Part 2

He fell into a certain agitation, paced up and down, which no one hindered him from doing, pushed his cuffs back, felt his chest, smoothed his hair, passed by the three gentlemen, said, “it is pointless anyway,” whereupon they turned toward him and looked at him in a accommodating but serious manner, and finally halted again before the supervisor’s table. “State Attorney Hasterer is my good friend,” he said, “may I telephone him?” “Certainly,” said the supervisor, “but I do not know what sense that would have, unless it were that you have some private matter to discuss with him.” “What sense?” cried K., more dismayed than angered. “Who are you anyway? You want a sense and carry out the most senseless thing there is. Is it not enough to make stones weep? The gentlemen first fell upon me and now sit or stand around here and let me ride the high horse before you. What sense would there be in telephoning a state attorney when I am allegedly under arrest? Very well, I shall not telephone.” “But do,” said the supervisor and stretched his hand out toward the anteroom where the telephone was, “please do telephone.” “No, I do not want to anymore,” said K. and went to the window. Across the way the company was still at the window and seemed, now only because K. had stepped up to the window, slightly disturbed in the calm of their watching. The old people wanted to rise, but the man behind them calmed them. “There are such onlookers over there too,” K. called quite loudly to the supervisor and pointed with his index finger out. “Away from there,” he then called across. The three also immediately stepped back a few paces, the two old people even behind the man, who covered them with his broad body and, judging by his mouth movements, said something unintelligible at that distance. But they did not entirely disappear, rather seemed to wait for the moment when they could unnoticed approach the window again. “Intrusive, inconsiderate people!” said K. as he turned back in the room. The supervisor possibly agreed with him, as K. believed to recognize with a sidelong glance. But it was just as possible that he had not listened at all, for he had pressed one hand firmly on the table and seemed to be comparing the fingers by their length. The two guards sat on a trunk covered with a decorative cloth and rubbed their knees. The three young men had placed their hands on their hips and looked around aimlessly. It was quiet as in some forgotten bureau. “Well, gentlemen,” called K., for a moment it seemed to him as if he carried them all on his shoulders, “judging by your appearance, my affair ought to be concluded. I am of the opinion that it is best not to think further about the justification or non-justification of your proceeding and to give the matter a conciliatory conclusion by a mutual handshake. If you are also of my opinion, then please” — and he stepped up to the supervisor’s table and offered him his hand. The supervisor raised his eyes, gnawed on his lips and looked at K.’s outstretched hand; still K. believed the supervisor would take it. But this one stood up, took a hard round hat that lay on Fräulein Bürstner’s bed and carefully set it on his head with both hands, as one does when trying on new hats. “How simple everything seems to you!” he said meanwhile to K., “we should give the matter a conciliatory conclusion, you meant? No, no, that really will not do. With which I by no means want to say that you should despair. No, why should you? You are merely under arrest, nothing more. That I had to communicate to you, have done so, and have also seen how you took it. That is enough for today and we can take our leave, though only provisionally. You will probably want to go to the bank now?” “To the bank?” asked K., “I thought I was under arrest.” K. asked with a certain defiance, for although his handshake had not been accepted, he felt, especially since the supervisor had stood up, ever more independent of all these people. He played with them. He had the intention, if they should leave, to run after them to the house door and offer them his arrest. Therefore he repeated: “How can I go to the bank, since I am under arrest?” “Ah, so,” said the supervisor, who was already at the door, “you have misunderstood me. You are under arrest, certainly, but that shall not hinder you from fulfilling your profession. You shall also not be hindered in your ordinary way of life.” “Then being under arrest is not very bad,” said K. and went close up to the supervisor. “I never meant it otherwise,” said the latter. “But then it does not even seem to have been very necessary to announce the arrest,” said K. and went still closer. The others had also drawn near. All were now gathered in a narrow space by the door. “It was my duty,” said the supervisor. “A foolish duty,” said K. unyieldingly. “May be,” answered the supervisor, “but let us not lose our time with such talk. I had assumed that you want to go to the bank. Since you pay attention to every word, I add: I do not force you to go to the bank, I had merely assumed that you want to. And in order to make that easier for you, and to make your arrival at the bank as inconspicuous as possible, I have kept these three gentlemen, your colleagues, here at your disposal.” “What?” cried K. and gazed at the three in astonishment. These so uncharacteristic, bloodless young men, whom he still had only as a group by the photographs in his memory, were actually officials from his bank, not colleagues, that was saying too much and already a gap in the supervisor’s omniscience, but subordinate officials from the bank they certainly were. How could K. have overlooked that? How must he have been, to have accepted from the supervisor and the guards, not to recognize these three. The stiff Rabensteiner swinging his hands, the blond Kullich with the deep-set eyes and Kaminer with the unbearable smile caused by a chronic muscle strain, “Good morning!” said K. after a while and offered his hand to the gentlemen who bowed correctly. “I did not recognize you at all. Now we shall go to work, then?” The gentlemen nodded laughing and eagerly, as if they had been waiting for that the whole time, only when K. missed his hat, which had remained in his room, they all ran one behind the other to fetch it, which after all allowed one to conclude a certain embarrassment. K. stood still and watched them through the two open doors, the last was naturally the indifferent Rabensteiner, who had merely struck up an elegant trot. Kaminer handed over the hat and K. had to tell himself expressly, as was incidentally also often necessary in the bank, that Kaminer’s smile was not intentional, indeed that he could intentionally not smile at all. In the anteroom then Frau Grubach, who did not look very guilty, opened the apartment door for the whole company and K. looked, as often, down at her apron string, which cut so unnecessarily deep into her mighty body. Downstairs K. decided, watch in hand, to take an automobile, so as not to needlessly increase the already half-hour delay. Kaminer ran to the corner to fetch the carriage, the two others obviously tried to distract K., when suddenly Kullich pointed to the opposite house door, in which just then the tall man with the blond pointed beard appeared and in the first moment, a little embarrassed that he now showed himself in his full height, stepped back to the wall and leaned against it. The old people were probably still on the stairs. K. was annoyed at Kullich for drawing attention to the man whom he himself had seen earlier, indeed whom he had even expected. “Do not look there,” he blurted out, without noticing how striking such a manner of speech was toward independent men. But no explanation was needed either, for just then came the automobile, one got in and drove off. Then K. remembered that he had not noticed the leaving of the supervisor and the guards at all; the supervisor had concealed the three officials from him and now again the officials the supervisor. That did not prove much presence of mind, and K. resolved to observe himself more closely in this regard. Yet he still involuntarily turned around and leaned forward over the rear deck of the automobile, to possibly still see the supervisor and the guards. But immediately he turned back again, and leaned comfortably into the corner of the carriage without even making the attempt to look for anyone. Although it did not seem so, he would just then have needed encouragement, but now the gentlemen seemed tired, Rabensteiner looked out to the right of the carriage, Kullich to the left and only Kaminer stood available with his grin, over which to make a joke humanity unfortunately forbade.

This spring K. used to spend the evenings in such a way that after work, if still possible — he mostly sat in the bureau until 9 o’clock — he took a little walk alone or with officials and then went into a beer cellar, where he sat at a regulars’ table with mostly older gentlemen usually until 11 o’clock. But there were also exceptions to this arrangement, when e.g. K. was invited by the bank director, who valued his working power and trustworthiness very highly, for an automobile ride or for a supper in his villa. Besides, K. went once a week to a girl named Elsa, who during the night until late morning served as a waitress in a wine tavern and during the day received visitors only from her bed.

This evening, however — the day had passed quickly under strained work and many honoring and friendly birthday wishes — K. wanted to go home at once. In all small pauses of the day’s work he had thought of it; without exactly knowing what he meant, it seemed to him as if through the events of the morning a great disorder had been caused in the whole apartment of Frau Grubach and that precisely he was needed to restore the order. But once this order was restored, then every trace of those events was erased and everything resumed its old course. In particular nothing was to be feared from the three officials, they were again sunk into the great officialdom of the bank, no change was to be noticed in them. K. had had them called individually and jointly into his bureau, for no other purpose than to observe them; always he had been able to dismiss them satisfied.

When he arrived at half past 10 in the evening before the house in which he lived, he met in the house door a young fellow, who stood there straddle-legged and smoked a pipe. “Who are you,” asked K. at once and brought his face close to the fellow, one could not see much in the half-dark of the hallway. “I am the son of the caretaker, gracious sir,” answered the fellow, took the pipe out of his mouth and stepped aside. “The son of the caretaker?” asked K. and impatiently tapped the floor with his stick. “Does the gracious sir wish something? Shall I fetch the father?” “No, no,” said K., in his voice lay something forgiving, as if the fellow had done something bad, but he forgave him. “It is all right,” he then said and went on, but before he ascended the stairs, he turned around once more.

He could have gone straight into his room, but since he wanted to speak with Frau Grubach, he knocked at her door at once. She sat with a knitting stocking at the table, on which still lay a heap of old stockings. K. absentmindedly excused himself for coming so late, but Frau Grubach was very friendly and wanted to hear no excuse, for him she was always available to speak, he knew very well that he was her best and dearest tenant. K. looked around the room, it was again completely in its old state, the breakfast dishes that had stood early on the little table by the window were already cleared away. Women’s hands accomplish much in silence, he thought, he would perhaps have smashed the dishes on the spot, but certainly not been able to carry them out. He looked at Frau Grubach with a certain gratitude. “Why are you still working so late,” he asked. They now both sat at the table and K. from time to time buried his hand in the stockings. “There is much work,” she said, “during the day I belong to the tenants; if I want to put my things in order, only the evenings remain for me.” “I probably gave you extraordinary work today.” “How so,” she asked, becoming a little more eager, the work rested in her lap. “I mean the men who were here this morning.” “Ah, so,” she said and returned to her calm, “that did not make me any particular work.” K. silently watched how she took up the knitting stocking again. She seems surprised that I speak of it, he thought, she seems to think it not right that I speak of it. All the more important is it that I do it. “Yet it certainly made work,” he then said, “but it will not happen again.” “No, that cannot happen again,” she said confirmingly and smiled at K. almost wistfully. “Do you mean that seriously?” asked K. “Yes,” she said more quietly, “but above all you must not take it too hard. What does not happen in the world! Since you speak so confidentially with me, Herr K., I may confess to you that I listened a little behind the door and that the two guards also told me something. It is about your happiness, and that lies truly on my heart, more than perhaps befits me, for I am after all only the landlady. Well, I have thus heard something, but I cannot say that it was anything particularly bad. No. You are indeed under arrest, but not arrested as a thief is arrested. When one is arrested as a thief, that is bad, but this arrest —. It seems to me like something learned, excuse me if I say something foolish, it seems to me like something learned, which I do not understand, but which one also need not understand.”

“It is nothing foolish that you said, Frau Grubach, at least I am partly of your opinion, only I judge the whole even more sharply than you, and simply do not hold it for something learned, but for nothing at all. I was taken by surprise, that was it. Had I immediately after waking, without letting myself be distracted by Anna’s absence, gotten up and without regard for anyone who might have crossed my path, gone to you, had I this time exceptionally perhaps breakfasted in the kitchen, had myself brought the articles of clothing from my room by you, in short, had I acted reasonably, then nothing further would have happened, everything that wanted to become would have been stifled. One is so little prepared. In the bank for example I am prepared, there something of the sort could impossible happen to me, I have there my own servant, the general telephone and the bureau telephone stand before me on the table, continually people come, parties and officials, but besides and above all I am there continually in the context of work, therefore present-minded, it would be almost a pleasure for me to be confronted there with such a matter. Well, it is over and I actually did not want to speak of it further, only your judgment, the judgment of a reasonable woman I wanted to hear and am very glad that we agree therein. Now you must however shake my hand, such an agreement must be confirmed by a handshake.”

Whether she will shake my hand? The supervisor did not shake my hand, he thought and looked at the woman differently than before, examining. She stood up, because he too had stood up, she was a little embarrassed, because not everything K. had said had been understandable to her. In consequence of this embarrassment she said something she did not at all want and which was also not at all in place: “Do not take it so hard, Herr K.,” she said, had tears in her voice and of course also forgot the handshake. “I would not know that I take it hard,” said K. suddenly tired and recognizing the worthlessness of all assents of this woman.

At the door he asked further: “Is Fräulein Bürstner at home?” “No,” said Frau Grubach and smiled at this dry information with a belated reasonable participation. “She is at the theater. Did you want something of her? Shall I give her a message?” “Oh, I only wanted to speak a few words with her.” “I unfortunately do not know when she comes; when she is at the theater, she usually comes late.” “That is quite indifferent,” said K. and already turned his lowered head to the door, to go away, “I only wanted to apologize to her for having made use of her room today.” “That is not necessary, Herr K., you are too considerate, the young lady knows nothing of it at all, she has not been home since early morning, and everything has already been put in order, see for yourself.” And she opened the door to Fräulein Bürstner’s room. “Thank you, I believe it,” said K., but then went to the open door. The moon shone quietly into the dark room. As far as one could see, everything was really in its place, also the blouse no longer hung on the window latch. Remarkably high seemed the cushions in the bed, they lay partly in the moonlight. “The young lady often comes home late,” said K. and looked at Frau Grubach, as if she bore the responsibility for it. “As young people are!” said Frau Grubach excusingly. “Certainly, certainly,” said K., “but it can go too far.” “It can,” said Frau Grubach, “how very right you have, Herr K. Perhaps even in this case. I certainly do not want to slander Fräulein Bürstner, she is a good dear girl, friendly, tidy, punctual, industrious, I value all that highly, but one thing is true, she should be prouder, more reserved. I have seen her this month already twice in out-of-the-way streets and always with another gentleman. It is very embarrassing to me, I tell it before the living God only to you, Herr K., but it will not be avoidable that I also speak with the young lady herself about it. It is incidentally not the only thing that makes her suspicious to me.” “You are on a quite wrong track,” said K. angrily and hardly able to conceal it, “besides you have obviously also misunderstood my remark about the young lady, it was not meant so. I even warn you sincerely against saying anything whatsoever to the young lady, you are quite in error, I know the young lady very well, none of what you said is true. Besides perhaps I go too far, I do not want to hinder you, say to her what you will. Good night.” “Herr K.,” said Frau Grubach imploringly and hurried after K. to his door, which he had already opened, “I do not want to speak with the young lady at all yet, naturally I want to observe her further first, only to you have I confided what I knew. Finally it must be in the sense of every tenant if one seeks to keep the boarding house pure, and nothing else is my endeavor therein.” “Purity!” cried K. still through the crack of the door, “if you want to keep the boarding house pure, you must first give me notice.” Then he slammed the door, a soft knocking he no longer heeded.

In contrast he resolved, since he had no desire to sleep at all, to stay awake and on this occasion also to establish when Fräulein Bürstner would come. Perhaps it would then also be possible, however inappropriate it might be, to speak a few words with her. As he lay at the window and pressed his tired eyes, he thought for a moment even of punishing Frau Grubach and persuading Fräulein Bürstner to cancel together with him. Immediately however it seemed to him utterly exaggerated and he even had the suspicion against himself that he was out to change the apartment because of the morning’s events. Nothing would have been more senseless and above all more purposeless and contemptible.

When he had grown weary of looking out onto the empty street, he lay down on the couch, after he had opened the door to the anteroom a little, in order to be able to see from the couch anyone who entered the apartment. Until about 11 o’clock he lay quietly, smoking a cigar, on the couch. From then on he could no longer stay there, but went a little into the anteroom, as if he could thereby accelerate the arrival of Fräulein Bürstner. He had no special longing for her, he could not even exactly remember how she looked, but now he wanted to speak with her and it tempted him that she through her late coming also brought unrest and disorder into the conclusion of this day. She was also to blame that he had not eaten supper today and that he had omitted the visit to Elsa intended for today. Both he could however still make up for by going now into the wine tavern where Elsa was employed. He wanted to do that also later after the conversation with Fräulein Bürstner.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”