbed hold of herskirts behind her and dragged her away from the bed. K. himself lookedon calmly, he was not even disappointed at finding the lawyer unwell,he had been able to do nothing to oppose the enthusiasm his uncle haddeveloped for the matter, he was glad that this enthusiasm had now beendistracted without his having to do anything about it. His uncle,probably simply wishing to be offensive to the lawyer's attendant, thensaid, "Young lady, now please leave us alone for a while, I have somepersonal matters to discuss with my friend." Dr. Huld's carer was stillleant far over the invalid's bed and smoothing out the cloth coveringthe wall next to it, she merely turned her head and then, in strikingcontrast with the anger that first stopped K.'s uncle from speaking andthen let the words out in a gush, she said very quietly, "You can seethat Dr. Huld is so ill that he can't discuss any matters at all." Itwas probably just for the sake of convenience that she had repeated thewords spoken by K.'s uncle, but an onlooker might even have perceivedit as mocking him and he, of course, jumped up as if he had just beenstabbed. "You damned ...," in the first gurglings of his excitement hiswords could hardly be understood, K. was startled even though he hadbeen expecting something of the sort and ran to his uncle with theintention, no doubt, of closing his mouth with both his hands.Fortunately, though, behind the girl, the invalid raised himself up,K.'s uncle made an ugly face as if swallowing something disgusting andthen, somewhat calmer, said, "We have naturally not lost our senses,not yet; if what I am asking for were not possible I would not be askingfor it. Now please, go!" The carer stood up straight by the beddirectly facing K.'s uncle, K. thought he noticed that with one hand shewas stroking the lawyer's hand. "You can say anything in front ofLeni," said the invalid, in a tone that was unmistakably imploring."It's not my business," said K.'s uncle, "and it's not my secrets." Andhe twisted himself round as if wanting to go into no more negotiationsbut giving himself a little more time to think. "Whose business is itthen?" asked the lawyer in an exhausted voice as he leant back again."My nephew's," said K.'s uncle, "and I've brought him along with me."And he introduced him, "Chief Clerk Josef K." "Oh!" said the invalid,now with much more life in him, and reached out his hand towards K. "Doforgive me, I didn't notice you there at all." Then he then said to hiscarer, "Leni, go," stretching his hand out to her as if this were afarewell that would have to last for a long time. This time the girloffered no resistance. "So you," he finally said to K.'s uncle, who hadalso calmed down and stepped closer, "you haven't come to visit mebecause I'm ill but you've come on business." The lawyer now looked somuch stronger that it seemed the idea of being visited because he wasill had somehow made him weak, he remained supporting himself on oneelbow, which must have been rather tiring, and continually pulled at alock of hair in the middle of his beard. "You already look much better,"said K.'s uncle, "now that that witch has gone outside." He interruptedhimself, whispered, "I bet you she's listening!" and sprang over to thedoor. But behind the door there was no-one, K.'s uncle came back notdisappointed, as her not listening seemed to him worse than if she hadbeen, but probably somewhat embittered. "You're mistaken about her,"said the lawyer, but did nothing more to defend her; perhaps that washis way of indicating that she did not need defending. But in a tonethat was much more committed he went on, "As far as your nephew'saffairs are concerned, this will be an extremely difficult undertakingand I'd count myself lucky if my strength lasted out long enough for it;I'm greatly afraid it won't do, but anyway I don't want to leaveanything untried; if I don't last out you can always get somebody else.To be honest, this matter interests me too much, and I can't bringmyself to give up the chance of taking some part in it. If my heart doestotally give out then at least it will have found a worthy affair tofail in." K. believed he understood not a word of this entire speech, helooked at his uncle for an explanation but his uncle sat on the bedsidetable with the candle in his hand, a medicine bottle had rolled off thetable onto the floor, he nodded to everything the lawyer said, agreed toeverything, and now and then looked at K. urging him to show the samecompliance. Maybe K.'s uncle had already told the lawyer about thetrial. But that was impossible, everything that had happened so farspoke against it. So he said, "I don't understand...." "Well, maybe I'vemisunderstood what you've been saying," said the lawyer, just asastonished and embarrassed as K. "Perhaps I've been going too fast. Whatwas it you wanted to speak to me about? I thought it was to do with yourtrial." "Of course it is," said K.'s uncle, who then asked K., "So whatis it you want?" "Yes, but how is it that you know anything about me andmy case?" asked K. "Oh, I see," said the lawyer with a smile. "I am alawyer, I move in court circles, people talk about various differentcases and the more interesting ones stay in your mind, especially whenthey concern the nephew of a friend. There's nothing very remarkableabout that." "What is it you want, then?" asked K.'s uncle once more,"You seem so uneasy about it." "You move in this court's circles?" askedK. "Yes," said the lawyer. "You're asking questions like a child," saidK.'s uncle. "What circles should I move in, then, if not with members ofmy own discipline?" the lawyer added. It sounded so indisputable that K.gave no answer at all. "But you work in the High Court, not that courtin the attic," he had wanted to say but could not bring himself toactually utter it. "You have to realise," the lawyer continued, in atone as if he were explaining something obvious, unnecessary andincidental, "you have to realise that I also derive great advantage formy clients from mixing with those people, and do so in many differentways, it's not something you can keep talking about all the time. I'm ata bit of a disadvantage now, of course, because of my illness, but Istill get visits from some good friends of mine at the court and I learnone or two things. It might even be that I learn more than many of thosewho are in the best of health and spend all day in court. And I'mreceiving a very welcome visit right now, for instance." And he pointedinto a dark corner of the room. "Where?" asked K., almost uncouth inhis surprise. He looked round uneasily; the little candle gave off fartoo little light to reach as far as the wall opposite. And then,something did indeed begin to move there in the corner. In the light ofthe candle held up by K.'s uncle an elderly gentleman could be seensitting beside a small table. He had been sitting there for so longwithout being noticed that he could hardly have been breathing. Now hestood up with a great deal of fuss, clearly unhappy that attention hadbeen drawn to him. It was as if, by flapping his hands about like shortwings, he hoped to deflect any introductions and greetings, as if hewanted on no account to disturb the others by his presence and seemed tobe exhorting them to leave him back in the dark and forget about hisbeing there. That, however, was something that could no longer begranted him. "You took us by surprise, you see," said the lawyer inexplanation, cheerfully indicating to the gentleman that he should comecloser, which, slowly, hesitatingly, looking all around him, but with acertain dignity, he did. "The office director—oh, yes, forgive me, Ihaven't introduced you—this is my friend Albert K., this is his nephew,the chief clerk Josef K., and this is the office director—so, theoffice director was kind enough to pay me a visit. It's only possibleto appreciate just how valuable a visit like this is if you've been letinto the secret of what a pile of work the office director has heapedover him. Well, he came anyway, we were having a peaceful chat, as faras I was able when I'm so weak, and although we hadn't told Leni shemustn't let anyone in as we weren't expecting anyone, we still wouldrather have remained alone, but then along came you, Albert, thumpingyour fists on the door, the office director moved over into the cornerpulling his table and chair with him, but now it turns out we mighthave, that is, if that's what you wish, we might have something todiscuss with each other and it would be good if we can all come backtogether again.—Office director ...," he said with his head on oneside, pointing with a humble smile to an armchair near the bed. "I'mafraid I'll only be able to stay a few minutes more," smiled the officedirector as he spread himself out in the armchair and looked at theclock. "Business calls. But I wouldn't want to miss the chance ofmeeting a friend of my friend." He inclined his head slightly towardK.'s uncle, who seemed very happy with his new acquaintance, but he wasnot the sort of person to express his feelings of deference andresponded to the office director's words with embarrassed, but loud,laughter. A horrible sight! K. was able to quietly watch everything asnobody paid any attention to him, the office director took over asleader of the conversation as seemed to be his habit once he had beencalled forward, the lawyer listened attentively with his hand to hisear, his initial weakness having perhaps only had the function ofdriving away his new visitors. K.'s uncle served ascandle-bearer—balancing the candle on his thigh while the officedirector frequently glanced nervously at it—and was soon free of hisembarrassment and was quickly enchanted not only by the officedirector's speaking manner but also by the gentle, wavinghand-movements with which he accompanied it. K., leaning against thebedpost, was totally ignored by the office director, perhapsdeliberately, and served the old man only as audience. And besides, hehad hardly any idea what the conversation was about and his thoughtssoon turned to the care assistant and the ill treatment she had sufferedfrom his uncle. Soon after, he began to wonder whether he had not seenthe office director somewhere before, perhaps among the people who wereat his first hearing. He may have been mistaken, but thought the officedirector might well have been among the old gentlemen with the thinbeards in the first row.

There was then a noise that everyone heard from the hallway as ifsomething of porcelain were being broken. "I'll go and see what'shappened," said K., who slowly left the room as if giving the othersthe chance to stop him. He had hardly stepped into the hallway, findinghis bearings in the darkness with his hand still firmly holding thedoor, when another small hand, much smaller than K.'s own, placed itselfon his and gently shut the door. It was the carer who had been waitingthere. "Nothing has happened," she whispered to him, "I just threw aplate against the wall to get you out of there." "I was thinking aboutyou, as well," replied K. uneasily. "So much the better," said thecarer. "Come with me." A few steps along, they came to a frosted glassdoor which the carer opened for him. "Come in here," she said. It wasclearly the lawyer's office, fitted out with old, heavy furniture, asfar as could be seen in the moonlight which now illuminated just asmall, rectangular section of the floor by each of the three bigwindows. "This way," said the carer, pointing to a dark trunk with acarved, wooden backrest. When he had sat down, K. continued to lookround the room, it was a large room with a high ceiling, the clients ofthis lawyer for the poor must have felt quite lost in it. K. thought hecould see the little steps with which visitors would approach themassive desk. But then he forgot about all of this and had eyes onlyfor the carer who sat very close beside him, almost pressing him againstthe armrest. "I did think," she said, "you would come out here to me byyourself without me having to call you first. It was odd. First youstare at me as soon as you come in, and then you keep me waiting. Andyou ought to call me Leni, too," she added quickly and suddenly, as ifno moment of this conversation should be lost. "Gladly," said K. "Butas for its being odd, Leni, that's easy to explain. Firstly, I had tolisten to what the old men were saying and couldn't leave without agood reason, but secondly I'm not a bold person, if anything I'm quiteshy, and you, Leni, you didn't really look like you could be won over inone stroke, either." "That's not it," said Leni, laying one arm on thearmrest and looking at K., "you didn't like me, and I don't suppose youlike me now, either." "Liking wouldn't be very much," said K.,evasively. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a smile, thus making use of K.'scomment to gain an advantage over him. So K. remained silent for awhile. By now, he had become used to the darkness in the room and wasable to make out various fixtures and fittings. He was especiallyimpressed by a large picture hanging to the right of the door, he leantforward in order to see it better. It depicted a man wearing a judge'srobes; he was sitting on a lofty throne gilded in a way that shoneforth from the picture. The odd thing about the picture was that thisjudge was not sitting there in dignified calm but had his left armpressed against the back and armrest, his right arm, however, wascompletely free and only grasped the armrest with his hand, as if aboutto jump up any moment in vigorous outrage and make some decisive commentor even to pass sentence. The accused was probably meant to be imaginedat the foot of the steps, the top one of which could be seen in thepicture, covered with a yellow carpet. "That might be my judge," saidK., pointing to the picture with one finger. "I know him," said Lenilooking up at the picture, "he comes here quite often. That picture isfrom when he was young, but he can never have looked anything like it,as he's tiny, minute almost. But despite that, he had himself made tolook bigger in the picture as he's madly vain, just like everyone roundhere. But even I'm vain and that makes me very unhappy that you don'tlike me." K. replied to that last comment merely by embracing Leni anddrawing her towards him, she lay her head quietly on his shoulder. Tothe rest of it, though, he said, "What rank is he?" "He's an examiningjudge," she said, taking hold of the hand with which K. held her andplaying with his fingers. "Just an examining judge once again," said K.in disappointment, "the senior officials keep themselves hidden. Buthere he is sitting on a throne." "That's all just made up," said Leniwith her face bent over K.'s hand, "really he's sitting on a kitchenchair with an old horse blanket folded over it. But do you have to bealways thinking about your trial?" she added slowly. "No, not at all,"said K., "I probably even think too little about it." "That's not themistake you're making," said Leni, "you're too unyielding, that's whatI've heard." "Who said that?" asked K., he felt her body against hischest and looked down on her rich, dark, tightly-bound hair. "I'd besaying too much if I told you that," answered Leni. "Please don't askfor names, but do stop making these mistakes of yours, stop being sounyielding, there's nothing you can do to defend yourself from thiscourt, you have to confess. So confess to them as soon as you get thechance. It's only then that they give you the chance to get away, nottill then. Only, without help from outside even that's impossible, butyou needn't worry about getting this help as I want to help youmyself." "You understand a lot about this court and what sort of tricksare needed," said K. as he lifted her, since she was pressing in muchtoo close to him, onto his lap. "That's alright, then," she said, andmade herself comfortable on his lap by smoothing out her skirt andadjusting her blouse. Then she hung both her arms around his neck, leantback and took a long look at him. "And what if I don't confess, couldyou not help me then?" asked K. to test her out. I'm accumulating womento help me, he thought to himself almost in amazement, first MissBürstner, then the court usher's wife, and now this little careassistant who seems to have some incomprehensible need for me. The wayshe sits on my lap as if it were her proper place! "No," answered Leni,slowly shaking her head, "I couldn't help you then. But you don't wantmy help anyway, it means nothing to you, you're too stubborn and won'tbe persuaded." Then, after a while she asked, "Do you have a lover?""No," said K. "Oh, you must have," she said. "Well, I have really," saidK. "Just think, I've even betrayed her while I'm carrying her photographwith me." Leni insisted he show her a photograph of Elsa, and then,hunched on his lap, studied the picture closely. The photograph was notone that had been taken while Elsa was posing for it, it showed her justafter she had been in a wild dance such as she liked to do in wine bars,her skirt was still flung out as she span round, she had placed herhands on her firm hips and, with her neck held taut, looked to one sidewith a laugh; you could not see from the picture whom her laugh wasintended for. "She's very tightly laced," said Leni, pointing to theplace where she thought this could be seen. "I don't like her, she'sclumsy and crude. But maybe she's gentle and friendly towards you,that's the impression you get from the picture. Big, strong girls likethat often don't know how to be anything but gentle and friendly. Wouldshe be capable of sacrificing herself for you, though?" "No," said K.,"she isn't gentle or friendly, and nor would she be capable ofsacrificing herself for me. But I've never yet asked any of those thingsof her. I've never looked at this picture as closely as you." "You can'tthink much of her, then," said Leni. "She can't be your lover afterall." "Yes she is," said K., "I'm not going to take my word back onthat." "Well she might be your lover now, then," said Leni, "but youwouldn't miss her much if you lost her or if you exchanged her forsomebody else, me for instance." "That is certainly conceivable," saidK. with a smile, "but she does have one major advantage over you, sheknows nothing about my trial, and even if she did she wouldn't thinkabout it. She wouldn't try to persuade me to be less unyielding." "Wellthat's no advantage," said Leni. "If she's got no advantage other thanthat, I can keep on hoping. Has she got any bodily defects?" "'Bodilydefects'?" asked K. "Yeah," said Leni, "as I do have a bodily defect,just a little one. Look." She spread the middle and ring fingers of herright hand apart from each other. Between those fingers the flap of skinconnecting them reached up almost as far as the top joint of the littlefinger. In the darkness, K. did not see at first what it was she wantedto show him, so she led his hand to it so that he could feel. "What afreak of nature," said K., and when he had taken a look at the wholehand he added, "What a pretty claw!" Leni looked on with a kind of prideas K. repeatedly opened and closed her two fingers in amazement, until,finally, he briefly kissed them and let go. "Oh!" she immediatelyexclaimed, "you kissed me!" Hurriedly, and with her mouth open, sheclambered up K.'s lap with her knees. He was almost aghast as he lookedup at her, now that she was so close to him there was a bitter,irritating smell from her, like pepper, she grasped his head, leant outover him, and bit and kissed his neck, even biting into his hair. "I'vetaken her place!" she exclaimed from time to time. "Just look, nowyou've taken me instead of her!" Just then, her knee slipped out and,with a little cry, she nearly fell down onto the carpet, K. tried tohold her by putting his arms around her and was pulled down with her."Now you're mine," she said. Her last words to him as he left were,"Here's the key to the door, come whenever you want," and she planted anundirected kiss on his back. When he stepped out the front door therewas a light rain falling, he was about to go to the middle of the streetto see if he could still glimpse Leni at the window when K.'s uncleleapt out of a car that K., thinking of other things, had not seenwaiting outside the building. He took hold of K. by both arms and shovedhim against the door as if he wanted to nail him to it. "Young man," heshouted, "how could you do a thing like that?! Things were going wellwith this business of yours, now you've caused it terrible damage. Youslip off with some dirty, little thing who, moreover, is obviously thelawyer's beloved, and stay away for hours. You don't even try to find anexcuse, don't try to hide anything, no, you're quite open about it, yourun off with her and stay there. And meanwhile we're sitting there, youruncle who's going to such effort for you, the lawyer who needs to be wonover to your side, and above all the office director, a very importantgentleman who is in direct command of your affair in its present stage.We wanted to discuss how best to help you, I had to handle the lawyervery carefully, he had to handle the office director carefully, and youhad most reason of all to at least give me some support. Instead ofwhich you stay away. Eventually we couldn't keep up the pretence anylonger, but these are polite and highly capable men, they didn't sayanything about it so as to spare my feelings but in the end not eventhey could continue to force themselves and, as they couldn't speakabout the matter in hand, they became silent. We sat there for severalminutes, listening to see whether you wouldn't finally come back. All invain. In the end the office director stood up, as he had stayed farlonger than he had originally intended, made his farewell, looked at mein sympathy without being able to help, he waited at the door for a longtime although it's more than I can understand why he was being so good,and then he went. I, of course, was glad he'd gone, I'd been holding mybreath all this time. All this had even more effect on the lawyer lyingthere ill, when I took my leave of him, the good man, he was quiteunable to speak. You have probably contributed to his total collapseand so brought the very man who you are dependent on closer to hisdeath. And me, your own uncle, you leave me here in the rain—just feelthis, I'm wet right through—waiting here for hours, sick with worry."

Chapter Seven

Lawyer—Manufacturer—Painter

One winter morning—snow was falling in the dull light outside—K. wassitting in his office, already extremely tired despite the early hour.He had told the servitor he was engaged in a major piece of work andnone of the junior staff should be allowed in to see him, so he wouldnot be disturbed by them at least. But instead of working he turnedround in his chair, slowly moved various items around his desk, butthen, without being aware of it, he lay his arm stretched out on thedesk top and sat there immobile with his head sunk down on his chest.

He was no longer able to get the thought of the trial out of his head.He had often wondered whether it might not be a good idea to work out awritten defence and hand it in to the court. It would contain a shortdescription of his life and explain why he had acted the way he had ateach event that was in any way important, whether he now considered hehad acted well or ill, and his reasons for each. There was no doubt ofthe advantages a written defence of this sort would have over relyingon the lawyer, who was anyway not without his shortcomings. K. had noidea what actions the lawyer was taking; it was certainly not a lot, itwas more than a month since the lawyer had summoned him, and none ofthe previous discussions had given K. the impression that this man wouldbe able to do much for him. Most importantly, he had asked him hardlyany questions. And there were so many questions here to be asked.Asking questions was the most important thing. K. had the feeling thathe would be able to ask all the questions needed here himself. Thelawyer, in contrast, did not ask questions but did all the talkinghimself or sat silently facing him, leant forward slightly over thedesk, probably because he was hard of hearing, pulled on a strand ofhair in the middle of his beard and looked down at the carpet, perhapsat the very spot where K. had lain with Leni. Now and then he would giveK. some vague warning of the sort you give to children. His speecheswere as pointless as they were boring, and K. decided that when thefinal bill came he would pay not a penny for them. Once the lawyerthought he had humiliated K. sufficiently, he usually started somethingthat would raise his spirits again. He had already, he would then say,won many such cases, partly or in whole, cases which may not really havebeen as difficult as this one but which, on the face of it, had evenless hope of success. He had a list of these cases here in thedrawer—here he would tap on one or other of the drawers in hisdesk—but could, unfortunately, not show them to K. as they dealt withofficial secrets. Nonetheless, the great experience he had acquiredthrough all these cases would, of course, be of benefit to K. He had, ofcourse, begun work straight away and was nearly ready to submit thefirst documents. They would be very important because the firstimpression made by the defence will often determine the whole course ofthe proceedings. Unfortunately, though, he would still have to make itclear to K. that the first documents submitted are sometimes not evenread by the court. They simply put them with the other documents andpoint out that, for the time being, questioning and observing theaccused are much more important than anything written. If the applicantbecomes insistent, then they add that before they come to any decision,as soon as all the material has been brought together, with due regard,of course, to all the documents, then these first documents to have beensubmitted will also be checked over. But unfortunately, even this is notusually true, the first documents submitted are usually mislaid or lostcompletely, and even if they do keep them right to the end they arehardly read, although the lawyer only knew about this from rumour. Thisis all very regrettable, but not entirely without its justifications.But K. should not forget that the trial would not be public, if thecourt deems it necessary it can be made public but there is no law thatsays it has to be. As a result, the accused and his defence don't haveaccess even to the court records, and especially not to the indictment,and that means we generally don't know—or at least not precisely—whatthe first documents need to be about, which means that if they docontain anything of relevance to the case it's only by a luckycoincidence. If anything about the individual charges and the reasonsfor them comes out clearly or can be guessed at while the accused isbeing questioned, then it's possible to work out and submit documentsthat really direct the issue and present proof, but not before.Conditions like this, of course, place the defence in a veryunfavourable and difficult position. But that is what they intend. Infact, defence is not really allowed under the law, it's only tolerated,and there is even some dispute about whether the relevant parts of thelaw imply even that. So strictly speaking, there is no such thing as acounsel acknowledged by the court, and anyone who comes before thiscourt as counsel is basically no more than a barrack room lawyer. Theeffect of all this, of course, is to remove the dignity of the wholeprocedure, the next time K. is in the court offices he might like tohave a look in at the lawyers' room, just so that he's seen it. He mightwell be quite shocked by the people he sees assembled there. The roomthey've been allocated, with its narrow space and low ceiling, will beenough to show what contempt the court has for these people. The onlylight in the room comes through a little window that is so high up that,if you want to look out of it, you first have to get one of yourcolleagues to support you on his back, and even then the smoke from thechimney just in front of it will go up your nose and make your faceblack. In the floor of this room—to give yet another example of theconditions there—there is a hole that's been there for more than ayear, it's not so big that a man could fall through, but it is bigenough for your foot to disappear through it. The lawyers' room is onthe second floor of the attic; if your foot does go through it will hangdown into the first floor of the attic underneath it, and right in thecorridor where the litigants are waiting. It's no exaggeration whenlawyers say that conditions like that are a disgrace. Complaints to themanagement don't have the slightest effect, but the lawyers are strictlyforbidden to alter anything in the room at their own expense. But eventreating the lawyers in this way has its reasons. They want, as far aspossible, to prevent any kind of defence, everything should be made theresponsibility of the accused. Not a bad point of view, basically, butnothing could be more mistaken than to think from that that lawyers arenot necessary for the accused in this court. On the contrary, there isno court where they are less needed than here. This is becauseproceedings are generally kept secret not only from the public but alsofrom the accused. Only as far as that is possible, of course, but it ispossible to a very large extent. And the accused doesn't get to see thecourt records either, and it's very difficult to infer what's in thecourt records from what's been said during questioning based on them,especially for the accused who is in a difficult situation and is facedwith every possible worry to distract him. This is when the defencebegins. Counsel for the defence are not normally allowed to be presentwhile the accused is being questioned, so afterwards, and if possiblestill at the door of the interview room, he has to learn what he canabout it from him and extract whatever he can that might be of use, eventhough what the accused has to report is often very confused. But thatis not the most important thing, as there's really not a lot that can belearned in this way, although in this, as with anything else, acompetent man will learn more than another. Nonetheless, the mostimportant thing is the lawyer's personal connections, that's where thereal value of taking counsel lies. Now K. will most likely have alreadylearned from his own experience that, among its very lowest orders, thecourt organisation does have its imperfections, the court is strictlyclosed to the public, but staff who forget their duty or who take bribesdo, to some extent, show where the gaps are. This is where most lawyerswill push their way in, this is where bribes are paid and informationextracted, there have even, in earlier times at least, been incidentswhere documents have been stolen. There's no denying that somesurprisingly favourable results have been attained for the accused inthis way, for a limited time, and these petty advocates then strut toand fro on the basis of them and attract new clients, but for thefurther course of the proceedings it signifies either nothing or nothinggood. The only things of real value are honest personal contacts,contacts with higher officials, albeit higher officials of the lowergrades, you understand. That is the only way the progress of the trialcan be influenced, hardly noticeable at first, it's true, but from thenon it becomes more and more visible. There are, of course, not manylawyers who can do this, and K. has made a very good choice in thismatter. There were probably no more than one or two who had as manycontacts as Dr. Huld, but they don't bother with the company of thelawyers' room and have nothing to do with it. This means they have allthe less contact with the court officials. It is not at all necessaryfor Dr. Huld to go to the court, wait in the ante-rooms for theexamining judges to turn up, if they turn up, and try to achievesomething which, according to the judges' mood is usually more apparentthan real and most often not even that. No, K. has seen for himself thatthe court officials, including some who are quite high up, come forwardwithout being asked, are glad to give information which is fully open orat least easy to understand, they discuss the next stages in theproceedings, in fact in some cases they can be won over and are quitewilling to adopt the other person's point of view. However, when thishappens, you should never trust them too far, as however firmly they mayhave declared this new point of view in favour of the defendant theymight well go straight back to their offices and write a report for thecourt that says just the opposite, and might well be even harder on thedefendant than the original view, the one they insist they've been fullydissuaded from. And, of course, there's no way of defending yourselffrom this, something said in private is indeed in private and cannotthen be used in public, it's not something that makes it easy for thedefence to keep those gentlemen's favour. On the other hand, it's alsotrue that the gentlemen don't become involved with the defence—whichwill of course be done with great expertise—just for philanthropicreasons or in order to be friendly, in some respects it would be truerto say that they, too, have it allocated to them. This is where thedisadvantages of a court structure that, right from the start,stipulates that all proceedings take place in private, come into force.In normal, mediocre trials its officials have contact with the public,and they're very well equipped for it, but here they don't; normaltrials run their course all by themselves, almost, and just need a nudgehere and there; but when they're faced with cases that are especiallydifficult they're as lost as they often are with ones that are verysimple; they're forced to spend all their time, day and night, withtheir laws, and so they don't have the right feel for humanrelationships, and that's a serious shortcoming in cases like this.That's when they come for advice to the lawyer, with a servant behindthem carrying the documents which normally are kept so secret. You couldhave seen many gentlemen at this window, gentlemen of whom you wouldleast expect it, staring out this window in despair on the street belowwhile the lawyer is at his desk studying the documents so that he cangive them good advice. And at times like that it's also possible to seehow exceptionally seriously these gentlemen take their professions andhow they are thrown into great confusion by difficulties which it's justnot in their natures to overcome. But they're not in an easy position,to regard their positions as easy would be to do them an injustice. Thedifferent ranks and hierarchies of the court are endless, and evensomeone who knows his way around them cannot always tell what's going tohappen. But even for the junior officials, the proceedings in thecourtrooms are usually kept secret, so they are hardly able to see howthe cases they work with proceed, court affairs appear in their range ofvision often without their knowing where they come from and they move onfurther without their learning where they go. So civil servants likethis are not able to learn the things you can learn from studying thesuccessive stages that individual trials go through, the final verdictor the reasons for it. They're only allowed to deal with that part ofthe trial which the law allocates them, and they usually know less aboutthe results of their work after it's left them than the defence does,even though the defence will usually stay in contact with the accuseduntil the trial is nearly at its end, so that the court officials canlearn many useful things from the defence. Bearing all this in mind,does it still surprise K. that the officials are irritated and oftenexpress themselves about the litigants in unflattering ways—which is anexperience shared by everyone. All the officials are irritated, evenwhen they appear calm. This causes many difficulties for the junioradvocates, of course. There is a story, for instance, that has very muchthe ring of truth about it. It goes like this: One of the olderofficials, a good and peaceful man, was dealing with a difficult matterfor the court which had become very confused, especially thanks to thecontributions from the lawyers. He had been studying it for a day and anight without a break—as these officials are indeed hard working,no-one works as hard as they do. When it was nearly morning, and he hadbeen working for twenty-four hours with probably very little result, hewent to the front entrance, waited there in ambush, and every time alawyer tried to enter the building he would throw him down the steps.The lawyers gathered together down in front of the steps and discussedwith each other what they should do; on the one hand they had actuallyno right to be allowed into the building so that there was hardlyanything that they could legally do to the official and, as I've alreadymentioned, they would have to be careful not to set all the officialsagainst them. On the other hand, any day not spent in court is a daylost for them and it was a matter of some importance to force their wayinside. In the end, they agreed that they would try to tire the old manout. One lawyer after another was sent out to run up the steps and lethimself be thrown down again, offering what resistance he could as longas it was passive resistance, and his colleagues would catch him at thebottom of the steps. That went on for about an hour until the oldgentleman, who was already exhausted from working all night, was verytired and went back to his office. Those who were at the bottom of thesteps could not believe it at first, so they sent somebody out to go andlook behind the door to see if there really was no-one there, and onlythen did they all gather together and probably didn't even dare tocomplain, as it's far from being the lawyers' job to introduce anyimprovements in the court system, or even to want to. Even the mostjunior lawyer can understand the relationship there to some extent, butone significant point is that almost every defendant, even very simplepeople, begins to think of suggestions for improving the court as soonas his proceedings have begun, many of them often even spend time andenergy on the matter that could be spent far better elsewhere. The onlyright thing to do is to learn how to deal with the situation as it is.Even if it were possible to improve any detail of it—which is anyway nomore than superstitious nonsense—the best that they could achieve,although doing themselves incalculable harm in the process, is that theywill have attracted the special attention of the officials for any casethat comes up in the future, and the officials are always ready to seekrevenge. Never attract attention to yourself! Stay calm, however much itgoes against your character! Try to gain some insight into the size ofthe court organism and how, to some extent, it remains in a state ofsuspension, and that even if you alter something in one place you'lldraw the ground out from under your feet and might fall, whereas if anenormous organism like the court is disrupted in any one place it findsit easy to provide a substitute for itself somewhere else. Everything isconnected with everything else and will continue without any change orelse, which is quite probable, even more closed, more attentive, morestrict, more malevolent. So it's best to leave the work to the lawyersand not to keep disturbing them. It doesn't do much good to makeaccusations, especially if you can't make it clear what they're based onand their full significance, but it must be said that K. caused a greatdeal of harm to his own case by his behaviour towards the officedirector, he was a very influential man but now he might as well bestruck off the list of those who might do anything for K. If the trialis mentioned, even just in passing, it's quite obvious that he'signoring it. These officials are in many ways just like children. Often,something quite harmless—although K.'s behaviour could unfortunatelynot be called harmless—will leave them feeling so offended that theywill even stop talking with good friends of theirs, they turn away whenthey see them and do everything they can to oppose them. But then, withno particular reason, surprisingly enough, some little joke that wasonly ever attempted because everything seemed so hopeless will make themlaugh and they'll be reconciled. It's both difficult and hard at thesame time to deal with them, and there's hardly any reason for it. It'ssometimes quite astonishing that a single, average life is enough toencompass so much that it's at all possible ever to have any success inone's work here. On the other hand, there are also dark moments, such aseveryone has, when you think you've achieved nothing at all, when itseems that the only trials to come to a good end are those that weredetermined to have a good end from the start and would do so without anyhelp, while all the others are lost despite all the running to and fro,all the effort, all the little, apparent successes that gave such joy.Then you no longer feel very sure of anything and, if asked about atrial that was doing well by its own nature but which was turned for theworse because you assisted in it, would not even dare deny that. Andeven that is a kind of self-confidence, but then it's the only onethat's left. Lawyers are especially vulnerable to fits of depression ofthat sort—and they are no more than fits of depression of course—whena case is suddenly taken out of their hands after they've beenconducting it satisfactorily for some time. That's probably the worstthat can happen to a lawyer. It's not that the accused takes the caseaway from him, that hardly ever happens, once a defendant has taken ona certain lawyer he has to stay with him whatever happens. How could heever carry on by himself after he's taken on help from a lawyer? No,that just doesn't happen, but what does sometimes happen is that thetrial takes on a course where the lawyer may not go along with it.Client and trial are both simply taken away from the lawyer; and theneven contact with the court officials won't help, however good they are,as they don't know anything themselves. The trial will have entered astage where no more help can be given, where it's being processed incourts to which no-one has any access, where the defendant cannot evenbe contacted by his lawyer. You come home one day and find all thedocuments you've submitted, which you've worked hard to create and whichyou had the best hopes for, lying on the desk, they've been sent back asthey can't be carried through to the next stage in the trial, they'rejust worthless scraps of paper. It doesn't mean that the case has beenlost, not at all, or at least there is no decisive reason for supposingso, it's just that you don't know anything more about the case and won'tbe told anything of what's happening. Well, cases like that are theexceptions, I'm glad to say, and even if K.'s trial is one of them, it'sstill, for the time being, a long way off. But there was still plenty ofopportunity for lawyers to get to work, and K. could be sure they wouldbe made use of. As he had said, the time for submitting documents wasstill in the future and there was no rush to prepare them, it was muchmore important to start the initial discussions with the appropriateofficials, and they had already taken place. With varying degrees ofsuccess, it must be said. It was much better not to give away anydetails before their time, as in that way K. could only be influencedunfavourably and his hopes might be raised or he might be made tooanxious, better just to say that some individuals have spoken veryfavourably and shown themselves very willing to help, although othershave spoken less favourably, but even they have not in any way refusedto help. So all in all, the results are very encouraging, only youshould certainly not draw any particular conclusions as all preliminaryproceedings begin in the same way and it was only the way they developedfurther that would show what the value of these preliminary proceedingshas been. Anyway, nothing has been lost yet, and if we can succeed ingetting the office director, despite everything, on our side—andseveral actions have been undertaken to this end—then everything is aclean wound, as a surgeon would say, and we can wait for the resultswith some comfort.

When he started talking on in this way the lawyer was quite tireless.He went through it all again every time K. went to see him. There wasalways some progress, but he could never be told what sort of progressit was. The first set of documents to be submitted were being worked onbut still not ready, which usually turned out to be a great advantagethe next time K. went to see him as the earlier occasion would havebeen a very bad time to put them in, which they could not then haveknown. If K., stupefied from all this talking, ever pointed out thateven considering all these difficulties progress was very slow, thelawyer would object that progress was not slow at all, but that theymight have progressed far further if K. had come to him at the righttime. But he had come to him late and that lateness would bring stillfurther difficulties, and not only where time was concerned. The onlywelcome interruption during these visits was always when Leni contrivedto bring the lawyer his tea while K. was there. Then she would standbehind K.—pretending to watch the lawyer as he bent greedily over hiscup, poured the tea in and drank—and secretly let K. hold her hand.There was always complete silence. The lawyer drank. K. squeezed Leni'shand and Leni would sometimes dare to gently stroke K.'s hair. "Stillhere, are you?" the lawyer would ask when he was ready. "I wanted totake the dishes away," said Leni, they would give each other's hands afinal squeeze, the lawyer would wipe his mouth and then start talking atK. again with renewed energy.

Was the lawyer trying to comfort K. or to confuse him? K. could nottell, but it seemed clear to him that his defence was not in goodhands. Maybe everything the lawyer said was quite right, even though heobviously wanted to make himself as conspicuous as possible andprobably had never even taken on a case as important as he said K.'swas. But it was still suspicious how he continually mentioned hispersonal contacts with the civil servants. Were they to be exploitedsolely for K.'s benefit. The lawyer never forgot to mention that theywere dealing only with junior officials, which meant officials who weredependent on others, and the direction taken in each trial could beimportant for their own furtherment. Could it be that they were makinguse of the lawyer to turn trials in a certain direction, which would,of course, always be at the cost of the defendant. It certainly did notmean that they would do that in every trial, that was not likely at all,and there were probably also trials where they gave the lawyeradvantages and all the room he needed to turn it in the direction hewanted, as it would also be to their advantage to keep his reputationintact. If that really was their relationship, how would they directK.'s trial which, as the lawyer had explained, was especially difficultand therefore important enough to attract great attention from the veryfirst time it came to court? There could not be much doubt about whatthey would do. The first signs of it could already be seen in the factthat the first documents still had not been submitted even though thetrial had already lasted several months, and that, according to thelawyer, everything was still in its initial stages, which was veryeffective, of course, in making the defendant passive and keeping himhelpless. Then he could be suddenly surprised with the verdict, or atleast with a notification that the hearing had not decided in his favourand the matter would be passed on to a higher office.

It was essential that K. take a hand in it himself. On winter'smornings such as this, when he was very tired and everything draggeditself lethargically through his head, this belief of his seemedirrefutable. He no longer felt the contempt for the trial that he hadhad earlier. If he had been alone in the world it would have been easyfor him to ignore it, although it was also certain that, in that case,the trial would never have arisen in the first place. But now, his unclehad already dragged him to see the lawyer, he had to take account of hisfamily; his job was no longer totally separate from the progress of thetrial, he himself had carelessly—with a certain, inexplicablecomplacency—mentioned it to acquaintances and others had learned aboutit in ways he did not know, his relationship with Miss Bürstner seemedto be in trouble because of it. In short, he no longer had any choicewhether he would accept the trial or turn it down, he was in the middleof it and had to defend himself. If he was tired, then that was bad.

But there was no reason to worry too much before he needed to. He hadbeen capable of working himself up to his high position in the bank ina relatively short time and to retain it with respect from everyone,now he simply had to apply some of the talents that had made thatpossible for him to the trial, and there was no doubt that it had toturn out well. The most important thing, if something was to beachieved, was to reject in advance any idea that he might be in any wayguilty. There was no guilt. The trial was nothing but a big piece ofbusiness, just like he had already concluded to the benefit of the bankmany times, a piece of business that concealed many lurking dangerswaiting in ambush for him, as they usually did, and these dangers wouldneed to be defended against. If that was to be achieved then he must notentertain any idea of guilt, whatever he did, he would need to lookafter his own interests as closely as he could. Seen in this way, therewas no choice but to take his representation away from the lawyer verysoon, at best that very evening. The lawyer had told him, as he talkedto him, that that was something unheard of and would probably do him agreat deal of harm, but K. could not tolerate any impediment to hisefforts where his trial was concerned, and these impediments wereprobably caused by the lawyer himself. But once he had shaken off thelawyer the documents would need to be submitted straight away and, ifpossible, he would need to see to it that they were being dealt withevery day. It would of course not be enough, if that was to be done, forK. to sit in the corridor with his hat under the bench like the others.Day after day, he himself, or one of the women or somebody else on hisbehalf, would have to run after the officials and force them to sit attheir desks and study K.'s documents instead of looking out on thecorridor through the grating. There could be no let-up in these efforts,everything would need to be organised and supervised, it was about timethat the court came up against a defendant who knew how to defend andmake use of his rights.

But when K. had the confidence to try and do all this the difficulty ofcomposing the documents was too much for him. Earlier, just a week orso before, he could only have felt shame at the thought of being madeto write out such documents himself; it had never entered his head thatthe task could also be difficult. He remembered one morning when,already piled up with work, he suddenly shoved everything to one sideand took a pad of paper on which he sketched out some of his thoughts onhow documents of this sort should proceed. Perhaps he would offer themto that slow-witted lawyer, but just then the door of the manager'soffice opened and the deputy director entered the room with a loudlaugh. K. was very embarrassed, although the deputy director, ofcourse, was not laughing at K.'s documents, which he knew nothing about,but at a joke he had just heard about the stock-exchange, a joke whichneeded an illustration if it was to be understood, and now thedeputy director leant over K.'s desk, took his pencil from his hand,and drew the illustration on the writing pad that K. had intended forhis ideas about his case.

K. now had no more thoughts of shame, the documents had to be preparedand submitted. If, as was very likely, he could find no time to do itin the office he would have to do it at home at night. If the nightsweren't enough he would have to take a holiday. Above all, he could notstop half way, that was nonsense not only in business but always andeverywhere. Needless to say, the documents would mean an almost endlessamount of work. It was easy to come to the belief, not only for thoseof an anxious disposition, that it was impossible ever to finish it.This was not because of laziness or deceit, which were the only thingsthat might have hindered the lawyer in preparing it, but because he didnot know what the charge was or even what consequences it might bring,so that he had to remember every tiny action and event from the wholeof his life, looking at them from all sides and checking andreconsidering them. It was also a very disheartening job. It would havebeen more suitable as a way of passing the long days after he hadretired and become senile. But now, just when K. needed to apply all histhoughts to his work, when he was still rising and already posed athreat to the deputy director, when every hour passed so quickly and hewanted to enjoy the brief evenings and nights as a young man, this wasthe time he had to start working out these documents. Once more, hebegan to feel resentment. Almost involuntarily, only to put an end toit, his finger felt for the button of the electric bell in theante-room. As he pressed it he glanced up to the clock. It was eleveno'clock, two hours, he had spent a great deal of his costly time justdreaming and his wits were, of course, even more dulled than they hadbeen before. But the time had, nonetheless, not been wasted, he had cometo some decisions that could be of value. As well as various pieces ofmail, the servitors brought two visiting cards from gentlemen who hadalready been waiting for K. for some time. They were actually veryimportant clients of the bank who should not really have been keptwaiting under any circumstances. Why had they come at such an awkwardtime, and why, the gentlemen on the other side of the closed door seemedto be asking, was the industrious K. using up the best business time forhis private affairs? Tired from what had gone before, and tired inanticipation of what was to follow, K. stood up to receive the first ofthem.

He was a short, jolly man, a manufacturer who K. knew well. Heapologised for disturbing K. at some important work, and K., for hispart, apologised for having kept the manufacturer waiting for so long.But even this apology was spoken in such a mechanical way and with suchfalse intonation that the manufacturer would certainly have noticed ifhe had not been fully preoccupied with his business affairs. Instead,he hurriedly pulled calculations and tables out from all his pockets,spread them out in front of K., explained several items, corrected alittle mistake in the arithmetic that he noticed as he quickly glancedover it all, and reminded K. of a similar piece of business he'dconcluded with him about a year before, mentioning in passing that thistime there was another bank spending great effort to get his business,and finally stopped speaking in order to learn K.'s opinion on thematter. And K. had indeed, at first, been closely following what themanufacturer was saying, he too was aware of how important the dealwas, but unfortunately it did not last, he soon stopped listening,nodded at each of the manufacturer's louder exclamations for a shortwhile, but eventually he stopped doing even that and did no more thanstare at the bald head bent over the papers, asking himself when themanufacturer would finally realise that everything he was saying wasuseless. When he did stop talking, K. really thought at first that thiswas so that he would have the chance to confess that he was incapable oflistening. Instead, seeing the anticipation on the manufacturer's face,obviously ready to counter any objections made, he was sorry to realisethat the business discussion had to be continued. So he bent his head asif he'd been given an order and began slowly to move his pencil over thepapers, now and then he would stop and stare at one of the figures. Themanufacturer thought there must be some objection, perhaps his figuresweren't really sound, perhaps they weren't the decisive issue, whateverhe thought, the manufacturer covered the papers with his hand and beganonce again, moving very close to K., to explain what the deal was allabout. "It is difficult," said K., pursing his lips. The only thingthat could offer him any guidance were the papers, and the manufacturerhad covered them from his view, so he just sank back against the arm ofthe chair. Even when the door of the manager's office opened andrevealed not very clearly, as if through a veil, the deputy director, hedid no more than look up weakly. K. thought no more about the matter, hemerely watched the immediate effect of the deputy director's appearanceand, for him, the effect was very pleasing; the manufacturerimmediately jumped up from his seat and hurried over to meet the deputydirector, although K. would have liked to make him ten times livelier ashe feared the deputy director might disappear again. He need not haveworried, the two gentlemen met each other, shook each other's hand andwent together over to K.'s desk. The manufacturer said he was sorry tofind the chief clerk so little inclined to do business, pointing to K.who, under the view of the deputy director, had bent back down over thepapers. As the two men leant over the desk and the manufacturer madesome effort to gain and keep the deputy director's attention, K. felt asif they were much bigger than they really were and that theirnegotiations were about him. Carefully and slowly turning his eyesupwards, he tried to learn what was taking place above him, took one ofthe papers from his desk without looking to see what it was, lay it onthe flat of his hand and raised it slowly up as he rose up to the levelof the two men himself. He had no particular plan in mind as he didthis, but merely felt this was how he would act if only he had finishedpreparing that great document that was to remove his burden entirely.The deputy director had been paying all his attention to theconversation and did no more than glance at the paper, he did not readwhat was written on it at all as what was important for the chief clerkwas not important for him, he took it from K.'s hand saying, "Thank you,I'm already familiar with everything," and laid it calmly back on thedesk. K. gave him a bitter, sideways look. But the deputy director didnot notice this at all, or if he did notice it it only raised hisspirits, he frequently laughed out loud, one time he clearly embarrassedthe manufacturer when he raised an objection in a witty way but drew himimmediately back out of his embarrassment by commenting adversely onhimself, and finally invited him into his office where they could bringthe matter to its conclusion. "It's a very important matter," said themanufacturer. "I understand that completely. And I'm sure the chiefclerk ..."—even as he said this he was actually speaking only to themanufacturer—"will be very glad to have us take it off his hands. Thisis something that needs calm consideration. But he seems to beover-burdened today, there are even some people in the room outsidewho've been waiting there for hours for him." K. still had enoughcontrol of himself to turn away from the deputy director and direct hisfriendly, albeit stiff, smile only at the manufacturer, he made no otherretaliation, bent down slightly and supported himself with both hands onhis desk like a clerk, and watched as the two gentlemen, still talking,took the papers from his desk and disappeared into the manager's office.In the doorway, the manufacturer turned and said he wouldn't make hisfarewell with K. just yet, he would of course let the chief clerk knowabout the success of his discussions but he also had a little somethingto tell him about.

At last, K. was by himself. It did not enter his head to show anyoneelse into his office and only became vaguely aware of how nice it wasthat the people outside thought he was still negotiating with themanufacturer and, for this reason, he could not let anyone in to seehim, not even the servitor. He went over to the window, sat down on theledge beside it, held firmly on to the handle and looked down onto thesquare outside. The snow was still falling, the weather still had notbrightened up at all.

He remained a long time sitting in this way, not knowing what itactually was that made him so anxious, only occasionally did he glance,slightly startled, over his shoulder at the door to the outer roomwhere, mistakenly, he thought he'd heard some noise. No-one came, andthat made him feel calmer, he went over to the wash stand, rinsed hisface with cold water and, his head somewhat clearer, went back to hisplace by the window. The decision to take his defence into his ownhands now seemed more of a burden than he had originally assumed. Allthe while he had left his defence up to the lawyer his trial had hadlittle basic affect on him, he had observed it from afar as somethingthat was scarcely able to reach him directly, when it suited him helooked to see how things stood but he was also able to draw his headback again whenever he wanted. Now, in contrast, if he was to conducthis defence himself, he would have to devote himself entirely to thecourt—for the time being, at least—success would mean, later on, hiscomplete and conclusive liberation, but if he was to achieve this hewould have to place himself, to start with, in far greater danger thanhe had been in so far. If he ever felt tempted to doubt this, then hisexperience with the deputy director and the manufacturer that day wouldbe quite enough to convince him of it. How could he have sat theretotally convinced of the need to do his own defence? How would it belater? What would his life be like in the days ahead? Would he find theway through it all to a happy conclusion? Did a carefully worked outdefence—and any other sort would have made no sense—did a carefullyworked out defence not also mean he would need to shut himself off fromeverything else as much as he could? Would he survive that? And how washe to succeed in conducting all this at the bank? It involved much morethan just submitting some documents that he could probably prepare in afew days' leave, although it would have been great temerity to ask fortime off from the bank just at that time, it was a whole trial and therewas no way of seeing how long it might last. This was an enormousdifficulty that had suddenly been thrown into K.'s life!

And was he supposed to be doing the bank's work at a time like this? Helooked down at his desk. Was he supposed to let people in to see himand go into negotiations with them at a time like this? While his trialtrundled on, while the court officials upstairs in the attic room satlooking at the papers for this trial, should he be worrying about thebusiness of the bank? Did this not seem like a kind of torture,acknowledged by the court, connected with the trial and which followedhim around? And is it likely that anyone in the bank, when judging hiswork, would take any account of his peculiar situation? No-one andnever. There were those who knew about his trial, although it was notquite clear who knew about it or how much. But he hoped rumours had notreached as far as the deputy director, otherwise he would obviouslysoon find a way of making use of it to harm K., he would show neithercomradeship nor humaneness. And what about the director? It was truethat he was well disposed towards K., and as soon as he heard about thetrial he would probably try to do everything he could to make it easierfor him, but he would certainly not devote himself to it. K. at onetime had provided the counter-balance to what the deputy director saidbut the director was now coming more and more under his influence, andthe deputy director would also exploit the weakened condition of thedirector to strengthen his own power. So what could K. hope for? Maybeconsiderations of this sort weakened his power of resistance, but itwas still necessary not to deceive oneself and to see everything asclearly as it could be seen at that moment.

For no particular reason, just to avoiding returning to his desk for awhile, he opened the window. It was difficult to open and he had toturn the handle with both his hands. Then, through the whole height andbreadth of the window, the mixture of fog and smoke was drawn into theroom, filling it with a slight smell of burning. A few flakes of snowwere blown in with it. "It's a horrible autumn," said the manufacturer,who had come into the room unnoticed after seeing the deputy directorand now stood behind K. K. nodded and looked uneasily at themanufacturer's briefcase, from which he would now probably take thepapers and inform K. of the result of his negotiations with the deputydirector. However, the manufacturer saw where K. was looking, knockedon his briefcase and without opening it said, "You'll be wanting tohear how things turned out. I've already got the contract in my pocket,almost. He's a charming man, your deputy director—he's got hisdangers, though." He laughed as he shook K.'s hand and wanted to makehim laugh with him. But to K., it once more seemed suspicious that themanufacturer did not want to show him the papers and saw nothing abouthis comments to laugh at. "Chief clerk," said the manufacturer, "Iexpect the weather's been affecting your mood, has it? You're lookingso worried today." "Yes," said K., raising his hand and holding thetemple of his head, "headaches, worries in the family." "Quite right,"said the manufacturer, who was always in a hurry and could never listento anyone for very long, "everyone has his cross to bear." K. hadunconsciously made a step towards the door as if wanting to show themanufacturer out, but the manufacturer said, "Chief clerk, there'ssomething else I'd like to mention to you. I'm very sorry if it'ssomething that'll be a burden to you today of all days but I've been tosee you twice already, lately, and each time I forgot all about it. If Idelay it any longer it might well lose its point altogether. That wouldbe a pity, as I think what I've got to say does have some value." BeforeK. had had the time to answer, the manufacturer came up close to him,tapped his knuckle lightly on his chest and said quietly, "You've got atrial going on, haven't you?" K. stepped back and immediately exclaimed,"That's what the deputy director's been telling you!" "No, no," saidthe manufacturer, "how would the deputy director know about it?" "Andwhat about you?" asked K., already more in control of himself. "I hearthings about the court here and there," said the manufacturer, "and thateven applies to what it is that I wanted to tell you about." "There areso many people who have connections with the court!" said K. withlowered head, and he led the manufacturer over to his desk. They satdown where they had been before, and the manufacturer said, "I'm afraidit's not very much that I've got to tell you about. Only, in matterslike this, it's best not to overlook the tiniest details. Besides, Ireally want to help you in some way, however modest my help might be.We've been good business partners up till now, haven't we? Well then."K. wanted to apologise for his behaviour in the conversation earlierthat day, but the manufacturer would tolerate no interruption, shovedhis briefcase up high in his armpit to show that he was in a hurry, andcarried on. "I know about your case through a certain Titorelli. He's apainter, Titorelli's just his artistic name, I don't even know what hisreal name is. He's been coming to me in my office for years from time totime, and brings little pictures with him which I buy more or less justfor the sake of charity as he's hardly more than a beggar. And they'renice pictures, too, moorland landscapes and that sort of thing. We'dboth got used to doing business in this way and it always went smoothly.Only, one time these visits became a bit too frequent, I began to tellhim off for it, we started talking and I became interested how it wasthat he could earn a living just by painting, and then I learned to myamazement that his main source of income was painting portraits. 'I workfor the court,' he said, 'what court?' said I. And that's when he toldme about the court. I'm sure you can imagine how amazed I was at beingtold all this. Ever since then I learn something new about the courtevery time he comes to visit, and so little by little I get tounderstand something of how it works. Anyway, Titorelli talks a lot andI often have to push him away, not only because he's bound to be lyingbut also, most of all, because a businessman like me who's already closeto breaking point under the weight of his own business worries can't paytoo much attention to other people's. But all that's just by the by.Perhaps—this is what I've been thinking—perhaps Titorelli might beable to help you in some small way, he knows lots of judges and even ifhe can't have much influence himself he can give you some advice abouthow to get some influential people on your side. And even if thisadvice doesn't turn out to make all the difference I still think it'llbe very important once you've got it. You're nearly a lawyer yourself.That's what I always say, Mr. K. the chief clerk is nearly a lawyer. OhI'm sure this trial of yours will turn out all right. So do you want togo and see Titorelli, then. If I ask him to he'll certainly doeverything he possibly can. I really do think you ought to go. Itneedn't be today, of course, just some time, when you get the chance.And anyway—I want to tell you this too—you don't actually have to goand see Titorelli, this advice from me doesn't place you under anyobligation at all. No, if you think you can get by without Titorelliit'll certainly be better to leave him completely out of it. Maybeyou've already got a clear idea of what you're doing and Titorelli couldupset your plans. No, if that's the case then of course you shouldn't gothere under any circumstances! And it certainly won't be easy to takeadvice from a lad like that. Still, it's up to you. Here's the letter ofrecommendation and here's the address."

Disappointed, K. took the letter and put it in his pocket. Even atbest, the advantage he might derive from this recommendation wasincomparably smaller than the damage that lay in the fact of themanufacturer knowing about his trial, and that the painter was spreadingthe news about. It was all he could manage to give the manufacturer, whowas already on his way to the door, a few words of thanks. "I'll gothere," he said as he took his leave of the manufacturer at the door,"or, as I'm very busy at present, I'll write to him, perhaps he wouldlike to come to me in my office some time." "I was sure you'd find thebest solution," said the manufacturer. "Although I had thought you'dprefer to avoid inviting people like this Titorelli to the bank andtalking about the trial here. And it's not always a good idea to sendletters to people like Titorelli, you don't know what might happen tothem. But you're bound to have thought everything through and you knowwhat you can and can't do." K. nodded and accompanied the manufactureron through the ante-room. But despite seeming calm on the outside he wasactually very shocked; he had told the manufacturer he would write toTitorelli only to show him in some way that he valued hisrecommendations and would consider the opportunity to speak withTitorelli without delay, but if he had thought Titorelli could offer anyworthwhile assistance he would not have delayed. But it was only themanufacturer's comment that made K. realise what dangers that could leadto. Was he really able to rely on his own understanding so little? If itwas possible that he might invite a questionable character into the bankwith a clear letter, and ask advice from him about his trial, separatedfrom the deputy director by no more than a door, was it not possible oreven very likely that there were also other dangers he had failed to seeor that he was even running towards? There was not always someonebeside him to warn him. And just now, just when he would have to actwith all the strength he could muster, now a number of doubts of a sorthe had never before known had presented themselves and affected his ownvigilance! The difficulties he had been feeling in carrying out hisoffice work; were they now going to affect the trial too? Now, at least,he found himself quite unable to understand how he could have intendedto write to Titorelli and invite him into the bank.

He shook his head at the thought of it once more as the servitor cameup beside him and drew his attention to the three gentlemen who werewaiting on a bench in the ante-room. They had already been waiting tosee K. for a long time. Now that the servitor was speaking with K. theyhad stood up and each of them wanted to make use of the opportunity tosee K. before the others. It had been negligent of the bank to let themwaste their time here in the waiting room, but none of them wanted todraw attention to this. "Mr. K., ..." one of them was saying, but K.had told the servitor to fetch his winter coat and said to the three ofthem, as the servitor helped him to put it on, "Please forgive me,gentlemen, I'm afraid I have no time to see you at present. Please doforgive me but I have some urgent business to settle and have to leavestraight away. You've already seen yourselves how long I've beendelayed. Would you be so kind as to come back tomorrow or some time? Orperhaps we could settle your affairs by telephone. Or perhaps you wouldlike to tell me now, briefly, what it's about and I can then give you afull answer in writing. Whatever, the best thing will be for you tocome here again." The gentlemen now saw that their wait had beentotally pointless, and these suggestions of K.'s left them so astoundedthat they looked at each other without a word. "That's agreed then, isit?" asked K., who had turned toward the servitor bringing him his hat.Through the open door of K.'s office they could see that the snowfalloutside had become much heavier. So K. turned the collar of his coat upand buttoned it up high under his chin. Just then the deputy directorcame out of the adjoining room, smiled as he saw K. negotiating withthe gentlemen in his winter coat, and asked, "Are you about to go out?""Yes," said K., standing more upright, "I have to go out on somebusiness." But the deputy director had already turned towards thegentlemen. "And what about these gentlemen?" he asked. "I think they'vealready been waiting quite a long time." "We've already come to anunderstanding," said K. But now the gentlemen could be held back nolonger, they surrounded K. and explained that they would not have beenwaiting for hours if it had not been about something important that hadto be discussed now, at length and in private. The deputy directorlistened to them for a short while, he also looked at K. as he held hishat in his hand cleaning the dust off it here and there, and then hesaid, "Gentlemen, there is a very simple way to solve this. If youwould prefer it, I'll be very glad to take over these negotiationsinstead of the chief clerk. Your business does, of course, need to bediscussed without delay. We are businessmen like yourselves and know thevalue of a businessman's time. Would you like to come this way?" And heopened the door leading to the ante-room of his own office.

The deputy director seemed very good at appropriating everything thatK. was now forced to give up! But was K. not giving up more than heabsolutely had to? By running off to some unknown painter, with, as hehad to admit, very little hope of any vague benefit, his renown wassuffering damage that could not be repaired. It would probably be muchbetter to take off his winter coat again and, at the very least, try towin back the two gentlemen who were certainly still waiting in the nextroom. If K. had not then glimpsed the deputy director in his office,looking for something from his bookshelves as if they were his own, hewould probably even have made the attempt. As K., somewhat agitated,approached the door the deputy director called out, "Oh, you've stillnot left!" He turned his face toward him—its many deep folds seemed toshow strength rather than age—and immediately began once more tosearch. "I'm looking for a copy of a contract," he said, "which thisgentleman insists you must have. Could you help me look for it, do youthink?" K. made a step forward, but the deputy director said, "thankyou, I've already found it," and with a big package of papers, whichcertainly must have included many more documents than just the copy ofthe contract, he turned and went back into his own office.

"I can't deal with him right now," K. said to himself, "but once mypersonal difficulties have been settled, then he'll certainly be thefirst to get the effect of it, and he certainly won't like it."Slightly calmed by these thoughts, K. gave the servitor, who had alreadylong been holding the door to the corridor open for him, the task oftelling the director, when he was able, that K. was going out of thebank on a business matter. As he left the bank he felt almost happy atthe thought of being able to devote more of himself to his own businessfor a while.

He went straight to the painter, who lived in an outlying part of townwhich was very near to the court offices, although this area was evenpoorer, the houses were darker, the streets were full of dirt thatslowly blew about over the half-melted snow. In the great gateway tothe building where the painter lived only one of the two doors was open,a hole had been broken open in the wall by the other door, and as K.approached it a repulsive, yellow, steaming liquid shot out causingsome rats to scurry away into the nearby canal. Down by the staircasethere was a small child lying on its belly crying, but it could hardlybe heard because of the noise from a metal-workshop on the other sideof the entrance hall, drowning out any other sound. The door to theworkshop was open, three workers stood in a circle around some piece ofwork that they were beating with hammers. A large tin plate hung on thewall, casting a pale light that pushed its way in between two of theworkers, lighting up their faces and their work-aprons. K. did no morethan glance at any of these things, he wanted to get things over withhere as soon as possible, to exchange just a few words to find out howthings stood with the painter and go straight back to the bank. Even ifhe had just some tiny success here it would still have a good effect onhis work at the bank for that day. On the third floor he had to slowdown his pace, he was quite out of breath—the steps, just like theheight of each floor, were much higher than they needed to be and he'dbeen told that the painter lived right up in the attic. The air wasalso quite oppressive, there was no proper stairwell and the narrowsteps were closed in by walls on both sides with no more than a small,high window here and there. Just as K. paused for a while some younggirls ran out of one of the flats and rushed higher up the stairs,laughing. K. followed them slowly, caught up with one of the girls whohad stumbled and been left behind by the others, and asked her as theywent up side by side, "Is there a painter, Titorelli, who lives here?"The girl, hardly thirteen years old and somewhat hunchbacked, jabbedhim with her elbow and looked at him sideways. Her youth and her bodilydefects had done nothing to stop her being already quite depraved. Shedid not smile once, but looked at K. earnestly, with sharp, acquisitiveeyes. K. pretended not to notice her behaviour and asked, "Do you knowTitorelli, the painter?" She nodded and asked in reply, "What d'youwant to see him for?" K. thought it would be to his advantage quickly tofind out something more about Titorelli. "I want to have him paint myportrait," he said. "Paint your portrait?" she asked, opening her mouthtoo wide and lightly hitting K. with her hand as if he had saidsomething extraordinarily surprising or clumsy, with both hands shelifted her skirt, which was already very short, and, as fast as shecould, she ran off after the other girls whose indistinct shouts lostthemselves in the heights. At the next turn of the stairs, however, K.encountered all the girls once more. The hunchbacked girl had clearlytold them about K.'s intentions and they were waiting for him. Theystood on both sides of the stairs, pressing themselves against the wallso that K. could get through between them, and smoothed their apronsdown with their hands. All their faces, even in this guard of honour,showed a mixture of childishness and depravity. Up at the head of theline of girls, who now, laughing, began to close in around K., was thehunchback who had taken on the role of leader. It was thanks to herthat K. found the right direction without delay—he would have continuedup the stairs straight in front of him, but she showed him that toreach Titorelli he would need to turn off to one side. The steps thatled up to the painter were especially narrow, very long without anyturning, the whole length could be seen in one glance and, at the top,at Titorelli's closed door, it came to its end. This door was muchbetter illuminated than the rest of the stairway by the light from asmall skylight set obliquely above it, it had been put together fromunpainted planks of wood and the name 'Titorelli' was painted on it inbroad, red brushstrokes. K. was no more than half way up the steps,accompanied by his retinue of girls, when, clearly the result of thenoise of all those footsteps, the door opened slightly and in the cracka man who seemed to be dressed in just his nightshirt appeared. "Oh!" hecried, when he saw the approaching crowd, and vanished. The hunchbackedgirl clapped her hands in glee and the other girls crowded in behind K.to push him faster forward.

They still had not arrived at the top, however, when the painter upabove them suddenly pulled the door wide open and, with a deep bow,invited K. to enter. The girls, on the other hand, he tried to keepaway, he did not want to let any of them in however much they beggedhim and however much they tried to get in—if they could not get in withhis permission they would try to force their way in against his will.The only one to succeed was the hunchback when she slipped through underhis outstretched arm, but the painter chased after her, grabbed her bythe skirt, span her once round and set her down again by the door withthe other girls who, unlike the first, had not dared to cross thedoorstep while the painter had left his post. K. did not know what hewas to make of all this, as they all seemed to be having fun. One behindthe other, the girls by the door stretched their necks up high andcalled out various words to the painter which were meant in jest butwhich K. did not understand, and even the painter laughed as thehunchback whirled round in his hand. Then he shut the door, bowed oncemore to K., offered him his hand and introduced himself, saying,"Titorelli, painter." K. pointed to the door, behind which the girlswere whispering, and said, "You seem to be very popular in thisbuilding." "Ach, those brats!" said the painter, trying in vain tofasten his nightshirt at the neck. He was also bare-footed and, apartfrom that, was wearing nothing more than a loose pair of yellowish linentrousers held up with a belt whose free end whipped to and fro. "Thosekids are a real burden for me," he continued. The top button of hisnightshirt came off and he gave up trying to fasten it, fetched a chairfor K. and made him sit down on it. "I painted one of them once—she'snot here today—and ever since then they've been following me about. IfI'm here they only come in when I allow it, but as soon as I've gone outthere's always at least one of them in here. They had a key made to mydoor and lend it round to each other. It's hard to imagine what a painthat is. Suppose I come back home with a lady I'm going to paint, I openthe door with my own key and find the hunchback there or something, bythe table painting her lips red with my paintbrush, and meanwhile herlittle sisters will be keeping guard for her, moving about and causingchaos in every corner of the room. Or else, like happened yesterday, Imight come back home late in the evening—please forgive my appearanceand the room being in a mess, it is to do with them—so, I might comehome late in the evening and want to go to bed, then I feel somethingpinching my leg, look under the bed and pull another of them out fromunder it. I don't know why it is they bother me like this, I expectyou've just seen that I do nothing to encourage them to come near me.And they make it hard for me to do my work too, of course. If I didn'tget this studio for nothing I'd have moved out a long time ago." Justthen, a little voice, tender and anxious, called out from under thedoor, "Titorelli, can we come in now?" "No," answered the painter. "Noteven just me, by myself?" the voice asked again. "Not even just you,"said the painter, as he went to the door and locked it.

Meanwhile, K. had been looking round the room, if it had not beenpointed out it would never have occurred to him that this wretchedlittle room could be called a studio. It was hardly long enough orbroad enough to make two steps. Everything, floor, walls and ceiling,was made of wood, between the planks narrow gaps could be seen. Acrossfrom where K. was, the bed stood against the wall under a covering ofmany different colours. In the middle of the room a picture stood on aneasel, covered over with a shirt whose arms dangled down to the ground.Behind K. was the window through which the fog made it impossible tosee further than the snow covered roof of the neighbouring building.

The turning of the key in the lock reminded K. that he had not wantedto stay too long. So he drew the manufacturer's letter out from hispocket, held it out to the painter and said, "I learned about you fromthis gentleman, an acquaintance of yours, and it's on his advice thatI've come here." The painter glanced through the letter and threw itdown onto the bed. If the manufacturer had not said very clearly thatTitorelli was an acquaintance of his, a poor man who was dependent onhis charity, then it would really have been quite possible to believethat Titorelli did not know him or at least that he could not rememberhim. This impression was augmented by the painter's asking, "Were youwanting to buy some pictures or did you want to have yourself painted?"K. looked at the painter in astonishment. What did the letter actuallysay? K. had taken it as a matter of course that the manufacturer hadexplained to the painter in his letter that K. wanted nothing more withhim than to find out more about his trial. He had been far too rash incoming here! But now he had to give the painter some sort of answerand, glancing at the easel, said, "Are you working on a picturecurrently?" "Yes," said the painter, and he took the shirt hanging overthe easel and threw it onto the bed after the letter. "It's a portrait.Quite a good piece of work, although it's not quite finished yet." Thiswas a convenient coincidence for K., it gave him a good opportunity totalk about the court as the picture showed, very clearly, a judge.What's more, it was remarkably similar to the picture in the lawyer'soffice, although this one showed a quite different judge, a heavy manwith a full beard which was black and bushy and extended to the sidesfar up the man's cheeks. The lawyer's picture was also an oil painting,whereas this one had been made with pastel colours and was pale andunclear. But everything else about the picture was similar, as thisjudge, too, was holding tightly to the arm of his throne and seemedominously about to rise from it. At first K. was about to say, "Hecertainly is a judge," but he held himself back for the time being andwent closer to the picture as if he wanted to study it in detail. Therewas a large figure shown in the middle of the throne's back rest whichK. could not understand and asked the painter about it. That'll needsome more work done on it, the painter told him, and taking a pastelcrayon from a small table he added a few strokes to the edges of thefigure but without making it any clearer as far as K. could make out."That's the figure of justice," said the painter, finally. "Now I see,"said K., "here's the blindfold and here are the scales. But aren't thosewings on her heels, and isn't she moving?" "Yes," said the painter, "Ihad to paint it like that according to the contract. It's actually thefigure of justice and the goddess of victory all in one." "That is not agood combination," said K. with a smile. "Justice needs to remainstill, otherwise the scales will move about and it won't be possible tomake a just verdict." "I'm just doing what the client wanted," said thepainter. "Yes, certainly," said K., who had not meant to criticiseanyone by that comment. "You've painted the figure as it actuallyappears on the throne." "No," said the painter, "I've never seen thatfigure or that throne, it's all just invention, but they told me whatit was I had to paint." "How's that?" asked K. pretending not fully tounderstand what the painter said. "That is a judge sitting on thejudge's chair, isn't it?" "Yes," said the painter, "but that judgeisn't very high up and he's never sat on any throne like that." "And hehas himself painted in such a grand pose. He's sitting there just likethe president of the court." "Yeah, gentlemen like this are very vain,"said the painter. "But they have permission from higher up to getthemselves painted like this. It's laid down quite strictly just whatsort of portrait each of them can get for himself. Only it's a pity thatyou can't make out the details of his costume and pose in this picture,pastel colours aren't really suitable for showing people like this.""Yes," said K., "it does seem odd that it's in pastel colours." "That'swhat the judge wanted," said the painter, "it's meant to be for awoman." The sight of the picture seemed to make him feel like working,he rolled up his shirtsleeves, picked up a few of the crayons, and K.watched as a reddish shadow built up around the head of the judge undertheir quivering tips and radiated out the to edges of the picture. Thisshadow play slowly surrounded the head like a decoration or loftydistinction. But around the figure of Justice, apart from somecoloration that was barely noticeable, it remained light, and in thisbrightness the figure seemed to shine forward so that it now lookedlike neither the God of Justice nor the God of Victory, it seemed now,rather, to be a perfect depiction of the God of the Hunt. K. found thepainter's work more engrossing than he had wanted; but finally hereproached himself for staying so long without having done anythingrelevant to his own affair. "What's the name of this judge?" he askedsuddenly. "I'm not allowed to tell you that," the painter answered. Hewas bent deeply over the picture and clearly neglecting his guest who,at first, he had received with such care. K. took this to be just afoible of the painter's, and it irritated him as it made him lose time."I take it you must be a trustee of the court," he said. The painterimmediately put his crayons down, stood upright, rubbed his handstogether and looked at K. with a smile. "Always straight out with thetruth," he said. "You want to learn something about the court, like itsays in your letter of recommendation, but then you start talking aboutmy pictures to get me on your side. Still, I won't hold it against you,you weren't to know that that was entirely the wrong thing to try withme. Oh, please!" he said sharply, repelling K.'s attempt to make someobjection. He then continued, "And besides, you're quite right in yourcomment that I'm a trustee of the court." He made a pause, as ifwanting to give K. the time to come to terms with this fact. The girlscould once more be heard from behind the door. They were probablypressed around the keyhole, perhaps they could even see into the roomthrough the gaps in the planks. K. forewent the opportunity to excusehimself in some way as he did not wish to distract the painter from whathe was saying, or else perhaps he didn't want him to get too far abovehimself and in this way make himself to some extent unattainable, so heasked, "Is that a publicly acknowledged position?" "No," was thepainter's curt reply, as if the question prevented him saying any more.But K. wanted him to continue speaking and said, "Well, positions likethat, that aren't officially acknowledged, can often have more influencethan those that are." "And that's how it is with me," said the painter,and nodded with a frown. "I was talking about your case with themanufacturer yesterday, and he asked me if I wouldn't like to help you,and I answered: 'He can come and see me if he likes,' and now I'mpleased to see you here so soon. This business seems to be quiteimportant to you, and, of course, I'm not surprised at that. Would younot like to take your coat off now?" K. had intended to stay for only avery short time, but the painter's invitation was nonetheless verywelcome. The air in the room had slowly become quite oppressive for him,he had several times looked in amazement at a small, iron stove in thecorner that certainly could not have been lit, the heat of the room wasinexplicable. As he took off his winter overcoat and also unbuttonedhis frock coat the painter said to him in apology, "I must have warmth.And it is very cosy here, isn't it. This room's very good in thatrespect." K. made no reply, but it was actually not the heat that madehim uncomfortable but, much more, the stuffiness, the air that almostmade it more difficult to breathe, the room had probably not beenventilated for a long time. The unpleasantness of this was made all thestronger for K. when the painter invited him to sit on the bed while hehimself sat down on the only chair in the room in front of the easel.The painter even seemed to misunderstand why K. remained at the edge ofthe bed and urged K. to make himself comfortable, and as he hesitatedhe went over to the bed himself and pressed K. deep down into thebedclothes and pillows. Then he went back to his seat and at last heasked his first objective question, which made K. forget everythingelse. "You're innocent, are you?" he asked. "Yes," said K. He felt asimple joy at answering this question, especially as the answer wasgiven to a private individual and therefore would have no consequences.Up till then no-one had asked him this question so openly. To make themost of his pleasure he added, "I am totally innocent." "So," said thepainter, and he lowered his head and seemed to be thinking. Suddenly heraised his head again and said, "Well if you're innocent it's all verysimple." K. began to scowl, this supposed trustee of the court wastalking like an ignorant child. "My being innocent does not make thingssimple," said K. Despite everything, he couldn't help smiling andslowly shook his head. "There are many fine details in which the courtgets lost, but in the end it reaches into some place where originallythere was nothing and pulls enormous guilt out of it." "Yeah, yeah,sure," said the painter, as if K. had been disturbing his train ofthought for no reason. "But you are innocent, aren't you?" "Well ofcourse I am," said K. "That's the main thing," said the painter. Therewas no counter-argument that could influence him, but although he hadmade up his mind it was not clear whether he was talking this waybecause of conviction or indifference. K., then, wanted to find out andsaid therefore, "I'm sure you're more familiar with the court than I am,I know hardly more about it than what I've heard, and that's been frommany very different people. But they were all agreed on one thing, andthat was that when ill thought-out accusations are made they are notignored, and that once the court has made an accusation it is convincedof the guilt of the defendant and it's very hard to make it thinkotherwise." "Very hard?" the painter asked, throwing one hand up in theair. "It's impossible to make it think otherwise. If I painted all thejudges next to each other here on canvas, and you were trying to defendyourself in front of it, you'd have more success with them than you'dever have with the real court." "Yes," said K. to himself, forgettingthat he had only gone there to investigate the painter.

One of the girls behind the door started up again, and asked,"Titorelli, is he going to go soon?" "Quiet!" shouted the painter atthe door, "Can't you see I'm talking with the gentleman?" But this wasnot enough to satisfy the girl and she asked, "You going to paint hispicture?" And when the painter didn't answer she added, "Please don'tpaint him, he's an 'orrible bloke." There followed an incomprehensible,interwoven babble of shouts and replies and calls of agreement. Thepainter leapt over to the door, opened it very slightly—the girls'clasped hands could be seen stretching through the crack as if theywanted something—and said, "If you're not quiet I'll throw you alldown the stairs. Sit down here on the steps and be quiet." They probablydid not obey him immediately, so that he had to command, "Down on thesteps!" Only then it became quiet.

"I'm sorry about that," said the painter as he returned to K. K. hadhardly turned towards the door, he had left it completely up to thepainter whether and how he would place him under his protection if hewanted to. Even now, he made hardly any movement as the painter bentover him and, whispering into his ear in order not to be heard outside,said, "These girls belong to the court as well." "How's that?" askedK., as he leant his head to one side and looked at the painter. But thepainter sat back down on his chair and, half in jest, half inexplanation, "Well, everything belongs to the court." "That issomething I had never noticed until now," said K. curtly, this generalcomment of the painter's made his comment about the girls far lessdisturbing. Nonetheless, K. looked for a while at the door, behind whichthe girls were now sitting quietly on the steps. Except, that one ofthem had pushed a drinking straw through a crack between the planks andwas moving it slowly up and down. "You still don't seem to have muchgeneral idea of what the court's about," said the painter, who hadstretched his legs wide apart and was tapping loudly on the floor withthe tip of his foot. "But as you're innocent you won't need it anyway.I'll get you out of this by myself." "How do you intend to do that?"asked K. "You did say yourself not long ago that it's quite impossibleto go to the court with reasons and proofs." "Only impossible forreasons and proofs you take to the court yourself," said the painter,raising his forefinger as if K. had failed to notice a fine distinction."It goes differently if you try to do something behind the public court,that's to say in the consultation rooms, in the corridors or here, forinstance, in my studio." K. now began to find it far easier to believewhat the painter was saying, or rather it was largely in agreement withwhat he had also been told by others. In fact it was even quitepromising. If it really was so easy to influence the judges throughpersonal contacts as the lawyer had said then the painter's contactswith these vain judges was especially important, and at the very leastshould not be undervalued. And the painter would fit in very well in thecircle of assistants that K. was slowly gathering around himself. He hadbeen noted at the bank for his talent in organising, here, where he wasplaced entirely on his own resources, would be a good opportunity totest that talent to its limits. The painter observed the effect hisexplanation had had on K. and then, with a certain unease, said, "Doesit not occur to you that the way I'm speaking is almost like a lawyer?It's the incessant contact with the gentlemen of the court has thatinfluence on me. I gain a lot by it, of course, but I lose a lot,artistically speaking." "How did you first come into contact with thejudges, then?" asked K., he wanted first to gain the painter's trustbefore he took him into his service. "That was very easy," said thepainter, "I inherited these contacts. My father was court painter beforeme. It's a position that's always inherited. They can't use new peoplefor it, the rules governing how the various grades of officials arepainted are so many and varied, and, above all, so secret that no-oneoutside of certain families even knows them. In the drawer there, forinstance, I've got my father's notes, which I don't show to anyone. Butyou're only able to paint judges if you know what they say. Although,even if I lost them no-one could ever dispute my position because of allthe rules I just carry round in my head. All the judges want to bepainted like the old, great judges were, and I'm the only one who can dothat." "You are to be envied," said K., thinking of his position at thebank. "Your position is quite unassailable, then?" "Yes, quiteunassailable," said the painter, and he raised his shoulders in pride."That's how I can even afford to help some poor man facing trial now andthen." "And how do you do that?" asked K., as if the painter had notjust described him as a poor man. The painter did not let himself bedistracted, but said, "In your case, for instance, as you're totallyinnocent, this is what I'll do." The repeated mention of K.'s innocencewas becoming irksome to him. It sometimes seemed to him as if thepainter was using these comments to make a favourable outcome to thetrial a precondition for his help, which of course would make the helpitself unnecessary. But despite these doubts K. forced himself not tointerrupt the painter. He did not want to do without the painter's help,that was what he had decided, and this help did not seem in any way lessquestionable than that of the lawyer. K. valued the painter's help farmore highly because it was offered in a way that was more harmless andopen.

The painter had pulled his seat closer to the bed and continued in asubdued voice: "I forgot to ask you: what sort of acquittal is it youwant. There are three possibilities: absolute acquittal, apparentacquittal and deferment. Absolute acquittal is the best, of course,only there's nothing I could do to get that sort of outcome. I don'tthink there's anyone at all who could do anything to get an absoluteacquittal. Probably the only thing that could do that is if the accusedis innocent. As you are innocent it could actually be possible and youcould depend on your innocence alone. In that case you won't need me orany other kind of help."

At first, K. was astonished at this orderly explanation, but then, justas quietly as the painter, he said, "I think you're contradictingyourself." "How's that?" asked the painter patiently, leaning back witha smile. This smile made K. feel as if he were examining not the wordsof the painter but seeking out inconsistencies in the procedures of thecourt itself. Nonetheless, he continued unabashed and said, "Youremarked earlier that the court cannot be approached with reasonedproofs, you later restricted this to the open court, and now you go sofar as to say that an innocent man needs no assistance in court. Thatentails a contradiction. Moreover, you said earlier that the judges canbe influenced personally but now you insist that an absolute acquittal,as you call it, can never be attained through personal influence. Thatentails a second contradiction." "It's quite easy to clear up thesecontradictions," said the painter. "We're talking about two differentthings here, there's what it says in the law and there's what I knowfrom my own experience, you shouldn't get the two confused. I've neverseen it in writing, but the law does, of course, say on the one handthat the innocent will be set free, but on the other hand it doesn'tsay that the judges can be influenced. But in my experience it's theother way round. I don't know of any absolute acquittals but I do knowof many times when a judge has been influenced. It's possible, ofcourse, that there was no innocence in any of the cases I know about.But is that likely? Not a single innocent defendant in so many cases?When I was a boy I used to listen closely to my father when he told usabout court cases at home, and the judges that came to his studio talkedabout the court, in our circles nobody talks about anything else; Ihardly ever got the chance to go to court myself but always made use ofit when I could, I've listened to countless trials at important stagesin their development, I've followed them closely as far as they couldbe followed, and I have to say that I've never seen a singleacquittal." "So. Not a single acquittal," said K., as if talking tohimself and his hopes. "That confirms the impression I already have ofthe court. So there's no point in it from this side either. They couldreplace the whole court with a single hangman." "You shouldn'tgeneralise," said the painter, dissatisfied, "I've only been talkingabout my own experience." "Well that's enough," said K., "or have youheard of any acquittals that happened earlier?" "They say there havebeen some acquittals earlier," the painter answered, "but it's very hardto be sure about it. The courts don't make their final conclusionspublic, not even the judges are allowed to know about them, so that allwe know about these earlier cases are just legends. But most of them didinvolve absolute acquittals, you can believe that, but they can't beproved. On the other hand, you shouldn't forget all about them either,I'm sure there is some truth to them, and they are very beautiful, I'vepainted a few pictures myself depicting these legends." "My assessmentwill not be altered by mere legends," said K. "I don't suppose it'spossible to cite these legends in court, is it?" The painter laughed."No, you can't cite them in court," he said. "Then there's no point intalking about them," said K., he wanted, for the time being, to acceptanything the painter told him, even if he thought it unlikely orcontradicted what he had been told by others. He did not now have thetime to examine the truth of everything the painter said or even todisprove it, he would have achieved as much as he could if the painterwould help him in any way even if his help would not be decisive. As aresult, he said, "So let's pay no more attention to absolute acquittal,but you mentioned two other possibilities." "Apparent acquittal anddeferment. They're the only possibilities," said the painter. "Butbefore we talk about them, would you not like to take your coat off? Youmust be hot." "Yes," said K., who until then had paid attention tonothing but the painter's explanations, but now that he had had the heatpointed out to him his brow began to sweat heavily. "It's almostunbearable." The painter nodded as if he understood K.'s discomfort verywell. "Could we not open the window?" asked K. "No," said the painter."It's only a fixed pane of glass, it can't be opened." K. now realisedthat all this time he had been hoping the painter would suddenly go overto the window and pull it open. He had prepared himself even for the fogthat he would breathe in through his open mouth. The thought that herehe was entirely cut off from the air made him feel dizzy. He tappedlightly on the bedspread beside him and, with a weak voice, said, "Thatis very inconvenient and unhealthy." "Oh no," said the painter indefence of his window, "as it can't be opened this room retains the heatbetter than if the window were double glazed, even though it's only asingle pane. There's not much need to air the room as there's so muchventilation through the gaps in the wood, but when I do want to I canopen one of my doors, or even both of them." K. was slightly consoledby this explanation and looked around to see where the second door was.The painter saw him do so and said, "It's behind you, I had to hide itbehind the bed." Only then was K. able to see the little door in thewall. "It's really much too small for a studio here," said the painter,as if he wanted to anticipate an objection K. would make. "I had toarrange things as well as I could. That's obviously a very bad place forthe bed, in front of the door. For instance when the judge I'm paintingat present comes he always comes through the door by the bed, and I'veeven given him a key to this door so that he can wait for me here in thestudio when I'm not home. Although nowadays he usually comes early inthe morning when I'm still asleep. And of course, it always wakes me upwhen I hear the door opened beside the bed, however fast asleep I am. Ifyou could hear the way I curse him as he climbs over my bed in themorning you'd lose all respect for judges. I suppose I could take thekey away from him but that'd only make things worse. It only takes atiny effort to break any of the doors here off their hinges." All thetime the painter was speaking, K. was considering whether he should takeoff his coat, but he finally realised that, if he didn't do so, he wouldbe quite unable to stay here any longer, so he took off his frock coatand lay it on his knee so that he could put it back on again as soon asthe conversation was over. He had hardly done this when one of the girlscalled out, "Now he's taken his coat off!" and they could all be heardpressing around the gaps in the planks to see the spectacle forthemselves. "The girls think I'm going to paint your portrait," said thepainter, "and that's why you're taking your coat off." "I see," said K.,only slightly amused by this, as he felt little better than he hadbefore even though he now sat in his shirtsleeves. With some irritationhe asked, "What did you say the two other possibilities were?" He hadalready forgotten the terms used. "Apparent acquittal and deferment,"said the painter. "It's up to you which one you choose. You can geteither of them if I help you, but it'll take some effort of course, thedifference between them is that apparent acquittal needs concentratedeffort for a while and that deferment takes much less effort but it hasto be sustained. Now then, apparent acquittal. If that's what you wantI'll write down an assertion of your innocence on a piece of paper. Thetext for an assertion of this sort was passed down to me from my fatherand it's quite unassailable. I take this assertion round to the judges Iknow. So I'll start off with the one I'm currently painting, and putthe assertion to him when he comes for his sitting this evening. I'lllay the assertion in front of him, explain that you're innocent and givehim my personal guarantee of it. And that's not just a superficialguarantee, it's a real one and it's binding." The painter's eyes seemedto show some reproach of K. for wanting to impose that sort ofresponsibility on him. "That would be very kind of you," said K. "Andwould the judge then believe you and nonetheless not pass an absoluteacquittal?" "It's like I just said," answered the painter. "And anyway,it's not entirely sure that all the judges would believe me, many ofthem, for instance, might want me to bring you to see them personally.So then you'd have to come along too. But at least then, if thathappens, the matter is half way won, especially as I'd teach you inadvance exactly how you'd need to act with the judge concerned, ofcourse. What also happens, though, is that there are some judges who'llturn me down in advance, and that's worse. I'll certainly make severalattempts, but still, we'll have to forget about them, but at least wecan afford to do that as no one judge can pass the decisive verdict.Then when I've got enough judges' signatures on this document I take itto the judge who's concerned with your case. I might even have hissignature already, in which case things develop a bit quicker than theywould do otherwise. But there aren't usually many hold ups from thenon, and that's the time that the defendant can feel most confident.It's odd, but true, that people feel more confidence in this time thanthey do after they've been acquitted. There's no particular exertionneeded now. When he has the document asserting the defendant'sinnocence, guaranteed by a number of other judges, the judge can acquityou without any worries, and although there are still severalformalities to be gone through there's no doubt that that's what he'lldo as a favour to me and several other acquaintances. You, however, walkout the court and you're free." "So, then I'll be free," said K.,hesitantly. "That's right," said the painter, "but only apparently freeor, to put it a better way, temporarily free, as the most junior judges,the ones I know, they don't have the right to give the final acquittal.Only the highest judge can do that, in the court that's quite out ofreach for you, for me and for all of us. We don't know how things lookthere and, incidentally, we don't want to know. The right to acquitpeople is a major privilege and our judges don't have it, but they dohave the right to free people from the indictment. That's to say, ifthey're freed in this way then for the time being the charge iswithdrawn but it's still hanging over their heads and it only takes anorder from higher up to bring it back into force. And as I'm in suchgood contact with the court I can also tell you how the differencebetween absolute and apparent acquittal is described, just in asuperficial way, in the directives to the court offices. If there's anabsolute acquittal all proceedings should stop, everything disappearsfrom the process, not just the indictment but the trial and even theacquittal disappears, everything just disappears. With an apparentacquittal it's different. When that happens, nothing has changed exceptthat the case for your innocence, for your acquittal and the grounds forthe acquittal have been made stronger. Apart from that, proceedings goon as before, the court offices continue their business and the casegets passed to higher courts, gets passed back down to the lower courtsand so on, backwards and forwards, sometimes faster, sometimes slower,to and fro. It's impossible to know exactly what's happening while thisis going on. Seen from outside it can sometimes seem that everything hasbeen long since forgotten, the documents have been lost and theacquittal is complete. No-one familiar with the court would believe it.No documents ever get lost, the court forgets nothing. One day—no-oneexpects it—some judge or other picks up the documents and looks moreclosely at them, he notices that this particular case is still active,and orders the defendant's immediate arrest. I've been talking here asif there's a long delay between apparent acquittal and re-arrest, thatis quite possible and I do know of cases like that, but it's just aslikely that the defendant goes home after he's been acquitted and findssomebody there waiting to re-arrest him. Then, of course, his life as afree man is at an end." "And does the trial start over again?" asked K.,finding it hard to believe. "The trial will always start over again,"said the painter, "but there is, once again as before, the possibilityof getting an apparent acquittal. Once again, the accused has to musterall his strength and mustn't give up." The painter said that last phrasepossibly as a result of the impression that K., whose shoulders haddropped somewhat, gave on him. "But to get a second acquittal," askedK., as if in anticipation of further revelations by the painter, "isthat not harder to get than the first time?" "As far as that'sconcerned," answered the painter, "there's nothing you can say forcertain. You mean, do you, that the second arrest would have an adverseinfluence on the judge and the verdict he passes on the defendant.That's not how it happens. When the acquittal is passed the judges arealready aware that re-arrest is likely. So when it happens it has hardlyany effect. But there are countless other reasons why the judges' moodand their legal acumen in the case can be altered, and efforts to obtainthe second acquittal must therefore be suited to the new conditions, andgenerally just as vigorous as the first." "But this second acquittalwill once again not be final," said K., shaking his head. "Of coursenot," said the painter, "the second acquittal is followed by the thirdarrest, the third acquittal by the fourth arrest and so on. That's whatis meant by the term apparent acquittal." K. was silent. "You clearlydon't think an apparent acquittal offers much advantage," said thepainter, "perhaps deferment would suit you better. Would you like me toexplain what deferment is about?" K. nodded. The painter had leant backand spread himself out in his chair, his nightshirt was wide open, hehad pushed his hand inside and was stroking his breast and his sides."Deferment," said the painter, looking vaguely in front of himself for awhile as if trying to find a perfectly appropriate explanation,"deferment consists of keeping proceedings permanently in their earlieststages. To do that, the accused and those helping him need to keep incontinuous personal contact with the court, especially those helpinghim. I repeat, this doesn't require so much effort as getting anapparent acquittal, but it probably requires a lot more attention. Youmust never let the trial out of your sight, you have to go and see theappropriate judge at regular intervals as well as when something inparticular comes up and, whatever you do, you have to try and remainfriendly with him; if you don't know the judge personally you have toinfluence him through the judges you do know, and you have to do itwithout giving up on the direct discussions. As long as you don't failto do any of these things you can be reasonably sure the trial won't getpast its first stages. The trial doesn't stop, but the defendant isalmost as certain of avoiding conviction as if he'd been acquitted.Compared with an apparent acquittal, deferment has the advantage thatthe defendant's future is less uncertain, he's safe from the shock ofbeing suddenly re-arrested and doesn't need to fear the exertions andstress involved in getting an apparent acquittal just when everythingelse in his life would make it most difficult. Deferment does havecertain disadvantages of its own though, too, and they shouldn't beunder-estimated. I don't mean by this that the defendant is never free,he's never free in the proper sense of the word with an apparentacquittal either. There's another disadvantage. Proceedings can't beprevented from moving forward unless there are some at least ostensiblereasons given. So something needs to seem to be happening when looked atfrom the outside. This means that from time to time various injunctionshave to be obeyed, the accused has to be questioned, investigations haveto take place and so on. The trial's been artificially constrainedinside a tiny circle, and it has to be continuously spun round withinit. And that, of course, brings with it certain unpleasantnesses for theaccused, although you shouldn't imagine they're all that bad. All ofthis is just for show, the interrogations, for instance, they're onlyvery short, if you ever don't have the time or don't feel like going tothem you can offer an excuse, with some judges you can even arrange theinjunctions together a long time in advance, in essence all it means isthat, as the accused, you have to report to the judge from time totime." Even while the painter was speaking those last words K. had laidhis coat over his arm and had stood up. Immediately, from outside thedoor, there was a cry of "He's standing up now!" "Are you leavingalready?" asked the painter, who had also stood up. "It must be the airthat's driving you out. I'm very sorry about that. There's still a lot Ineed to tell you. I had to put everything very briefly but I hope atleast it was all clear." "Oh yes," said K., whose head was aching fromthe effort of listening. Despite this affirmation the painter summed itall up once more, as if he wanted to give K. something to console him onhis way home. "Both have in common that they prevent the defendant beingconvicted," he said. "But they also prevent his being properlyacquitted," said K. quietly, as if ashamed to acknowledge it. "You'vegot it, in essence," said the painter quickly. K. placed his hand on hiswinter overcoat but could not bring himself to put it on. Most of all hewould have liked to pack everything together and run out to the freshair. Not even the girls could induce him to put his coat on, even thoughthey were already loudly telling each other that he was doing so. Thepainter still had to interpret K.'s mood in some way, so he said, "Iexpect you've deliberately avoided deciding between my suggestions yet.That's good. I would even have advised against making a decisionstraight away. There's no more than a hair's breadth of differencebetween the advantages and disadvantages. Everything has to be carefullyweighed up. But the most important thing is you shouldn't lose too muchtime." "I'll come back here again soon," said K., who had suddenlydecided to put his frock coat on, threw his overcoat over his shoulderand hurried over to the door behind which the girls now began to scream.K. thought he could even see the screaming girls through the door."Well, you'll have to keep your word," said the painter, who had notfollowed him, "otherwise I'll come to the bank to ask about it myself.""Will you open this door for me," said K. pulling at the handle which,as he noticed from the resistance, was being held tightly by the girlson the other side. "Do you want to be bothered by the girls?" asked thepainter. "It's better if you use the other way out," he said, pointingto the door behind the bed. K. agreed to this and jumped back to thebed. But instead of opening that door the painter crawled under the bedand from underneath it asked K., "Just a moment more, would you not liketo see a picture I could sell to you?" K. did not want to be impolite,the painter really had taken his side and promised to help him more inthe future, and because of K.'s forgetfulness there had been no mentionof any payment for the painter's help, so K. could not turn him down nowand allowed him to show him the picture, even though he was quiveringwith impatience to get out of the studio. From under the bed, thepainter withdrew a pile of unframed paintings. They were so covered indust that when the painter tried to blow it off the one on top the dustswirled around in front of K.'s eyes, robbing him of breath for sometime. "Moorland landscape," said the painter passing the picture to K.It showed two sickly trees, well separated from each other in darkgrass. In the background there was a multi-coloured sunset. "That'snice," said K. "I'll buy it." K. expressed himself in this curt waywithout any thought, so he was glad when the painter did not take thisamiss and picked up a second painting from the floor. "This is acounterpart to the first picture," said the painter. Perhaps it had beenintended as a counterpart, but there was not the slightest difference tobe seen between it and the first picture, there were the trees, therethe grass and there the sunset. But this was of little importance to K."They are beautiful landscapes," he said, "I'll buy them both and hangthem in my office." "You seem to like this subject," said the painter,picking up a third painting, "good job I've still got another, similarpicture here." The picture though, was not similar, rather it wasexactly the same moorland landscape. The painter was fully exploitingthis opportunity to sell off his old pictures. "I'll take this one too,"said K. "How much do the three paintings cost?" "We can talk about thatnext time," said the painter. "You're in a hurry now, and we'll still bein contact. And besides, I'm glad you like the paintings, I'll give youall the paintings I've got down here. They're all moorland landscapes,I've painted a lot of moorland landscapes. A lot of people don't likethat sort of picture because they're too gloomy, but there are others,and you're one of them, who love gloomy themes." But K. was not in themood to hear about the professional experiences of this painter cumbeggar. "Wrap them all up!" he called out, interrupting the painter ashe was speaking, "my servant will come to fetch them in the morning.""There's no need for that," said the painter. "I expect I can find aporter for you who can go with you now." And, at last, he leant over thebed and unlocked the door. "Just step on the bed, don't worry aboutthat," said the painter, "that's what everyone does who comes in here."Even without this invitation, K. had shown no compunction in alreadyplacing his foot in the middle of the bed covers, then he looked outthrough the open door and drew his foot back again. "What is that?" heasked the painter. "What are you so surprised at?" he asked, surprisedin his turn. "Those are court offices. Didn't you know there are courtoffices here. There are court offices in almost every attic, why shouldthis building be any different? Even my studio is actually one of thecourt offices but the court put it at my disposal." It was not so muchfinding court offices even here that shocked K., he was mainly shockedat himself, at his own naïvety in court matters. It seemed to him thatone of the most basic rules governing how a defendant should behave wasalways to be prepared, never allow surprises, never to look,unsuspecting, to the right when the judge stood beside him to hisleft—and this was the very basic rule that he was continuallyviolating. A long corridor extended in front of him, air blew in from itwhich, compared with the air in the studio, was refreshing. There werebenches set along each side of the corridor just as in the waiting areafor the office he went to himself. There seemed to be precise rulesgoverning how offices should be equipped. There did not seem to be manypeople visiting the offices that day. There was a man there, halfsitting, half laying, his face was buried in his arm on the bench and heseemed to be sleeping; another man was standing in the half-dark at theend of the corridor. K. now climbed over the bed, the painter followedhim with the pictures. They soon came across a servant of the court—K.was now able to recognise all the servants of the court from the goldbuttons they wore on their civilian clothes below the normalbuttons—and the painter instructed him to go with K. carrying thepictures. K. staggered more than he walked, his handkerchief pressedover his mouth. They had nearly reached the exit when the girls stormedin on them, so K. had not been able to avoid them. They had clearly seenthat the second door of the studio had been opened and had gone aroundto impose themselves on him from this side. "I can't come with you anyfurther!" called out the painter with a laugh as the girls pressed in."Goodbye, and don't hesitate too long!" K. did not even look round athim. Once on the street he took the first cab he came across. He now hadto get rid of the servant, whose gold button continually caught his eyeeven if it caught no-one else's. As a servant, the servant of the courtwas going to sit on the coach-box. But K. chased him down from there. Itwas already well into the afternoon when K. arrived in front of thebank. He would have liked to leave the pictures in the cab but fearedthere might be some occasion when he would have to let the painter seehe still had them. So he had the pictures taken to his office and lockedthem in the lowest drawer of his desk so that he could at least keepthem safe from the deputy director's view for the next few days.

Chapter Eight

Block, the businessman—Dismissing the lawyer

K. had at last made the decision to withdraw his defence from thelawyer. It was impossible to remove his doubts as to whether this wasthe right decision, but this was outweighed by his belief in itsnecessity. This decision, on the day he intended to go to see thelawyer, took a lot of the strength he needed for his work, he workedexceptionally slowly, he had to remain in his office a long time, andit was already past ten o'clock when he finally stood in front of thelawyer's front door. Even before he rang he considered whether it mightnot be better to give the lawyer notice by letter or telephone, apersonal conversation would certainly be very difficult. Nonetheless,K. did not actually want to do without it, if he gave notice by anyother means it would be received in silence or with a few formulatedwords, and unless Leni could discover anything K. would never learn howthe lawyer had taken his dismissal and what its consequences might be,in the lawyer's not unimportant opinion. But sitting in front of himand taken by surprise by his dismissal, K. would be able easily toinfer everything he wanted from the lawyer's face and behaviour, even ifhe could not be induced to say very much. It was not even out of thequestion that K. might, after all, be persuaded that it would be bestto leave his defence to the lawyer and withdraw his dismissal.

As usual, there was at first no response to K.'s ring at the door."Leni could be a bit quicker," thought K. But he could at least be gladthere was nobody else interfering as usually happened, be it the man inhis nightshirt or anyone else who might bother him. As K. pressed onthe button for the second time he looked back at the other door, butthis time it, too, remained closed. At last, two eyes appeared at thespy-hatch in the lawyer's door, although they weren't Leni's eyes.Someone unlocked the door, but kept himself pressed against it as hecalled back inside, "It's him!", and only then did he open the doorproperly. K. pushed against the door, as behind him he could alreadyhear the key being hurriedly turned in the lock of the door to theother flat. When the door in front of him finally opened, he stormedstraight into the hallway. Through the corridor which led between therooms he saw Leni, to whom the warning cry of the door opener had beendirected, still running away in her nightshirt. He looked at her for amoment and then looked round at the person who had opened the door. Itwas a small, wizened man with a full beard, he held a candle in hishand. "Do you work here?" asked K. "No," answered the man, "I don'tbelong here at all, the lawyer is only representing me, I'm here onlegal business." "Without your coat?" asked K., indicating the man'sdeficiency of dress with a gesture of his hand. "Oh, do forgive me!"said the man, and he looked at himself in the light of the candle he washolding as if he had not known about his appearance until then. "Is Leniyour lover?" asked K. curtly. He had set his legs slightly apart, hishands, in which he held his hat, were behind his back. Merely by beingin possession of a thick overcoat he felt his advantage over this thinlittle man. "Oh God," he said and, shocked, raised one hand in front ofhis face as if in defence, "no, no, what can you be thinking?" "You lookhonest enough," said K. with a smile, "but come along anyway." K.indicated with his hat which way the man was to go and let him go aheadof him. "What is your name then?" asked K. on the way. "Block. I'm abusinessman," said the small man, twisting himself round as he thusintroduced himself, although K. did not allow him to stop moving. "Isthat your real name?" asked K. "Of course it is," was the man's reply,"why do you doubt it?" "I thought you might have some reason to keepyour name secret," said K. He felt himself as much at liberty as isnormally only felt in foreign parts when speaking with people of lowerstanding, keeping everything about himself to himself, speaking onlycasually about the interests of the other, able to raise him to a levelabove one's own, but also able, at will, to let him drop again. K.stopped at the door of the lawyer's office, opened it and, to thebusinessman who had obediently gone ahead, called, "Not so fast! Bringsome light here!" K. thought Leni might have hidden in here, he let thebusinessman search in every corner, but the room was empty. In front ofthe picture of the judge K. took hold of the businessman's braces tostop him moving on. "Do you know him?" he asked, pointing upwards withhis finger. The businessman lifted the candle, blinked as he looked upand said, "It's a judge." "An important judge?" asked K., and stood tothe side and in front of the businessman so that he could observe whatimpression the picture had on him. The businessman was looking up inadmiration. "He's an important judge." "You don't have much insight,"said K. "He is the lowest of the lowest examining judges." "I remembernow," said the businessman as he lowered the candle, "that's what I'vealready been told." "Well of course you have," called out K., "I'dforgotten about it, of course you would already have been told." "Butwhy, why?" asked the businessman as he moved forwards towards the door,propelled by the hands of K. Outside in the corridor K. said, "You knowwhere Leni's hidden, do you?" "Hidden?" said the businessman, "No, butshe might be in the kitchen cooking soup for the lawyer." "Why didn'tyou say that immediately?" asked K. "I was going to take you there, butyou called me back again," answered the businessman, as if confused bythe contradictory commands. "You think you're very clever, don't you,"said K., "now take me there!" K. had never been in the kitchen, it wassurprisingly big and very well equipped. The stove alone was threetimes bigger than normal stoves, but it was not possible to see anydetail beyond this as the kitchen was at the time illuminated by no morethan a small lamp hanging by the entrance. At the stove stood Leni, in awhite apron as always, breaking eggs into a pot standing on a spiritlamp. "Good evening, Josef," she said with a glance sideways. "Goodevening," said K., pointing with one hand to a chair in a corner whichthe businessman was to sit on, and he did indeed sit down on it. K.however went very close behind Leni's back, leant over her shoulder andasked, "Who is this man?" Leni put one hand around K. as she stirred thesoup with the other, she drew him forward toward herself and said, "He'sa pitiful character, a poor businessman by the name of Block. Just lookat him." The two of them looked back over their shoulders. Thebusinessman was sitting on the chair that K. had directed him to, hehad extinguished the candle whose light was no longer needed and pressedon the wick with his fingers to stop the smoke. "You were in yournightshirt," said K., putting his hand on her head and turning it backtowards the stove. She was silent. "Is he your lover?" asked K. She wasabout to take hold of the pot of soup, but K. took both her hands andsaid, "Answer me!" She said, "Come into the office, I'll explaineverything to you." "No," said K., "I want you to explain it here." Sheput her arms around him and wanted to kiss him. K., though, pushed heraway and said, "I don't want you to kiss me now." "Josef," said Leni,looking at K. imploringly but frankly in the eyes, "you're not going tobe jealous of Mr. Block now, are you. Rudi," she then said, turning tothe businessman, "help me out will you, I'm being suspected ofsomething, you can see that, leave the candle alone." It had looked asthough Mr. Block had not been paying attention but he had beenfollowing closely. "I don't even know why you might be jealous," hesaid ingenuously. "Nor do I, actually," said K., looking at thebusinessman with a smile. Leni laughed out loud and while K. was notpaying attention took the opportunity of embracing him and whispering,"Leave him alone, now, you can see what sort of person he is. I've beenhelping him a little bit because he's an important client of thelawyer's, and no other reason. And what about you? Do you want to speakto the lawyer at this time of day? He's very unwell today, but if youwant I'll tell him you're here. But you can certainly spend the nightwith me. It's so long since you were last here, even the lawyer has beenasking about you. Don't neglect your case! And I've got some things totell you that I've learned about. But now, before anything else, takeyour coat off!" She helped him off with his coat, took the hat off hishead, ran with the things into the hallway to hang them up, then she ranback and saw to the soup. "Do you want me to tell him you're herestraight away or take him his soup first?" "Tell him I'm here first,"said K. He was in a bad mood, he had originally intended a detaileddiscussion of his business with Leni, especially the question of hisgiving the lawyer notice, but now he no longer wanted to because of thepresence of the businessman. Now he considered his affair too importantto let this little businessman take part in it and perhaps change someof his decisions, and so he called Leni back even though she was alreadyon her way to the lawyer. "Bring him his soup first," he said, "I wanthim to get his strength up for the discussion with me, he'll need it.""You're a client of the lawyer's too, aren't you," said the businessmanquietly from his corner as if he were trying to find this out. It wasnot, however, taken well. "What business is that of yours?" said K., andLeni said, "Will you be quiet.—I'll take him his soup first then, shallI?" And she poured the soup into a dish. "The only worry then is thathe might go to sleep soon after he's eaten." "What I've got to say tohim will keep him awake," said K., who still wanted to intimate that heintended some important negotiations with the lawyer, he wanted Leni toask him what it was and only then to ask her advice. But instead, shejust promptly carried out the order he had given her. When she wentover to him with the dish she deliberately brushed against him andwhispered, "I'll tell him you're here as soon as he's eaten the soup sothat I can get you back as soon as possible." "Just go," said K., "justgo." "Be a bit more friendly," she said and, still holding the dish,turned completely round once more in the doorway.

K. watched her as she went; the decision had finally been made that thelawyer was to be dismissed, it was probably better that he had not beenable to discuss the matter any more with Leni beforehand; she hardlyunderstood the complexity of the matter, she would certainly haveadvised him against it and perhaps would even have prevented him fromdismissing the lawyer this time, he would have remained in doubt andunease and eventually have carried out his decision after a whileanyway as this decision was something he could not avoid. The sooner itwas carried out the more harm would be avoided. And moreover, perhapsthe businessman had something to say on the matter.

K. turned round, the businessman hardly noticed it as he was about tostand up. "Stay where you are," said K. and pulled up a chair besidehim. "Have you been a client of the lawyer's for a long time?" asked K."Yes," said the businessman, "a very long time." "How many years has hebeen representing you so far, then?" asked K. "I don't know how youmean," said the businessman, "he's been my business lawyer—I buy andsell cereals—he's been my business lawyer since I took the businessover, and that's about twenty years now, but perhaps you mean my owntrial and he's been representing me in that since it started, andthat's been more than five years. Yes, well over five years," he thenadded, pulling out an old briefcase, "I've got everything written down;I can tell you the exact dates if you like. It's so hard to remembereverything. Probably, my trial's been going on much longer than that,it started soon after the death of my wife, and that's been more thanfive and a half years now." K. moved in closer to him. "So the lawyertakes on ordinary legal business, does he?" he asked. This combinationof criminal and commercial business seemed surprisingly reassuring forK. "Oh yes," said the businessman, and then he whispered, "They evensay he's more efficient in jurisprudence than he is in other matters."But then he seemed to regret saying this, and he laid a hand on K.'sshoulder and said, "Please don't betray me to him, will you." K. pattedhis thigh to reassure him and said, "No, I don't betray people." "Hecan be so vindictive, you see," said the businessman. "I'm sure he won'tdo anything against such a faithful client as you," said K. "Oh, hemight do," said the businessman, "when he gets cross it doesn't matterwho it is, and anyway, I'm not really faithful to him." "How's thatthen?" asked K. "I'm not sure I should tell you about it," said thebusinessman hesitantly. "I think it'll be alright," said K. "Well then,"said the businessman, "I'll tell you about some of it, but you'll haveto tell me a secret too, then we can support each other with thelawyer." "You are very careful," said K., "but I'll tell you a secretthat will set your mind completely at ease. Now tell me, in what wayhave you been unfaithful to the lawyer?" "I've ..." said the businessmanhesitantly, and in a tone as if he were confessing somethingdishonourable, "I've taken on other lawyers besides him." "That's not soserious," said K., a little disappointed. "It is, here," said thebusinessman, who had had some difficulty breathing since making hisconfession but who now, after hearing K.'s comment, began to feel moretrust for him. "That's not allowed. And it's allowed least of all totake on petty lawyers when you've already got a proper one. And that'sjust what I have done, besides him I've got five petty lawyers." "Five!"exclaimed K., astonished at this number, "Five lawyers besides thisone?" The businessman nodded. "I'm even negotiating with a sixth one.""But why do you need so many lawyers?" asked K. "I need all of them,"said the businessman. "Would you mind explaining that to me?" asked K."I'd be glad to," said the businessman. "Most of all, I don't want tolose my case, well that's obvious. So that means I mustn't neglectanything that might be of use to me; even if there's very little hope ofa particular thing being of any use I can't just throw it away. Soeverything I have I've put to use in my case. I've taken all the moneyout of my business, for example, the offices for my business used tooccupy nearly a whole floor, but now all I need is a little room at theback where I work with one apprentice. It wasn't just using up the moneythat caused the difficulty, of course, it was much more to do with menot working at the business as much as I used to. If you want to dosomething about your trial you don't have much time for anything else.""So you're also working at the court yourself?" asked K. "That's justwhat I want to learn more about." "I can't tell you very much aboutthat," said the businessman, "at first I tried to do that too but I soonhad to give it up again. It wears you out too much, and it's really notmuch use. And it turned out to be quite impossible to work thereyourself and to negotiate, at least for me it was. It's a heavy strainthere just sitting and waiting. You know yourself what the air is likein those offices." "How do you know I've been there, then?" asked K. "Iwas in the waiting room myself when you went through." "What acoincidence that is!" exclaimed K., totally engrossed and forgetting howridiculous the businessman had seemed to him earlier. "So you saw me!You were in the waiting room when I went through. Yes, I did go throughit one time." "It isn't such a big coincidence," said the businessman,"I'm there nearly every day." "I expect I'll have to go there quiteoften myself now," said K., "although I can hardly expect to be shownthe same respect as I was then. They all stood up for me. They must havethought I was a judge." "No," said the businessman, "we were greetingthe servant of the court. We knew you were a defendant. That sort ofnews spreads very quickly." "So you already knew about that," said K.,"the way I behaved must have seemed very arrogant to you. Did youcriticise me for it afterwards?" "No," said the businessman, "quite theopposite. That was just stupidity." "What do you mean, 'stupidity'?"asked K. "Why are you asking about it?" said the businessman in someirritation. "You still don't seem to know the people there and you mighttake it wrong. Don't forget in proceedings like this there are alwayslots of different things coming up to talk about, things that you justcan't understand with reason alone, you just get too tired anddistracted for most things and so, instead, people rely on superstition.I'm talking about the others, but I'm no better myself. One of thesesuperstitions, for example, is that you can learn a lot about theoutcome of a defendant's case by looking at his face, especially theshape of his lips. There are lots who believe that, and they said theycould see from the shape of your lips that you'd definitely be foundguilty very soon. I repeat that all this is just a ridiculoussuperstition, and in most cases it's completely disproved by the facts,but when you live in that society it's hard to hold yourself back frombeliefs like that. Just think how much effect that superstition canhave. You spoke to one of them there, didn't you? He was hardly able togive you an answer. There are lots of things there that can make youconfused, of course, but one of them, for him, was the appearance ofyour lips. He told us all later he thought he could see something inyour lips that meant he'd be convicted himself." "On my lips?" asked K.,pulling out a pocket mirror and examining himself. "I can see nothingspecial about my lips. Can you?" "Nor can I," said the businessman,"nothing at all." "These people are so superstitious!" exclaimed K."Isn't that what I just told you?" asked the businessman. "Do you thenhave that much contact with each other, exchanging each other'sopinions?" said K. "I've kept myself completely apart so far." "Theydon't normally have much contact with each other," said the businessman,"that would be impossible, there are so many of them. And they don'thave much in common either. If a group of them ever thinks they havefound something in common it soon turns out they were mistaken. There'snothing you can do as a group where the court's concerned. Each case isexamined separately, the court is very painstaking. So there's nothingto be achieved by forming into a group, only sometimes an individualwill achieve something in secret; and it's only when that's been donethe others learn about it; nobody knows how it was done. So there's nosense of togetherness, you meet people now and then in the waitingrooms, but we don't talk much there. The superstitious beliefs wereestablished a long time ago and they spread all by themselves." "I sawthose gentlemen in the waiting room," said K., "it seemed so pointlessfor them to be waiting in that way." "Waiting is not pointless," saidthe businessman, "it's only pointless if you try and interfere yourself.I told you just now I've got five lawyers besides this one. You mightthink—I thought it myself at first—you might think I could leave thewhole thing entirely up to them now. That would be entirely wrong. I canleave it up to them less than when I had just the one. Maybe you don'tunderstand that, do you?" "No," said K., and to slow the businessmandown, who had been speaking too fast, he laid his hand on thebusinessman's to reassure him, "but I'd like just to ask you to speak alittle more slowly, these are many very important things for me, and Ican't follow exactly what you're saying." "You're quite right to remindme of that," said the businessman, "you're new to all this, a junior.Your trial is six months old, isn't it. Yes, I've heard about it. Such anew case! But I've already thought all these things through countlesstimes, to me they're the most obvious things in the world." "You must beglad your trial has already progressed so far, are you?" asked K., hedid not wish to ask directly how the businessman's affairs stood, butreceived no clear answer anyway. "Yes, I've been working at my trial forfive years now," said the businessman as his head sank, "that's no smallachievement." Then he was silent for a while. K. listened to hearwhether Leni was on her way back. On the one hand he did not want her tocome back too soon as he still had many questions to ask and did notwant her to find him in this intimate discussion with the businessman,but on the other hand it irritated him that she stayed so long with thelawyer when K. was there, much longer than she needed to give him hissoup. "I still remember it exactly," the businessman began again, and K.immediately gave him his full attention, "when my case was as old asyours is now. I only had this one lawyer at that time but I wasn't verysatisfied with him." Now I'll find out everything, thought K., noddingvigorously as if he could thereby encourage the businessman to sayeverything worth knowing. "My case," the businessman continued, "didn'tmove on at all, there were some hearings that took place and I went toevery one of them, collected materials, handed all my business books tothe court—which I later found was entirely unnecessary—I ran back andforth to the lawyer, and he submitted various documents to the courttoo...." "Various documents?" asked K. "Yes, that's right," said thebusinessman. "That's very important for me," said K., "in my case he'sstill working on the first set of documents. He still hasn't doneanything. I see now that he's been neglecting me quite disgracefully.""There can be lots of good reasons why the first documents still aren'tready," said the businessman, "and anyway, it turned out later on thatthe ones he submitted for me were entirely worthless. I even read one ofthem myself, one of the officials at the court was very helpful. It wasvery learned, but it didn't actually say anything. Most of all, therewas lots of Latin, which I can't understand, then pages and pages ofgeneral appeals to the court, then lots of flattery for particularofficials, they weren't named, these officials, but anyone familiar withthe court must have been able to guess who they were, then there wasself-praise by the lawyer where he humiliated himself to the court in away that was downright dog-like, and then endless investigations ofcases from the past which were supposed to be similar to mine. Although,as far as I was able to follow them, these investigations had beencarried out very carefully. Now, I don't mean to criticise the lawyer'swork with all of this, and the document I read was only one of many, buteven so, and this is something I will say, at that time I couldn't seeany progress in my trial at all." "And what sort of progress had youbeen hoping for?" asked K. "That's a very sensible question," said thebusinessman with a smile, "it's only very rare that you see any progressin these proceedings at all. But I didn't know that then. I'm abusinessman, much more in those days than now, I wanted to see sometangible progress, it should have all been moving to some conclusion orat least should have been moving on in some way according to the rules.Instead of which there were just more hearings, and most of them wentthrough the same things anyway; I had all the answers off pat like in achurch service; there were messengers from the court coming to me atwork several times a week, or they came to me at home or anywhere elsethey could find me; and that was very disturbing of course (but at leastnow things are better in that respect, it's much less disturbing whenthey contact you by telephone), and rumours about my trial even startedto spread among some of the people I do business with, and especially myrelations, so I was being made to suffer in many different ways butthere was still not the slightest sign that even the first hearing wouldtake place soon. So I went to the lawyer and complained about it. Heexplained it all to me at length, but refused to do anything I askedfor, no-one has any influence on the way the trial proceeds, he said, totry and insist on it in any of the documents submitted—like I wasasking—was simply unheard of and would do harm to both him and me. Ithought to myself: What this lawyer can't or won't do another lawyerwill. So I looked round for other lawyers. And before you say anything:none of them asked for a definite date for the main trial and none ofthem got one, and anyway, apart from one exception which I'll talk aboutin a minute, it really is impossible, that's one thing this lawyerdidn't mislead me about; but besides, I had no reason to regret turningto other lawyers. Perhaps you've already heard how Dr. Huld talks aboutthe petty lawyers, he probably made them sound very contemptible to you,and he's right, they are contemptible. But when he talks about them andcompares them with himself and his colleagues there's a small errorrunning through what he says, and, just for your interest, I'll tell youabout it. When he talks about the lawyers he mixes with he sets themapart by calling them the 'great lawyers'. That's wrong, anyone can callhimself 'great' if he wants to, of course, but in this case only theusage of the court can make that distinction. You see, the court saysthat besides the petty lawyers there are also minor lawyers and greatlawyers. This one and his colleagues are only minor lawyers, and thedifference in rank between them and the great lawyers, who I've onlyever heard about and never seen, is incomparably greater than betweenthe minor lawyers and the despised petty lawyers." "The great lawyers?"asked K. "Who are they then? How do you contact them?" "You've neverheard about them, then?" said the businessman. "There's hardly anyonewho's been accused who doesn't spend a lot of time dreaming about thegreat lawyers once he's heard about them. It's best if you don't letyourself be misled in that way. I don't know who the great lawyers are,and there's probably no way of contacting them. I don't know of any caseI can talk about with certainty where they've taken any part. They dodefend a lot of people, but you can't get hold of them by your ownefforts, they only defend those who they want to defend. And I don'tsuppose they ever take on cases that haven't already got past the lowercourts. Anyway, it's best not to think about them, as if you do it makesthe discussions with the other lawyers, all their advice and all thatthey do manage to achieve, seem so unpleasant and useless, I had thatexperience myself, just wanted to throw everything away and lay at homein bed and hear nothing more about it. But that, of course, would be thestupidest thing you could do, and you wouldn't be left in peace in bedfor very long either." "So you weren't thinking about the great lawyersat that time?" asked K. "Not for very long," said the businessman, andsmiled again, "you can't forget about them entirely, I'm afraid,especially in the night when these thoughts come so easily. But I wantedimmediate results in those days, so I went to the petty lawyers."

"Well look at you two sat huddled together!" called Leni as she cameback with the dish and stood in the doorway. They were indeed sat closetogether, if either of them turned his head even slightly it would haveknocked against the other's, the businessman was not only very smallbut also sat hunched down, so that K. was also forced to bend down lowif he wanted to hear everything. "Not quite yet!" called out K., to turnLeni away, his hand, still resting on the businessman's hand, twitchingwith impatience. "He wanted me to tell him about my trial," said thebusinessman to Leni. "Carry on, then, carry on," she said. She spoke tothe businessman with affection but, at the same time, withcondescension. K. did not like that, he had begun to learn that the manwas of some value after all, he had experience at least, and he waswilling to share it. Leni was probably wrong about him. He watched herin irritation as Leni now took the candle from the businessman'shand—which he had been holding on to all this time—wiped his handwith her apron and then knelt beside him to scratch off some wax thathad dripped from the candle onto his trousers. "You were about to tellme about the petty lawyers," said K., shoving Leni's hand away with nofurther comment. "What's wrong with you today?" asked Leni, tapped himgently and carried on with what she had been doing. "Yes, the pettylawyers," said the businessman, putting his hand to his brow as ifthinking hard. K. wanted to help him and said, "You wanted immediateresults and so went to the petty lawyers." "Yes, that's right," saidthe businessman, but did not continue with what he'd been saying. "Maybehe doesn't want to speak about it in front of Leni," thought K.,suppressing his impatience to hear the rest straight away, and stoppedtrying to press him.

"Have you told him I'm here?" he asked Leni. "Course I have," she said,"he's waiting for you. Leave Block alone now, you can talk to Blocklater, he'll still be here." K. still hesitated. "You'll still behere?" he asked the businessman, wanting to hear the answer from him andnot wanting Leni to speak about the businessman as if he weren't there,he was full of secret resentment towards Leni today. And once more itwas only Leni who answered. "He often sleeps here." "He sleeps here?"exclaimed K., he had thought the businessman would just wait there forhim while he quickly settled his business with the lawyer, and thenthey would leave together to discuss everything thoroughly andundisturbed. "Yes," said Leni, "not everyone's like you, Josef, allowedto see the lawyer at any time you like. Don't even seem surprised thatthe lawyer, despite being ill, still receives you at eleven o'clock atnight. You take it far too much for granted, what your friends do foryou. Well, your friends, or at least I do, we like to do things for you.I don't want or need any more thanks than that you're fond of me." "Fondof you?" thought K. at first, and only then it occurred to him, "Well,yes, I am fond of her." Nonetheless, what he said, forgetting all therest, was, "He receives me because I am his client. If I needed anyoneelse's help I'd have to beg and show gratitude whenever I do anything.""He's really nasty today, isn't he?" Leni asked the businessman. "Nowit's me who's not here," thought K., and nearly lost his temper withthe businessman when, with the same rudeness as Leni, he said, "Thelawyer also has other reasons to receive him. His case is much moreinteresting than mine. And it's only in its early stages too, itprobably hasn't progressed very far so the lawyer still likes to dealwith him. That'll all change later on." "Yeah, yeah," said Leni, lookingat the businessman and laughing. "He doesn't half talk!" she said,turning to face K. "You can't believe a word he says. He's as talkativeas he is sweet. Maybe that's why the lawyer can't stand him. At least,he only sees him when he's in the right mood. I've already tried hard tochange that but it's impossible. Just think, there are times when I tellhim Block's here and he doesn't receive him until three days later. Andif Block isn't on the spot when he's called then everything's lost andit all has to start all over again. That's why I let Block sleep here,it wouldn't be the first time Dr. Huld has wanted to see him in thenight. So now Block is ready for that. Sometimes, when he knows Block isstill here, he'll even change his mind about letting him in to see him."K. looked questioningly at the businessman. The latter nodded and,although he had spoken quite openly with K. earlier, seemed to beconfused with shame as he said, "Yes, later on you become very dependenton your lawyer." "He's only pretending to mind," said Leni. "He likes tosleep here really, he's often said so." She went over to a little doorand shoved it open. "Do you want to see his bedroom?" she asked. K.went over to the low, windowless room and looked in from the doorway.The room contained a narrow bed which filled it completely, so that toget into the bed you would need to climb over the bedpost. At the headof the bed there was a niche in the wall where, fastidiously tidy, stooda candle, a bottle of ink, and a pen with a bundle of papers which wereprobably to do with the trial. "You sleep in the maid's room?" askedK., as he went back to the businessman. "Leni's let me have it,"answered the businessman, "it has many advantages." K. looked long athim; his first impression of the businessman had perhaps not been right;he had experience as his trial had already lasted a long time, but hehad paid a heavy price for this experience. K. was suddenly unable tobear the sight of the businessman any longer. "Bring him to bed, then!"he called out to Leni, who seemed to understand him. For himself, hewanted to go to the lawyer and, by dismissing him, free himself from notonly the lawyer but also from Leni and the businessman. But before hehad reached the door the businessman spoke to him gently. "Excuse me,sir," he said, and K. looked round crossly. "You've forgotten yourpromise," said the businessman, stretching his hand out to K.imploringly from where he sat. "You were going to tell me a secret.""That is true," said K., as he glanced at Leni, who was watching himcarefully, to check on her. "So listen; it's hardly a secret now anyway.I'm going to see the lawyer now to sack him." "He's sacking him!" yelledthe businessman, and he jumped up from his chair and ran around thekitchen with his arms in the air. He kept on shouting, "He's sacking hislawyer!" Leni tried to rush at K. but the businessman got in her way sothat she shoved him away with her fists. Then, still with her handsballed into fists, she ran after K. who, however, had been given a longstart. He was already inside the lawyer's room by the time Leni caughtup with him. He had almost closed the door behind himself, but Leni heldthe door open with her foot, grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back.But he put such pressure on her wrist that, with a sigh, she was forcedto release him. She did not dare go into the room straight away, and K.locked the door with the key.

"I've been waiting for you a very long time," said the lawyer from hisbed. He had been reading something by the light of a candle but now helaid it onto the bedside table and put his glasses on, looking at K.sharply through them. Instead of apologising K. said, "I'll be leavingagain soon." As he had not apologised the lawyer ignored what K. said,and replied, "I won't let you in this late again next time." "I findthat quite acceptable," said K. The lawyer looked at him quizzically."Sit down," he said. "As you wish," said K., drawing a chair up to thebedside table and sitting down. "It seemed to me that you locked thedoor," said the lawyer. "Yes," said K., "it was because of Leni." Hehad no intention of letting anyone off lightly. But the lawyer askedhim, "Was she being importunate again?" "Importunate?" asked K. "Yes,"said the lawyer, laughing as he did so, had a fit of coughing and then,once it had passed, began to laugh again. "I'm sure you must havenoticed how importunate she can be sometimes," he said, and patted K.'shand which K. had rested on the bedside table and which he now snatchedback. "You don't attach much importance to it, then," said the lawyerwhen K. was silent, "so much the better. Otherwise I might have neededto apologise to you. It is a peculiarity of Leni's. I've long sinceforgiven her for it, and I wouldn't be talking of it now, if you hadn'tlocked the door just now. Anyway, perhaps I should at least explain thispeculiarity of hers to you, but you seem rather disturbed, the wayyou're looking at me, and so that's why I'll do it, this peculiarity ofhers consists in this: Leni finds most of the accused attractive. Sheattaches herself to each of them, loves each of them, even seems to beloved by each of them; then she sometimes entertains me by telling meabout them when I allow her to. I am not so astonished by all of this asyou seem to be. If you look at them in the right way the accused reallycan be attractive, quite often. But that is a remarkable and to someextent scientific phenomenon. Being indicted does not cause any clear,precisely definable change in a person's appearance, of course. Butit's not like with other legal matters, most of them remain in theirusual way of life and, if they have a good lawyer looking after them,the trial doesn't get in their way. But there are nonetheless those whohave experience in these matters who can look at a crowd, however big,and tell you which among them is facing a charge. How can they do that,you will ask? My answer will not please you. It is simply that those whoare facing a charge are the most attractive. It cannot be their guiltthat makes them attractive as not all of them are guilty—at leastthat's what I, as a lawyer, have to say—and nor can it be the properpunishment that has made them attractive as not all of them arepunished, so it can only be that the proceedings levelled against themtake some kind of hold on them. Whatever the reason, some of theseattractive people are indeed very attractive. But all of them areattractive, even Block, pitiful worm that he is." As the lawyerfinished what he was saying, K. was fully in control of himself, he hadeven nodded conspicuously at his last few words in order to confirm tohimself the view he had already formed: that the lawyer was trying toconfuse him, as he always did, by making general and irrelevantobservations, and thus distract him from the main question of what hewas actually doing for K.'s trial. The lawyer must have noticed that K.was offering him more resistance than before, as he became silent,giving K. the chance to speak himself, and then, as K. also remainedsilent, he asked, "Did you have a particular reason for coming to seeme today?" "Yes," said K., putting his hand up to slightly shade hiseyes from the light of the candle so that he could see the lawyerbetter, "I wanted to tell you that I'm withdrawing my representationfrom you, with immediate effect." "Do I understand you rightly?" askedthe lawyer as he half raised himself in his bed and supported himselfwith one hand on the pillow. "I think you do," said K., sitting stifflyupright as if waiting in ambush. "Well we can certainly discuss thisplan of yours," said the lawyer after a pause. "It's not a plan anymore," said K. "That may be," said the lawyer, "but we still mustn'trush anything." He used the word 'we', as if he had no intention ofletting K. go free, and as if, even if he could no longer represent him,he could still at least continue as his adviser. "Nothing is beingrushed," said K., standing slowly up and going behind his chair,"everything has been well thought out and probably even for too long.The decision is final." "Then allow me to say a few words," said thelawyer, throwing the bed cover to one side and sitting on the edge ofthe bed. His naked, white-haired legs shivered in the cold. He asked K.to pass him a blanket from the couch. K. passed him the blanket andsaid, "You are running the risk of catching cold for no reason." "Thecircumstances are important enough," said the lawyer as he wrapped thebed cover around the top half of his body and then the blanket aroundhis legs. "Your uncle is my friend and in the course of time I've becomefond of you as well. I admit that quite openly. There's nothing in thatfor me to be ashamed of." It was very unwelcome for K. to hear the oldman speak in this touching way, as it forced him to explain himself morefully, which he would rather have avoided, and he was aware that it alsoconfused him even though it could never make him reverse his decision."Thank you for feeling so friendly toward me," he said, "and I alsorealise how deeply involved you've been in my case, as deeply aspossible for yourself and to bring as much advantage as possible to me.Nonetheless, I have recently come to the conviction that it is notenough. I would naturally never attempt, considering that you are somuch older and more experienced than I am, to convince you of myopinion; if I have ever unintentionally done so then I beg yourforgiveness, but, as you have just said yourself, the circumstances areimportant enough and it is my belief that my trial needs to beapproached with much more vigour than has so far been the case." "Isee," said the lawyer, "you've become impatient." "I am not impatient,"said K., with some irritation and he stopped paying so much attention tohis choice of words. "When I first came here with my uncle you probablynoticed I wasn't greatly concerned about my case, and if I wasn'treminded of it by force, as it were, I would forget about it completely.But my uncle insisted I should allow you to represent me and I did so asa favour to him. I could have expected the case to be less of a burdenthan it had been, as the point of taking on a lawyer is that he shouldtake on some of its weight. But what actually happened was the opposite.Before, the trial was never such a worry for me as it has been sinceyou've been representing me. When I was by myself I never did anythingabout my case, I was hardly aware of it, but then, once there wassomeone representing me, everything was set for something to happen, Iwas always, without cease, waiting for you to do something, getting moreand more tense, but you did nothing. I did get some information aboutthe court from you that I probably could not have got anywhere else, butthat can't be enough when the trial, supposedly in secret, is gettingcloser and closer to me." K. had pushed the chair away and stood erect,his hands in the pockets of his frock coat. "After a certain point inthe proceedings," said the lawyer quietly and calmly, "nothing new ofany importance ever happens. So many litigants, at the same stage intheir trials, have stood before me just like you are now and spoken inthe same way." "Then these other litigants," said K., "have all beenright, just as I am. That does not show that I'm not." "I wasn't tryingto show that you were mistaken," said the lawyer, "but I wanted to addthat I expected better judgement from you than from the others,especially as I've given you more insight into the workings of the courtand my own activities than I normally do. And now I'm forced to acceptthat, despite everything, you have too little trust in me. You don'tmake it easy for me." How the lawyer was humiliating himself to K.! Hewas showing no regard for the dignity of his position, which on thispoint, must have been at its most sensitive. And why did he do that? Hedid seem to be very busy as a lawyer as well a rich man, neither theloss of income nor the loss of a client could have been of muchimportance to him in themselves. He was moreover unwell and should havebeen thinking of passing work on to others. And despite all that he heldon tightly to K. Why? Was it something personal for his uncle's sake, ordid he really see K.'s case as one that was exceptional and hoped to beable to distinguish himself with it, either for K.'s sake or—and thispossibility could never be excluded—for his friends at the court. Itwas not possible to learn anything by looking at him, even though K. wasscrutinizing him quite brazenly. It could almost be supposed he wasdeliberately hiding his thoughts as he waited to see what effect hiswords would have. But he clearly deemed K.'s silence to be favourablefor himself and he continued, "You will have noticed the size of myoffice, but that I don't employ any staff to help me. That used to bequite different, there was a time when several young lawyers wereworking for me but now I work alone. This is partly to do with changesin the way I do business, in that I concentrate nowadays more and moreon matters such as your own case, and partly to do with the ever deeperunderstanding that I acquire from these legal matters. I found that Icould never let anyone else deal with this sort of work unless I wantedto harm both the client and the job I had taken on. But the decision todo all the work myself had its obvious result: I was forced to turnalmost everyone away who asked me to represent them and could onlyaccept those I was especially interested in—well there are enoughcreatures who leap at every crumb I throw down, and they're not so veryfar away. Most importantly, I became ill from over-work. But despitethat I don't regret my decision, quite possibly I should have turnedmore cases away than I did, but it did turn out to be entirely necessaryfor me to devote myself fully to the cases I did take on, and thesuccessful results showed that it was worth it. I once read adescription of the difference between representing someone in ordinarylegal matters and in legal matters of this sort, and the writerexpressed it very well. This is what he said: some lawyers lead theirclients on a thread until judgement is passed, but there are others whoimmediately lift their clients onto their shoulders and carry them allthe way to the judgement and beyond. That's just how it is. But it wasquite true when I said I never regret all this work. But if, as in yourcase, they are so fully misunderstood, well, then I come very close toregretting it." All this talking did more to make K. impatient than topersuade him. From the way the lawyer was speaking, K. thought he couldhear what he could expect if he gave in, the delays and excuses wouldbegin again, reports of how the documents were progressing, how the moodof the court officials had improved, as well as all the enormousdifficulties—in short all that he had heard so many times before wouldbe brought out again even more fully, he would try to mislead K. withhopes that were never specified and to make him suffer with threats thatwere never clear. He had to put a stop to that, so he said, "What willyou undertake on my behalf if you continue to represent me?" The lawyerquietly accepted even this insulting question, and answered, "I shouldcontinue with what I've already been doing for you." "That's just what Ithought," said K., "and now you don't need to say another word." "I willmake one more attempt," said the lawyer as if whatever had been makingK. so annoyed was affecting him too. "You see, I have the impressionthat you have not only misjudged the legal assistance I have given youbut also that that misjudgement has led you to behave in this way, youseem, although you are the accused, to have been treated too well or, toput it a better way, handled with neglect, with apparent neglect. Eventhat has its reason; it is often better to be in chains than to be free.But I would like to show you how other defendants are treated, perhapsyou will succeed in learning something from it. What I will do is I willcall Block in, unlock the door and sit down here beside the bedsidetable." "Be glad to," said K., and did as the lawyer suggested; he wasalways ready to learn something new. But to make sure of himself for anyevent he added, "but you do realise that you are no longer to be mylawyer, don't you?" "Yes," said the lawyer. "But you can still changeyour mind today if you want to." He lay back down in the bed, pulled thequilt up to his chin and turned to face the wall. Then he rang.

Leni appeared almost the moment he had done so. She looked hurriedly atK. and the lawyer to try and find out what had happened; she seemed tobe reassured by the sight of K. sitting calmly at the lawyer's bed. Shesmiled and nodded to K., K. looked blankly back at her. "Fetch Block,"said the lawyer. But instead of going to fetch him, Leni just went tothe door and called out, "Block! To the lawyer!" Then, probably becausethe lawyer had turned his face to the wall and was paying no attention,she slipped in behind K.'s chair. From then on, she bothered him byleaning forward over the back of the chair or, albeit very tenderly andcarefully, she would run her hands through his hair and over hischeeks. K. eventually tried to stop her by taking hold of one hand, andafter some resistance Leni let him keep hold of it. Block came as soonas he was called, but he remained standing in the doorway and seemed tobe wondering whether he should enter or not. He raised his eyebrows andlowered his head as if listening to find out whether the order toattend the lawyer would be repeated. K. could have encouraged him toenter, but he had decided to make a final break not only with thelawyer but with everything in his home, so he kept himself motionless.Leni was also silent. Block noticed that at least no-one was chasinghim away, and, on tiptoe, he entered the room, his face was tense, hishands were clenched behind his back. He left the door open in case heneeded to go back again. K. did not even glance at him, he lookedinstead only at the thick quilt under which the lawyer could not be seenas he had squeezed up very close to the wall. Then his voice was heard:"Block here?" he asked. Block had already crept some way into the roombut this question seemed to give him first a shove in the breast andthen another in the back, he seemed about to fall but remainedstanding, deeply bowed, and said, "At your service, sir." "What do youwant?" asked the lawyer, "you've come at a bad time." "Wasn't Isummoned?" asked Block, more to himself than the lawyer. He held hishands in front of himself as protection and would have been ready to runaway any moment. "You were summoned," said the lawyer, "but you havestill come at a bad time." Then, after a pause he added, "You alwayscome at a bad time." When the lawyer started speaking Block had stoppedlooking at the bed but stared rather into one of the corners, justlistening, as if the light from the speaker were brighter than Blockcould bear to look at. But it was also difficult for him to listen, asthe lawyer was speaking into the wall and speaking quickly and quietly."Would you like me to go away again, sir?" asked Block. "Well you'rehere now," said the lawyer. "Stay!" It was as if the lawyer had not doneas Block had wanted but instead threatened him with a stick, as nowBlock really began to shake. "I went to see," said the lawyer, "thethird judge yesterday, a friend of mine, and slowly brought theconversation round to the subject of you. Do you want to know what hesaid?" "Oh, yes please," said Block. The lawyer did not answerimmediately, so Block repeated his request and lowered his head as ifabout to kneel down. But then K. spoke to him: "What do you think you'redoing?" he shouted. Leni had wanted to stop him from calling out and sohe took hold of her other hand. It was not love that made him squeeze itand hold on to it so tightly, she sighed frequently and tried todisengage her hands from him. But Block was punished for K.'s outburst,as the lawyer asked him, "Who is your lawyer?" "You are, sir," saidBlock. "And who besides me?" the lawyer asked. "No-one besides you,sir," said Block. "And let there be no-one besides me," said the lawyer.Block fully understood what that meant, he glowered at K., shaking hishead violently. If these actions had been translated into words theywould have been coarse insults. K. had been friendly and willing todiscuss his own case with someone like this! "I won't disturb you anymore," said K., leaning back in his chair. "You can kneel down or creepon all fours, whatever you like. I won't bother with you any more." ButBlock still had some sense of pride, at least where K. was concerned,and he went towards him waving his fists, shouting as loudly as he daredwhile the lawyer was there. "You shouldn't speak to me like that, that'snot allowed. Why are you insulting me? Especially here in front of thelawyer, where both of us, you and me, we're only tolerated because ofhis charity. You're not a better person than me, you've been accused ofsomething too, you're facing a charge too. If, in spite of that, you'restill a gentleman then I'm just as much a gentleman as you are, if noteven more so. And I want to be spoken to as a gentleman, especially byyou. If you think being allowed to sit there and quietly listen while Icreep on all fours as you put it makes you something better than me,then there's an old legal saying you ought to bear in mind: If you'reunder suspicion it's better to be moving than still, as if you're stillyou can be in the pan of the scales without knowing it and be weighedalong with your sins." K. said nothing. He merely looked in amazement atthis distracted being, his eyes completely still. He had gone throughsuch changes in just the last few hours! Was it the trial that wasthrowing him from side to side in this way and stopped him knowing whowas friend and who was foe? Could he not see the lawyer was deliberatelyhumiliating him and had no other purpose today than to show off hispower to K., and perhaps even thereby subjugate K.? But if Block wasincapable of seeing that, or if he so feared the lawyer that no suchinsight would even be of any use to him, how was it that he was eitherso sly or so bold as to lie to the lawyer and conceal from him the factthat he had other lawyers working on his behalf? And how did he dare toattack K., who could betray his secret any time he liked? But he daredeven more than this, he went to the lawyer's bed and began there to makecomplaints about K. "Dr. Huld, sir," he said, "did you hear the way thisman spoke to me? You can count the length of his trial in hours, and hewants to tell me what to do when I've been involved in a legal case forfive years. He even insults me. He doesn't know anything, but he insultsme, when I, as far as my weak ability allows, when I've made a closestudy of how to behave with the court, what we ought to do and what thecourt practices are." "Don't let anyone bother you," said the lawyer,"and do what seems to you to be right." "I will," said Block, as ifspeaking to himself to give himself courage, and with a quick glance tothe side he knelt down close beside the bed. "I'm kneeling now, Dr.Huld, sir," he said. But the lawyer remained silent. With one hand,Block carefully stroked the bed cover. In the silence while he did so,Leni, as she freed herself from K.'s hands, said, "You're hurting me.Let go of me. I'm going over to Block." She went over to him and sat onthe edge of the bed. Block was very pleased at this and with lively,but silent, gestures he immediately urged her to intercede for him withthe lawyer. It was clear that he desperately needed to be told somethingby the lawyer, although perhaps only so that he could make use of theinformation with his other lawyers. Leni probably knew very well howthe lawyer could be brought round, pointed to his hand and pursed herlips as if making a kiss. Block immediately performed the hand-kiss and,at further urging from Leni, repeated it twice more. But the lawyercontinued to be silent. Then Leni leant over the lawyer, as shestretched out, the attractive shape of her body could be seen, and,bent over close to his face, she stroked his long white hair. That nowforced him to give an answer. "I'm rather wary of telling him," saidthe lawyer, and his head could be seen shaking slightly, perhaps so thathe would feel the pressure of Leni's hand better. Block listenedclosely with his head lowered, as if by listening he were breaking anorder. "What makes you so wary about it?" asked Leni. K. had the feelinghe was listening to a contrived dialogue that had been repeated manytimes, that would be repeated many times more, and that for Block aloneit would never lose its freshness. "What has his behaviour been liketoday?" asked the lawyer instead of an answer. Before Leni saidanything she looked down at Block and watched him a short while as heraised his hands towards her and rubbed them together imploringly.Finally she gave a serious nod, turned back to the lawyer and said,"He's been quiet and industrious." This was an elderly businessman, aman whose beard was long, and he was begging a young girl to speak onhis behalf. Even if there was some plan behind what he did, there wasnothing that could reinstate him in the eyes of his fellow man. K. couldnot understand how the lawyer could have thought this performance wouldwin him over. Even if he had done nothing earlier to make him want toleave then this scene would have done so. It was almost humiliating evenfor the onlooker. So these were the lawyer's methods, which K.fortunately had not been exposed to for long, to let the client forgetabout the whole world and leave him with nothing but the hope ofreaching the end of his trial by this deluded means. He was no longer aclient, he was the lawyer's dog. If the lawyer had ordered him to crawlunder the bed as if it were a kennel and to bark out from under it, thenhe would have done so with enthusiasm. K. listened to all of this,testing it and thinking it over as if he had been given the task ofclosely observing everything spoken here, inform a higher office aboutit and write a report. "And what has he been doing all day?" asked thelawyer. "I kept him locked in the maid's room all day," said Leni, "sothat he wouldn't stop me doing my work. That's where he usually stays.From time to time I looked in through the spyhole to see what he wasdoing, and each time he was kneeling on the bed and reading the papersyou gave him, propped up on the window sill. That made a good impressionon me; as the window only opens onto an air shaft and gives hardly anylight. It showed how obedient he is that he was even reading in thoseconditions." "I'm pleased to hear it," said the lawyer. "But did heunderstand what he was reading?" While this conversation was going on,Block continually moved his lips and was clearly formulating the answershe hoped Leni would give. "Well I can't give you any certain answer tothat of course," said Leni, "but I could see that he was readingthoroughly. He spent all day reading the same page, running his fingeralong the lines. Whenever I looked in on him he sighed as if thisreading was a lot of work for him. I expect the papers you gave him werevery hard to understand." "Yes," said the lawyer, "they certainly arethat. And I really don't think he understood anything of them. But theyshould at least give him some inkling of just how hard a struggle it isand how much work it is for me to defend him. And who am I doing allthis hard work for? I'm doing it—it's laughable even to say it—I'mdoing it for Block. He ought to realise what that means, too. Did hestudy without a pause?" "Almost without a pause," answered Leni. "Justthe once he asked me for a drink of water, so I gave him a glassfulthrough the window. Then at eight o'clock I let him out and gave himsomething to eat." Block glanced sideways at K., as if he were beingpraised and had to impress K. as well. He now seemed more optimistic, hemoved more freely and rocked back and forth on his knees. This made hisastonishment all the more obvious when he heard the following words fromthe lawyer: "You speak well of him," said the lawyer, "but that's justwhat makes it difficult for me. You see, the judge did not speak well ofhim at all, neither about Block nor about his case." "Didn't speak wellof him?" asked Leni. "How is that possible?" Block looked at her withsuch tension he seemed to think that although the judge's words had beenspoken so long before she would be able to change them in his favour."Not at all," said the lawyer. "In fact he became quite cross when Istarted to talk about Block to him. 'Don't talk to me about Block,' hesaid. 'He is my client,' said I. 'You're letting him abuse you,' hesaid. 'I don't think his case is lost yet,' said I. 'You're letting himabuse you,' he repeated. 'I don't think so,' said I. 'Block works hardin his case and always knows where it stands. He practically lives withme so that he always knows what's happening. You don't always find suchenthusiasm as that. He's not very pleasant personally, I grant you, hismanners are terrible and he's dirty, but as far as the trial's concernedhe's quite immaculate.' I said immaculate, but I was deliberatelyexaggerating. Then he said, 'Block is sly, that's all. He's accumulatedplenty of experience and knows how to delay proceedings. But there'smore that he doesn't know than he does. What do you think he'd say if helearned his trial still hasn't begun, if you told him they haven't evenrung the bell to announce the start of proceedings?' Alright Block,alright," said the lawyer, as at these words Block had begun to raisehimself on his trembling knees and clearly wanted to plead for someexplanation. It was the first time the lawyer had spoken any clear wordsdirectly to Block. He looked down with his tired eyes, half blankly andhalf at Block, who slowly sank back down on his knees under this gaze."What the judge said has no meaning for you," said the lawyer. "Youneedn't be frightened at every word. If you do it again I won't tell youanything else at all. It's impossible to start a sentence without youlooking at me as if you were receiving your final judgement. You shouldbe ashamed of yourself here in front of my client! And you're destroyingthe trust he has for me. Just what is it you want? You're still alive,you're still under my protection. There's no point in worrying!Somewhere you've read that the final judgement can often come withoutwarning, from anyone at any time. And, in the right circumstances,that's basically true, but it's also true that I dislike your anxietyand fear and see that you don't have the trust in me you should have.Now what have I just said? I repeated something said by one of thejudges. You know that there are so many various opinions about theprocedure that they form into a great big pile and nobody can make anysense of them. This judge, for instance, sees proceedings as starting ata different point from where I do. A difference of opinion, nothingmore. At a certain stage in the proceedings tradition has it that a signis given by ringing a bell. This judge sees that as the point at whichproceedings begin. I can't set out all the opinions opposed to thatview here, and you wouldn't understand it anyway, suffice it to saythat there are many reasons to disagree with him." Embarrassed, Blockran his fingers through the pile of the carpet, his anxiety about whatthe judge had said had let him forget his inferior status towards thelawyer for a while, he thought only about himself and turned the judge'swords round to examine them from all sides. "Block," said Leni, as ifreprimanding him, and, taking hold of the collar of his coat, pulled himup slightly higher. "Leave the carpet alone and listen to what thelawyer is saying."

This chapter was left unfinished.

Chapter Nine

In the Cathedral

A very important Italian business contact of the bank had come to visitthe city for the first time and K. was given the task of showing himsome of its cultural sights. At any other time he would have seen thisjob as an honour but now, when he was finding it hard even to maintainhis current position in the bank, he accepted it only with reluctance.Every hour that he could not be in the office was a cause of concernfor him, he was no longer able to make use of his time in the officeanything like as well as he had previously, he spent many hours merelypretending to do important work, but that only increased his anxietyabout not being in the office. Then he sometimes thought he saw thedeputy director, who was always watching, come into K.'s office, sit athis desk, look through his papers, receive clients who had almostbecome old friends of K., and lure them away from him, perhaps he evendiscovered mistakes, mistakes that seemed to threaten K. from athousand directions when he was at work now, and which he could nolonger avoid. So now, if he was ever asked to leave the office onbusiness or even needed to make a short business trip, however much anhonour it seemed—and tasks of this sort happened to have increasedsubstantially recently—there was always the suspicion that they wantedto get him out of his office for a while and check his work, or atleast the idea that they thought he was dispensable. It would not havebeen difficult for him to turn down most of these jobs, but he did notdare to do so because, if his fears had the slightest foundation,turning the jobs down would have been an acknowledgement of them. Forthis reason, he never demurred from accepting them, and even when hewas asked to go on a tiring business trip lasting two days he saidnothing about having to go out in the rainy autumn weather when he had asevere chill, just in order to avoid the risk of not being asked to go.When, with a raging headache, he arrived back from this trip he learnedthat he had been chosen to accompany the Italian business contact thefollowing day. The temptation for once to turn the job down was verygreat, especially as it had no direct connection with business, butthere was no denying that social obligations towards this businesscontact were in themselves important enough, only not for K., who knewquite well that he needed some successes at work if he was to maintainhis position there and that, if he failed in that, it would not helphim even if this Italian somehow found him quite charming; he did notwant to be removed from his workplace for even one day, as the fear ofnot being allowed back in was too great, he knew full well that the fearwas exaggerated but it still made him anxious. However, in this case itwas almost impossible to think of an acceptable excuse, his knowledgeof Italian was not great but still good enough; the deciding factor wasthat K. had earlier known a little about art history and this hadbecome widely known around the bank in extremely exaggerated form, andthat K. had been a member of the Society for the Preservation of CityMonuments, albeit only for business reasons. It was said that thisItalian was an art lover, so the choice of K. to accompany him was amatter of course.

It was a very rainy and stormy morning when K., in a foul temper at thethought of the day ahead of him, arrived early at seven o'clock in theoffice so that he could at least do some work before his visitor wouldprevent him. He had spent half the night studying a book of Italiangrammar so that he would be somewhat prepared and was very tired; hisdesk was less attractive to him than the window where he had spent fartoo much time sitting of late, but he resisted the temptation and satdown to his work. Unfortunately, just then the servitor came in andreported that the director had sent him to see whether the chief clerkwas already in his office; if he was, then would he please be so kindas to come to his reception room as the gentleman from Italy wasalready there. "I'll come straight away," said K. He put a smalldictionary in his pocket, took a guide to the city's tourist sitesunder his arm that he had compiled for strangers, and went through thedeputy director's office into that of the director. He was glad he hadcome into the office so early and was able to be of serviceimmediately, nobody could seriously have expected that of him. Thedeputy director's office was, of course, still as empty as the middleof the night, the servitor had probably been asked to summon him toobut without success. As K. entered the reception room two men stood upfrom the deep armchairs where they had been sitting. The director gavehim a friendly smile, he was clearly very glad that K. was there, heimmediately introduced him to the Italian who shook K.'s handvigorously and joked that somebody was an early riser. K. did not quiteunderstand whom he had in mind, it was moreover an odd expression to useand it took K. a little while to guess its meaning. He replied with afew bland phrases which the Italian received once more with a laugh,passing his hand nervously and repeatedly over his blue-grey, bushymoustache. This moustache was obviously perfumed, it was almost temptingto come close to it and sniff. When they had all sat down and begun alight preliminary conversation, K. was disconcerted to notice that heunderstood no more than fragments of what the Italian said. When hespoke very calmly he understood almost everything, but that was veryinfrequent, mostly the words gushed from his mouth and he seemed to beenjoying himself so much his head shook. When he was talking in thisway his speech was usually wrapped up in some kind of dialect whichseemed to K. to have nothing to do with Italian but which the directornot only understood but also spoke, although K. ought to have foreseenthis as the Italian came from the south of his country where thedirector had also spent several years. Whatever the cause, K. realisedthat the possibility of communicating with the Italian had been largelytaken from him, even his French was difficult to understand, and hismoustache concealed the movements of his lips which might have offeredsome help in understanding what he said. K. began to anticipate manydifficulties, he gave up trying to understand what the Italiansaid—with the director there, who could understand him so easily, itwould have been pointless effort—and for the time being did no morethan scowl at the Italian as he relaxed sitting deep but comfortable inthe armchair, as he frequently pulled at his short, sharply tailoredjacket and at one time lifted his arms in the air and moved his handsfreely to try and depict something that K. could not grasp, even thoughhe was leaning forward and did not let the hands out of his sight. K.had nothing to occupy himself but mechanically watch the exchangebetween the two men and his tiredness finally made itself felt, to hisalarm, although fortunately in good time, he once caught himself nearlygetting up, turning round and leaving. Eventually the Italian looked atthe clock and jumped up. After taking his leave from the director heturned to K., pressing himself so close to him that K. had to push hischair back just so that he could move. The director had, no doubt, seenthe anxiety in K.'s eyes as he tried to cope with this dialect ofItalian, he joined in with this conversation in a way that was soadroit and unobtrusive that he seemed to be adding no more than minorcomments, whereas in fact he was swiftly and patiently breaking intowhat the Italian said so that K. could understand. K. learned in thisway that the Italian first had a few business matters to settle, thathe unfortunately had only a little time at his disposal, that hecertainly did not intend to rush round to see every monument in thecity, that he would much rather—at least as long as K. would agree, itwas entirely his decision—just see the cathedral and to do sothoroughly. He was extremely pleased to be accompanied by someone whowas so learned and so pleasant—by this he meant K., who was occupiednot with listening to the Italian but the director—and asked if hewould be so kind, if the time was suitable, to meet him in the cathedralin two hours' time at about ten o'clock. He hoped he would certainly beable to be there at that time. K. made an appropriate reply, the Italianshook first the director's hand and then K.'s, then the director's againand went to the door, half turned to the two men who followed him andcontinuing to talk without a break. K. remained together with thedirector for a short while, although the director looked especiallyunhappy today. He thought he needed to apologise to K. for something andtold him—they were standing intimately close together—he had thoughtat first he would accompany the Italian himself, but then—he gave nomore precise reason than this—then he decided it would be better tosend K. with him. He should not be surprised if he could not understandthe Italian at first, he would be able to very soon, and even if hereally could not understand very much he said it was not so bad, as itwas really not so important for the Italian to be understood. Andanyway, K.'s knowledge of Italian was surprisingly good, the directorwas sure he would get by very well. And with that, it was time for K. togo. He spent the time still remaining to him with a dictionary, copyingout obscure words he would need to guide the Italian round thecathedral. It was an extremely irksome task, servitors brought him themail, bank staff came with various queries and, when they saw that K.was busy, stood by the door and did not go away until he had listened tothem, the deputy director did not miss the opportunity to disturb K. andcame in frequently, took the dictionary from his hand and flickedthrough its pages, clearly for no purpose, when the door to theante-room opened even clients would appear from the half-darkness andbow timidly to him—they wanted to attract his attention but were notsure whether he had seen them—all this activity was circling around K.with him at its centre while he compiled the list of words he wouldneed, then looked them up in the dictionary, then wrote them out, thenpractised their pronunciation and finally tried to learn them by heart.The good intentions he had had earlier, though, seemed to have left himcompletely, it was the Italian who had caused him all this effort andsometimes he became so angry with him that he buried the dictionaryunder some papers firmly intending to do no more preparation, but thenhe realised he could not walk up and down in the cathedral with theItalian without saying a word, so, in an even greater rage, he pulledthe dictionary back out again.

At exactly half past nine, just when he was about to leave, there was atelephone call for him, Leni wished him good morning and asked how hewas, K. thanked her hurriedly and told her it was impossible for him totalk now as he had to go to the cathedral. "To the cathedral?" askedLeni. "Yes, to the cathedral." "What do you have to go to the cathedralfor?" said Leni. K. tried to explain it to her briefly, but he hadhardly begun when Leni suddenly said, "They're harassing you." Onething that K. could not bear was pity that he had not wanted orexpected, he took his leave of her with two words, but as he put thereceiver back in its place he said, half to himself and half to thegirl on the other end of the line who could no longer hear him, "Yes,they're harassing me."

By now the time was late and there was almost a danger he would not beon time. He took a taxi to the cathedral, at the last moment he hadremembered the album that he had had no opportunity to give to theItalian earlier and so took it with him now. He held it on his kneesand drummed impatiently on it during the whole journey. The rain hadeased off slightly but it was still damp, chilly and dark, it would bedifficult to see anything in the cathedral but standing about on coldflagstones might well make K.'s chill much worse. The square in frontof the cathedral was quite empty, K. remembered how even as a smallchild he had noticed that nearly all the houses in this narrow squarehad the curtains at their windows closed most of the time, althoughtoday, with the weather like this, it was more understandable. Thecathedral also seemed quite empty, of course no-one would think ofgoing there on a day like this. K. hurried along both the side navesbut saw no-one but an old woman who, wrapped up in a warm shawl, waskneeling at a picture of the Virgin Mary and staring up at it. Then, inthe distance, he saw a church official who limped away through adoorway in the wall. K. had arrived on time, it had struck ten just ashe was entering the building, but the Italian still was not there. K.went back to the main entrance, stood there indecisively for a while,and then walked round the cathedral in the rain in case the Italian waswaiting at another entrance. He was nowhere to be found. Could thedirector have misunderstood what time they had agreed on? How couldanyone understand someone like that properly anyway? Whatever hadhappened, K. would have to wait for him for at least half an hour. Ashe was tired he wanted to sit down, he went back inside the cathedral,he found something like a small carpet on one of the steps, he moved itwith his foot to a nearby pew, wrapped himself up tighter in his coat,put the collar up and sat down. To pass the time he opened the albumand flicked through the pages a little but soon had to give up as itbecame so dark that when he looked up he could hardly make out anythingin the side nave next to him.

In the distance there was a large triangle of candles flickering on themain altar, K. was not certain whether he had seen them earlier.Perhaps they had only just been lit. Church staff creep silently aspart of their job, you don't notice them. When K. happened to turnround he also saw a tall, stout candle attached to a column not farbehind him. It was all very pretty, but totally inadequate to illuminatethe pictures which were usually left in the darkness of the sidealtars, and seemed to make the darkness all the deeper. It wasdiscourteous of the Italian not to come but it was also sensible of him,there would have been nothing to see, they would have had to contentthemselves with seeking out a few pictures with K.'s electric pockettorch and looking at them one small part at a time. K. went over to anearby side chapel to see what they could have hoped for, he went up afew steps to a low marble railing and leant over it to look at the altarpicture by the light of his torch. The eternal light hung disturbinglyin front of it. The first thing that K. partly saw and partly guessed atwas a large knight in armour who was shown at the far edge of thepainting. He was leaning on his sword that he had stuck into the nakedground in front of him where only a few blades of grass grew here andthere. He seemed to be paying close attention to something that wasbeing played out in front of him. It was astonishing to see how he stoodthere without going any closer. Perhaps it was his job to stand guard.It was a long time since K. had looked at any pictures and he studiedthe knight for a long time even though he had continually to blink ashe found it difficult to bear the green light of his torch. Then whenhe moved the light to the other parts of the picture he found aninterment of Christ shown in the usual way, it was also a comparativelynew painting. He put his torch away and went back to his place.

There seemed to be no point in waiting for the Italian any longer, butoutside it was certainly raining heavily, and as it was not so cold inthe cathedral as K. had expected he decided to stay there for the timebeing. Close by him was the great pulpit, there were two plain goldencrosses attached to its little round roof which were lying almost flatand whose tips crossed over each other. The outside of the pulpit'sbalustrade was covered in green foliage which continued down to thecolumn supporting it, little angels could be seen among the leaves,some of them lively and some of them still. K. walked up to the pulpitand examined it from all sides, its stonework had been sculpted withgreat care, it seemed as if the foliage had trapped a deep darknessbetween and behind its leaves and held it there prisoner, K. lay hishand in one of these gaps and cautiously felt the stone, until then hehad been totally unaware of this pulpit's existence. Then K. happenedto notice one of the church staff standing behind the next row of pews,he wore a loose, creased, black cassock, he held a snuff box in hisleft hand and he was watching K. Now what does he want? thought K. Do Iseem suspicious to him? Does he want a tip? But when the man in thecassock saw that K. had noticed him he raised his right hand, a pinchof snuff still held between two fingers, and pointed in some vaguedirection. It was almost impossible to understand what this behaviourmeant, K. waited a while longer but the man in the cassock did not stopgesturing with his hand and even augmented it by nodding his head. "Nowwhat does he want?" asked K. quietly, he did not dare call out loudhere; but then he drew out his purse and pushed his way through thenearest pews to reach the man. He, however, immediately gestured toturn down this offer, shrugged his shoulders and limped away. As a childK. had imitated riding on a horse with the same sort of movement asthis limp. "This old man is like a child," thought K., "he doesn't havethe sense for anything more than serving in a church. Look at the wayhe stops when I stop, and how he waits to see whether I'll continue."With a smile, K. followed the old man all the way up the side nave andalmost as far as the main altar, all this time the old man continued topoint at something but K. deliberately avoided looking round, he wasonly pointing in order to make it harder for K. to follow him.Eventually, K. did stop following, he did not want to worry the old mantoo much, and he also did not want to frighten him away completely incase the Italian turned up after all.

When he entered the central nave to go back to where he had left thealbum, he noticed a small secondary pulpit on a column almost next tothe stalls by the altar where the choir sat. It was very simple, madeof plain white stone, and so small that from a distance it looked likean empty niche where the statue of a saint ought to have been. Itcertainly would have been impossible for the priest to take a full stepback from the balustrade, and, although there was no decoration on it,the top of the pulpit curved in exceptionally low so that a man ofaverage height would not be able stand upright and would have to remainbent forward over the balustrade. In all, it looked as if it had beenintended to make the priest suffer, it was impossible to understand whythis pulpit would be needed as there were also the other ones availablewhich were large and so artistically decorated.

And K. would certainly not have noticed this little pulpit if there hadnot been a lamp fastened above it, which usually meant there was asermon about to be given. So was a sermon to be given now? In thisempty church? K. looked down at the steps which, pressed close againstthe column, led up to the pulpit. They were so narrow they seemed to bethere as decoration on the column rather than for anyone to use. Butunder the pulpit—K. grinned in astonishment—there really was a prieststanding with his hand on the handrail ready to climb the steps andlooking at K. Then he nodded very slightly, so that K. crossed himselfand genuflected as he should have done earlier. With a little swing,the priest went up into the pulpit with short fast steps. Was therereally a sermon about to begin? Maybe the man in the cassock had notbeen really so demented, and had meant to lead K.'s way to thepreacher, which in this empty church would have been very necessary.And there was also, somewhere in front of a picture of the Virgin Mary,an old woman who should have come to hear the sermon. And if there wasto be a sermon why had it not been introduced on the organ? But theorgan remained quiet and merely looked out weakly from the darkness ofits great height.

K. now considered whether he should leave as quickly as possible, if hedid not do it now there would be no chance of doing so during thesermon and he would have to stay there for as long as it lasted, he hadlost so much time when he should have been in his office, there hadlong been no need for him to wait for the Italian any longer, he lookedat his watch, it was eleven. But could there really be a sermon given?Could K. constitute the entire congregation? How could he when he wasjust a stranger who wanted to look at the church? That, basically, wasall he was. The idea of a sermon, now, at eleven o'clock, on a workday,in hideous weather, was nonsense. The priest—there was no doubt thathe was a priest, a young man with a smooth, dark face—was clearlygoing up there just to put the lamp out after somebody had lit it bymistake.

But there had been no mistake, the priest seemed rather to check thatthe lamp was lit and turned it a little higher, then he slowly turnedto face the front and leant down on the balustrade gripping its angularrail with both hands. He stood there like that for a while and, withoutturning his head, looked around. K. had moved back a long way and leanthis elbows on the front pew. Somewhere in the church—he could not havesaid exactly where—he could make out the man in the cassock hunchedunder his bent back and at peace, as if his work were completed. In thecathedral it was now very quiet! But K. would have to disturb thatsilence, he had no intention of staying there; if it was the priest'sduty to preach at a certain time regardless of the circumstances thenhe could, and he could do it without K.'s taking part, and K.'spresence would do nothing to augment the effect of it. So K. beganslowly to move, felt his way on tiptoe along the pew, arrived at thebroad aisle and went along it without being disturbed, except for thesound of his steps, however light, which rang out on the stone floorand resounded from the vaulting, quiet but continuous at a repeating,regular pace. K. felt slightly abandoned as, probably observed by thepriest, he walked by himself between the empty pews, and the size ofthe cathedral seemed to be just at the limit of what a man could bear.When he arrived back at where he had been sitting he did not hesitatebut simply reached out for the album he had left there and took it withhim. He had nearly left the area covered by pews and was close to theempty space between himself and the exit when, for the first time, heheard the voice of the priest. A powerful and experienced voice. Itpierced through the reaches of the cathedral ready waiting for it! Butthe priest was not calling out to the congregation, his cry was quiteunambiguous and there was no escape from it, he called "Josef K.!"

K. stood still and looked down at the floor. In theory he was stillfree, he could have carried on walking, through one of three darklittle wooden doors not far in front of him and away from there. Itwould simply mean he had not understood, or that he had understood butchose not to pay attention to it. But if he once turned round he wouldbe trapped, then he would have acknowledged that he had understoodperfectly well, that he really was the Josef K. the priest had calledto and that he was willing to follow. If the priest had called outagain K. would certainly have carried on out the door, but everythingwas silent as K. also waited, he turned his head slightly as he wantedto see what the priest was doing now. He was merely standing in thepulpit as before, but it was obvious that he had seen K. turn his head.If K. did not now turn round completely it would have been like a childplaying hide and seek. He did so, and the priest beckoned him with hisfinger. As everything could now be done openly he ran—because ofcuriosity and the wish to get it over with—with long flying leapstowards the pulpit. At the front pews he stopped, but to the priest hestill seemed too far away, he reached out his hand and pointed sharplydown with his finger to a place immediately in front of the pulpit. AndK. did as he was told, standing in that place he had to bend his head along way back just to see the priest. "You are Josef K.," said thepriest, and raised his hand from the balustrade to make a gesture whosemeaning was unclear. "Yes," said K., he considered how freely he hadalways given his name in the past, for some time now it had been aburden to him, now there were people who knew his name whom he hadnever seen before, it had been so nice first to introduce yourself andonly then for people to know who you were. "You have been accused,"said the priest, especially gently. "Yes," said K., "so I have beeninformed." "Then you are the one I am looking for," said the priest. "Iam the prison chaplain." "I see," said K. "I had you summoned here,"said the priest, "because I wanted to speak to you." "I knew nothing ofthat," said K. "I came here to show the cathedral to a gentleman fromItaly." "That is beside the point," said the priest. "What are youholding in your hand? Is it a prayer book?" "No," answered K., "it's analbum of the city's tourist sights." "Put it down," said the priest. K.threw it away with such force that it flapped open and rolled acrossthe floor, tearing its pages. "Do you know your case is going badly?"asked the priest. "That's how it seems to me too," said K. "I'veexpended a lot of effort on it, but so far with no result. Although I dostill have some documents to submit." "How do you imagine it will end?"asked the priest. "At first I thought it was bound to end well," saidK., "but now I have my doubts about it. I don't know how it will end. Doyou know?" "I don't," said the priest, "but I fear it will end badly.You are considered guilty. Your case will probably not even go beyond aminor court. Provisionally at least, your guilt is seen as proven.""But I'm not guilty," said K., "there's been a mistake. How is it evenpossible for someone to be guilty? We're all human beings here, onelike the other." "That is true," said the priest, "but that is how theguilty speak." "Do you presume I'm guilty too?" asked K. "I make nopresumptions about you," said the priest. "I thank you for that," saidK. "but everyone else involved in these proceedings has somethingagainst me and presumes I'm guilty. They even influence those whoaren't involved. My position gets harder all the time." "You don'tunderstand the facts," said the priest, "the verdict does not comesuddenly, proceedings continue until a verdict is reached gradually.""I see," said K., lowering his head. "What do you intend to do aboutyour case next?" asked the priest. "I still need to find help," saidK., raising his head to see what the priest thought of this. "There arestill certain possibilities I haven't yet made use of." "You look fortoo much help from people you don't know," said the priestdisapprovingly, "and especially from women. Can you really not seethat's not the help you need?" "Sometimes, in fact quite often, I couldbelieve you're right," said K., "but not always. Women have a lot ofpower. If I could persuade some of the women I know to work togetherwith me then I would be certain to succeed. Especially in a court likethis that seems to consist of nothing but woman-chasers. Show theexamining judge a woman in the distance and he'll run right over thedesk, and the accused, just to get to her as soon as he can." Thepriest lowered his head down to the balustrade, only now did the roofover the pulpit seem to press him down. What sort of dreadful weathercould it be outside? It was no longer just a dull day, it was deepestnight. None of the stained glass in the main window shed even a flickerof light on the darkness of the walls. And this was the moment when theman in the cassock chose to put out the candles on the main altar, oneby one. "Are you cross with me?" asked K. "Maybe you don't know whatsort of court it is you serve." He received no answer. "Well, it's justmy own experience," said K. Above him there was still silence. "I didn'tmean to insult you," said K. At that, the priest screamed down at K.:"Can you not see two steps in front of you?" He shouted in anger, but itwas also the scream of one who sees another fall and, shocked andwithout thinking, screams against his own will.

The two men, then, remained silent for a long time. In the darknessbeneath him, the priest could not possibly have seen K. distinctly,although K. was able to see him clearly by the light of the littlelamp. Why did the priest not come down? He had not given a sermon, hehad only told K. a few things which, if he followed them closely, wouldprobably cause him more harm than good. But the priest certainly seemedto mean well, it might even be possible, if he would come down andco-operate with him, it might even be possible for him to obtain someacceptable piece of advice that could make all the difference, itmight, for instance, be able to show him not so much to influence theproceedings but how to break free of them, how to evade them, how tolive away from them. K. had to admit that this was something he had hadon his mind quite a lot of late. If the priest knew of such apossibility he might, if K. asked him, let him know about it, eventhough he was part of the court himself and even though, when K. hadcriticised the court, he had held down his gentle nature and actuallyshouted at K.

"Would you not like to come down here?" asked K. "If you're not goingto give a sermon come down here with me." "Now I can come down," saidthe priest, perhaps he regretted having shouted at K. As he took downthe lamp from its hook he said, "to start off with I had to speak toyou from a distance. Otherwise I'm too easily influenced and forget myduty."

K. waited for him at the foot of the steps. While he was still on oneof the higher steps as he came down them the priest reached out hishand for K. to shake. "Can you spare me a little of your time?" askedK. "As much time as you need," said the priest, and passed him thelittle lamp for him to carry. Even at close distance the priest did notlose a certain solemnity that seemed to be part of his character. "Youare very friendly towards me," said K., as they walked up and downbeside each other in the darkness of one of the side naves. "That makesyou an exception among all those who belong to the court. I can trustyou more than any of the others I've seen. I can speak openly with you.""Don't fool yourself," said the priest. "How would I be fooling myself?"asked K. "You fool yourself in the court," said the priest, "it talksabout this self-deceit in the opening paragraphs to the law. In front ofthe law there is a doorkeeper. A man from the countryside comes up tothe door and asks for entry. But the doorkeeper says he can't let him into the law right now. The man thinks about this, and then he asks ifhe'll be able to go in later on. 'That's possible,' says the doorkeeper,'but not now.' The gateway to the law is open as it always is, and thedoorkeeper has stepped to one side, so the man bends over to try andsee in. When the doorkeeper notices this he laughs and says, 'If you'retempted give it a try, try and go in even though I say you can't.Careful though: I'm powerful. And I'm only the lowliest of all thedoormen. But there's a doorkeeper for each of the rooms and each ofthem is more powerful than the last. It's more than I can stand just tolook at the third one.' The man from the country had not expecteddifficulties like this, the law was supposed to be accessible foranyone at any time, he thinks, but now he looks more closely at thedoorkeeper in his fur coat, sees his big hooked nose, his long thintartar-beard, and he decides it's better to wait until he haspermission to enter. The doorkeeper gives him a stool and lets him sitdown to one side of the gate. He sits there for days and years. He triesto be allowed in time and again and tires the doorkeeper with hisrequests. The doorkeeper often questions him, asking about where he'sfrom and many other things, but these are disinterested questions suchas great men ask, and he always ends up by telling him he still can'tlet him in. The man had come well equipped for his journey, and useseverything, however valuable, to bribe the doorkeeper. He acceptseverything, but as he does so he says, 'I'll only accept this so thatyou don't think there's anything you've failed to do.' Over many years,the man watches the doorkeeper almost without a break. He forgets aboutthe other doormen, and begins to think this one is the only thingstopping him from gaining access to the law. Over the first few years hecurses his unhappy condition out loud, but later, as he becomes old, hejust grumbles to himself. He becomes senile, and as he has come to knoweven the fleas in the doorkeeper's fur collar over the years that he hasbeen studying him he even asks them to help him and change thedoorkeeper's mind. Finally his eyes grow dim, and he no longer knowswhether it's really getting darker or just his eyes that are deceivinghim. But he seems now to see an inextinguishable light begin to shinefrom the darkness behind the door. He doesn't have long to live now.Just before he dies, he brings together all his experience from all thistime into one question which he has still never put to the doorkeeper.He beckons to him, as he's no longer able to raise his stiff body. Thedoorkeeper has to bend over deeply as the difference in their sizes haschanged very much to the disadvantage of the man. 'What is it you wantto know now?' asks the doorkeeper, 'You're insatiable.' 'Everyone wantsaccess to the law,' says the man, 'how come, over all these years,no-one but me has asked to be let in?' The doorkeeper can see the man'scome to his end, his hearing has faded, and so, so that he can be heard,he shouts to him: 'Nobody else could have got in this way, as thisentrance was meant only for you. Now I'll go and close it.'"

"So the doorkeeper cheated the man," said K. immediately, who had beencaptivated by the story. "Don't be too quick," said the priest, "don'ttake somebody else's opinion without checking it. I told you the storyexactly as it was written. There's nothing in there about cheating.""But it's quite clear," said K., "and your first interpretation of itwas quite correct. The doorkeeper gave him the information that wouldrelease him only when it could be of no more use." "He didn't ask himbefore that," said the priest, "and don't forget he was only adoorkeeper, and as doorkeeper he did his duty." "What makes you thinkhe did his duty?" asked K., "He didn't. It might have been his duty tokeep everyone else away, but this man is who the door was intended forand he ought to have let him in." "You're not paying enough attentionto what was written and you're changing the story," said the priest."According to the story, there are two important things that thedoorkeeper explains about access to the law, one at the beginning, oneat the end. At one place he says he can't allow him in now, and at theother he says this entrance was intended for him alone. If one of thestatements contradicted the other you would be right and the doorkeeperwould have cheated the man from the country. But there is nocontradiction. On the contrary, the first statement even hints at thesecond. You could almost say the doorkeeper went beyond his duty inthat he offered the man some prospect of being admitted in the future.Throughout the story, his duty seems to have been merely to turn theman away, and there are many commentators who are surprised that thedoorkeeper offered this hint at all, as he seems to love exactitude andkeeps strict guard over his position. He stays at his post for manyyears and doesn't close the gate until the very end, he's veryconscious of the importance of his service, as he says, 'I'm powerful,'he has respect for his superiors, as he says, 'I'm only the lowliest ofthe doormen,' he's not talkative, as through all these years the onlyquestions he asks are 'disinterested,' he's not corruptible, as whenhe's offered a gift he says, 'I'll only accept this so that you don'tthink there's anything you've failed to do,' as far as fulfilling hisduty goes he can be neither ruffled nor begged, as it says about theman that, 'he tires the doorkeeper with his requests,' even hisexternal appearance suggests a pedantic character, the big hooked noseand the long, thin, black tartar-beard. How could any doorkeeper bemore faithful to his duty? But in the doorkeeper's character there arealso other features which might be very useful for those who seek entryto the law, and when he hinted at some possibility in the future italways seemed to make it clear that he might even go beyond his duty.There's no denying he's a little simple-minded, and that makes him alittle conceited. Even if all he said about his power and the power ofthe other doorkeepers and how not even he could bear the sight ofthem—I say even if all these assertions are right, the way he makesthem shows that he's too simple and arrogant to understand properly.The commentators say about this that, 'correct understanding of a matterand a misunderstanding of the same matter are not mutually exclusive.'Whether they're right or not, you have to concede that his simplicityand arrogance, however little they show, do weaken his function ofguarding the entrance, they are defects in the doorkeeper's character.You also have to consider that the doorkeeper seems to be friendly bynature, he isn't always just an official. He makes a joke right at thebeginning, in that he invites the man to enter at the same time asmaintaining the ban on his entering, and then he doesn't send him awaybut gives him, as it says in the text, a stool to sit on and lets himstay by the side of the door. The patience with which he puts up withthe man's requests through all these years, the little questioningsessions, accepting the gifts, his politeness when he puts up with theman cursing his fate even though it was the doorkeeper who caused thatfate—all these things seem to want to arouse our sympathy. Not everydoorkeeper would have behaved in the same way. And finally, he lets theman beckon him and he bends deep down to him so that he can put hislast question. There's no more than some slight impatience—thedoorkeeper knows everything's come to its end—shown in the words,'You're insatiable.' There are many commentators who go even further inexplaining it in this way and think the words, 'you're insatiable' arean expression of friendly admiration, albeit with some condescension.However you look at it the figure of the doorkeeper comes outdifferently from how you might think." "You know the story better thanI do and you've known it for longer," said K. They were silent for awhile. And then K. said, "So you think the man was not cheated, doyou?" "Don't get me wrong," said the priest, "I'm just pointing out thedifferent opinions about it. You shouldn't pay too much attention topeople's opinions. The text cannot be altered, and the various opinionsare often no more than an expression of despair over it. There's evenone opinion which says it's the doorkeeper who's been cheated." "Thatdoes seem to take things too far," said K. "How can they argue thedoorkeeper has been cheated?" "Their argument," answered the priest,"is based on the simplicity of the doorkeeper. They say the doorkeeperdoesn't know the inside of the law, only the way into it where he justwalks up and down. They see his ideas of what's inside the law asrather childish, and suppose he's afraid himself of what he wants tomake the man frightened of. Yes, he's more afraid of it than the man, asthe man wants nothing but to go inside the law, even after he's heardabout the terrible doormen there, in contrast to the doorkeeper whodoesn't want to go in, or at least we don't hear anything about it. Onthe other hand, there are those who say he must have already been insidethe law as he has been taken on into its service and that could onlyhave been done inside. That can be countered by supposing he could havebeen given the job of doorkeeper by somebody calling out from inside,and that he can't have gone very far inside as he couldn't bear thesight of the third doorkeeper. Nor, through all those years, does thestory say the doorkeeper told the man anything about the inside, otherthan his comment about the other doorkeepers. He could have beenforbidden to do so, but he hasn't said anything about that either. Allthis seems to show he doesn't know anything about what the inside lookslike or what it means, and that that's why he's being deceived. But he'salso being deceived by the man from the country as he's this man'ssubordinate and doesn't know it. There's a lot to indicate that hetreats the man as his subordinate, I expect you remember, but those whohold this view would say it's very clear that he really is hissubordinate. Above all, the free man is superior to the man who has toserve another. Now, the man really is free, he can go wherever he wants,the only thing forbidden to him is entry into the law and, what's more,there's only one man forbidding him to do so—the doorkeeper. If hetakes the stool and sits down beside the door and stays there all hislife he does this of his own free will, there's nothing in the story tosay he was forced to do it. On the other hand, the doorkeeper is kept tohis post by his employment, he's not allowed to go away from it and itseems he's not allowed to go inside either, not even if he wanted to.Also, although he's in the service of the law he's only there for thisone entrance, therefore he's there only in the service of this one manwho the door's intended for. This is another way in which he's hissubordinate. We can take it that he's been performing this somewhatempty service for many years, through the whole of a man's life, as itsays that a man will come, that means someone old enough to be a man.That means the doorkeeper will have to wait a long time before hisfunction is fulfilled, he will have to wait for as long as the manliked, who came to the door of his own free will. Even the end of thedoorkeeper's service is determined by when the man's life ends, so thedoorkeeper remains his subordinate right to the end. And it's pointedout repeatedly that the doorkeeper seems to know nothing of any ofthis, although this is not seen as anything remarkable, as those whohold this view see the doorkeeper as deluded in a way that's far worse,a way that's to do with his service. At the end, speaking about theentrance he says, 'Now I'll go and close it,' although at the beginningof the story it says the door to the law is open as it always is, but ifit's always open—always—that means it's open independently of thelifespan of the man it's intended for, and not even the doorkeeper willbe able to close it. There are various opinions about this, some saythe doorkeeper was only answering a question or showing his devotion toduty or, just when the man was in his last moments, the doorkeeperwanted to cause him regret and sorrow. There are many who agree that hewouldn't be able to close the door. They even believe, at the end atleast, the doorkeeper is aware, deep down, that he's the man'ssubordinate, as the man sees the light that shines out of the entry tothe law whereas the doorkeeper would probably have his back to it andsays nothing at all to show there's been any change." "That is wellsubstantiated," said K., who had been repeating some parts of thepriest's explanation to himself in a whisper. "It is well substantiated,and now I too think the doorkeeper must have been deceived. Althoughthat does not mean I've abandoned what I thought earlier as the twoversions are, to some extent, not incompatible. It's not clear whetherthe doorkeeper sees clearly or is deceived. I said the man had beencheated. If the doorkeeper understands clearly, then there could be somedoubt about it, but if the doorkeeper has been deceived then the man isbound to believe the same thing. That would mean the doorkeeper is not acheat but so simple-minded that he ought to be dismissed from his jobimmediately; if the doorkeeper is mistaken it will do him no harm butthe man will be harmed immensely." "There you've found another opinion,"said the priest, "as there are many who say the story doesn't giveanyone the right to judge the doorkeeper. However he might seem to us heis still in the service of the law, so he belongs to the law, so he'sbeyond what man has a right to judge. In this case we can't believe thedoorkeeper is the man's subordinate. Even if he has to stay at theentrance into the law his service makes him incomparably more than if helived freely in the world. The man has come to the law for the firsttime and the doorkeeper is already there. He's been given his positionby the law, to doubt his worth would be to doubt the law." "I can't sayI'm in complete agreement with this view," said K. shaking his head, "asif you accept it you'll have to accept that everything said by thedoorkeeper is true. But you've already explained very fully that that'snot possible." "No," said the priest, "you don't need to accepteverything as true, you only have to accept it as necessary.""Depressing view," said K. "The lie made into the rule of the world."

K. said that as if it were his final word but it was not hisconclusion. He was too tired to think about all the ramifications ofthe story, and the sort of thoughts they led him into were not familiarto him, unrealistic things, things better suited for officials of thecourt to discuss than for him. The simple story had lost its shape, hewanted to shake it off, and the priest who now felt quite compassionateallowed this and accepted K.'s remarks without comment, even though hisview was certainly very different from K.'s.

In silence, they carried on walking for some time, K. stayed closebeside the priest without knowing where he was. The lamp in his handhad long since gone out. Once, just in front of him, he thought hecould see the statue of a saint by the glitter of the silver on it,although it quickly disappeared back into the darkness. So that he wouldnot remain entirely dependent on the priest, K. asked him, "We're nownear the main entrance, are we?" "No," said the priest, "we're a longway from it. Do you already want to go?" K. had not thought of goinguntil then, but he immediately said, "Yes, certainly, I have to go. I'mthe chief clerk in a bank and there are people waiting for me, I onlycame here to show a foreign business contact round the cathedral.""Alright," said the priest offering him his hand, "go then." "But Ican't find my way round in this darkness by myself," said K. "Go to yourleft as far as the wall," said the priest, "then continue alongside thewall without leaving it and you'll find a way out." The priest had onlygone a few paces from him, but K. was already shouting loudly, "Please,wait!" "I'm waiting," said the priest. "Is there anything else you wantfrom me?" asked K. "No," said the priest. "You were so friendly to meearlier on," said K., "and you explained everything, but now youabandon me as if I were nothing to you." "You have to go," said thepriest. "Well, yes," said K., "you need to understand that." "First, youneed to understand who I am," said the priest. "You're the prisonchaplain," said K., and went closer to the priest, it was not soimportant for him to go straight back to the bank as he had made out, hecould very well stay where he was. "So that means I belong to thecourt," said the priest. "So why would I want anything from you? Thecourt doesn't want anything from you. It accepts you when you come andit lets you go when you leave."

Chapter Ten

End

The evening before K.'s thirty-first birthday—it was about nineo'clock in the evening, the time when the streets were quiet—two mencame to where he lived. In frock coats, pale and fat, wearing top hatsthat looked like they could not be taken off their heads. After somebrief formalities at the door of the flat when they first arrived, thesame formalities were repeated at greater length at K.'s door. He hadnot been notified they would be coming, but K. sat in a chair near thedoor, dressed in black as they were, and slowly put on new gloves whichstretched tightly over his fingers and behaved as if he were expectingvisitors. He immediately stood up and looked at the gentlemeninquisitively. "You've come for me then, have you?" he asked. Thegentlemen nodded, one of them indicated the other with the top hand nowin his hand. K. told them he had been expecting a different visitor. Hewent to the window and looked once more down at the dark street. Mostof the windows on the other side of the street were also dark already,many of them had the curtains closed. In one of the windows on the samefloor where there was a light on, two small children could be seenplaying with each other inside a playpen, unable to move from wherethey were, reaching out for each other with their little hands. "Someancient, unimportant actors—that's what they've sent for me," said K.to himself, and looked round once again to confirm this to himself."They want to sort me out as cheaply as they can." K. suddenly turnedround to face the two men and asked, "What theatre do you play in?""Theatre?" asked one of the gentlemen, turning to the other forassistance and pulling in the corners of his mouth. The other made agesture like someone who was dumb, as if he were struggling with someorganism causing him trouble. "You're not properly prepared to answerquestions," said K. and went to fetch his hat.

As soon as they were on the stairs the gentlemen wanted to take K.'sarms, but K. said "Wait till we're in the street, I'm not ill." Butthey waited only until the front door before they took his arms in away that K. had never experienced before. They kept their shouldersclose behind his, did not turn their arms in but twisted them aroundthe entire length of K.'s arms and took hold of his hands with a graspthat was formal, experienced and could not be resisted. K. was heldstiff and upright between them, they formed now a single unit so that ifany one of them had been knocked down all of them must have fallen.They formed a unit of the sort that normally can be formed only bymatter that is lifeless.

Whenever they passed under a lamp K. tried to see his companions moreclearly, as far as was possible when they were pressed so closetogether, as in the dim light of his room this had been hardlypossible. "Maybe they're tenors," he thought as he saw their big doublechins. The cleanliness of their faces disgusted him. He could see thehands that cleaned them, passing over the corners of their eyes,rubbing at their upper lips, scratching out the creases on those chins.

When K. noticed that, he stopped, which meant the others had to stoptoo; they were at the edge of an open square, devoid of people butdecorated with flower beds. "Why did they send you, of all people!" hecried out, more a shout than a question. The two gentleman clearly knewno answer to give, they waited, their free arms hanging down, likenurses when the patient needs to rest. "I will go no further," said K.as if to see what would happen. The gentlemen did not need to make anyanswer, it was enough that they did not loosen their grip on K. andtried to move him on, but K. resisted them. "I'll soon have no need ofmuch strength, I'll use all of it now," he thought. He thought of theflies that tear their legs off struggling to get free of the flypaper."These gentleman will have some hard work to do."

Just then, Miss Bürstner came up into the square in front of them fromthe steps leading from a small street at a lower level. It was notcertain that it was her, although the similarity was, of course, great.But it did not matter to K. whether it was certainly her anyway, hejust became suddenly aware that there was no point in his resistance.There would be nothing heroic about it if he resisted, if he now causedtrouble for these gentlemen, if in defending himself he sought to enjoyhis last glimmer of life. He started walking, which pleased thegentlemen and some of their pleasure conveyed itself to him. Now theypermitted him to decide which direction they took, and he decided totake the direction that followed the young woman in front of them, notso much because he wanted to catch up with her, nor even because hewanted to keep her in sight for as long as possible, but only so thathe would not forget the reproach she represented for him. "The onlything I can do now," he said to himself, and his thought was confirmedby the equal length of his own steps with the steps of the two others,"the only thing I can do now is keep my common sense and do what'sneeded right till the end. I always wanted to go at the world and tryand do too much, and even to do it for something that was not toocheap. That was wrong of me. Should I now show them I learned nothingfrom facing trial for a year? Should I go out like someone stupid?Should I let anyone say, after I'm gone, that at the start of theproceedings I wanted to end them, and that now that they've ended I wantto start them again? I don't want anyone to say that. I'm grateful theysent these unspeaking, uncomprehending men to go with me on thisjourney, and that it's been left up to me to say what's necessary."

Meanwhile, the young woman had turned off into a side street, but K.could do without her now and let his companions lead him. All three ofthem now, in complete agreement, went over a bridge in the light of themoon, the two gentlemen were willing to yield to each little movementmade by K. as he moved slightly towards the edge and directed the groupin that direction as a single unit. The moonlight glittered andquivered in the water, which divided itself around a small islandcovered in a densely-piled mass of foliage and trees and bushes.Beneath them, now invisible, there were gravel paths with comfortablebenches where K. had stretched himself out on many summer's days. "Ididn't actually want to stop here," he said to his companions, shamed bytheir compliance with his wishes. Behind K.'s back one of them seemedto quietly criticise the other for the misunderstanding about stopping,and then they went on. They went on up through several streets wherepolicemen were walking or standing here and there; some in the distanceand then some very close. One of them with a bushy moustache, his handon the grip of his sword, seemed to have some purpose in approachingthe group, which was hardly unsuspicious. The two gentlemen stopped,the policeman seemed about to open his mouth, and then K. drove hisgroup forcefully forward. Several times he looked back cautiously to seeif the policeman was following; but when they had a corner betweenthemselves and the policeman K. began to run, and the two gentlemen,despite being seriously short of breath, had to run with him.

In this way they quickly left the built up area and found themselves inthe fields which, in this part of town, began almost without anytransition zone. There was a quarry, empty and abandoned, near abuilding which was still like those in the city. Here the men stopped,perhaps because this had always been their destination or perhapsbecause they were too exhausted to run any further. Here they releasedtheir hold on K., who just waited in silence, and took their top hatsoff while they looked round the quarry and wiped the sweat off theirbrows with their handkerchiefs. The moonlight lay everywhere with thenatural peace that is granted to no other light.

After exchanging a few courtesies about who was to carry out the nexttasks—the gentlemen did not seem to have been allocated specificfunctions—one of them went to K. and took his coat, his waistcoat, andfinally his shirt off him. K. made an involuntary shiver, at which thegentleman gave him a gentle, reassuring tap on the back. Then hecarefully folded the things up as if they would still be needed, evenif not in the near future. He did not want to expose K. to the chillynight air without moving though, so he took him under the arm andwalked up and down with him a little way while the other gentlemanlooked round the quarry for a suitable place. When he had found it hemade a sign and the other gentleman escorted him there. It was near therockface, there was a stone lying there that had broken loose. Thegentlemen sat K. down on the ground, leant him against the stone andsettled his head down on the top of it. Despite all the effort theywent to, and despite all the co-operation shown by K., his demeanourseemed very forced and hard to believe. So one of the gentlemen askedthe other to grant him a short time while he put K. in position byhimself, but even that did nothing to make it better. In the end theyleft K. in a position that was far from the best of the ones they hadtried so far. Then one of the gentlemen opened his frock coat and from asheath hanging on a belt stretched across his waistcoat he withdrew along, thin, double-edged butcher's knife which he held up in the lightto test its sharpness. The repulsive courtesies began once again, one ofthem passed the knife over K. to the other, who then passed it back overK. to the first. K. now knew it would be his duty to take the knife asit passed from hand to hand above him and thrust it into himself. Buthe did not do it, instead he twisted his neck, which was still free,and looked around. He was not able to show his full worth, was not ableto take all the work from the official bodies, he lacked the rest ofthe strength he needed and this final shortcoming was the fault ofwhoever had denied it to him. As he looked round, he saw the top floorof the building next to the quarry. He saw how a light flickered on andthe two halves of a window opened out, somebody, made weak and thin bythe height and the distance, leant suddenly far out from it andstretched his arms out even further. Who was that? A friend? A goodperson? Somebody who was taking part? Somebody who wanted to help? Washe alone? Was it everyone? Would anyone help? Were there objections thathad been forgotten? There must have been some. The logic cannot berefuted, but someone who wants to live will not resist it. Where was thejudge he'd never seen? Where was the high court he had never reached? Heraised both hands and spread out all his fingers.

But the hands of one of the gentleman were laid on K.'s throat, whilethe other pushed the knife deep into his heart and twisted it there,twice. As his eyesight failed, K. saw the two gentlemen cheek by cheek,close in front of his face, watching the result. "Like a dog!" he said,it was as if the shame of it should outlive him.

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