He still had time.  "Allow me," he said, and hurried between the
two policemen through into his room.  "He seems sensible enough," he
heard them say behind him.  Once in his room, he quickly pulled open the
drawer of his writing desk, everything in it was very tidy but in his
agitation he was unable to find the identification documents he was
looking for straight away.  He finally found his bicycle permit and was
about to go back to the policemen with it when it seemed to him too
petty, 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 side
opened and Mrs. Grubach was about to enter.  He only saw her for an
instant, for as soon as she recognised K. she was clearly embarrassed,
asked for forgiveness and disappeared, closing the door behind her very
carefully.  "Do come in," K. could have said just then. But now he stood
in the middle of the room with his papers in his hand and still looking
at the door which did not open again.  He stayed like that until he was
startled out of it by the shout of the policeman who sat at the little
table 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 the
big policeman.  "You're under arrest, aren't you."  "But how can I be
under 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 I certainly want to see the arrest warrant."  "Oh, my God!"
said the policeman.  "In a position like yours, and you think you can
start giving orders, 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 anyone else you know!"  "That's true, you know, you'd better
believe it," said Franz, holding a cup of coffee in his hand which he
did not lift to his mouth but looked at K. in a way that was probably
meant to be full of meaning but could not actually be understood.  K.
found himself, without intending it, in a mute dialogue with Franz, but
then slapped his hand down on his papers and said, "Here are my identity
documents."  "And what do you want us to do about it?" replied the big
policeman, loudly.  "The way you're carrying on, it's worse than a
child. What is it you want?  Do you want to get this great, bloody trial
of yours over with quickly by talking about ID and arrest warrants with
us?  We're just coppers, that's all we are.  Junior officers like us
hardly know one end of an ID card from another, all we've got to do with
you is keep an eye on you for ten hours a day and get paid for it.
That's all we are.  Mind you, what we can do is make sure that the high
officials we work for find out just what sort of person it is they're
going to arrest, and why he should be arrested, before they issue the
warrant.  There's no mistake there.   Our authorities as far as I know,
and I only know the lowest grades, don't go out looking for guilt among
the public; it's the guilt that draws them out, like it says in the law,
and they have to send us police officers out.  That's the law. Where
d'you think there'd be any mistake there?"  "I don't know this law,"
said K.  "So much the worse for you, then," said the policeman.  "It's
probably exists only in your heads," said K., he wanted, in some way, to
insinuate his way into the thoughts of the policemen, to re-shape those
thoughts to his benefit or to make himself at home there.  But the
policeman just said dismissively, "You'll find out when it affects you."
Franz joined in, and said, "Look at this, Willem, he admits he doesn't
know the law and at the same time insists he's innocent."  "You're quite
right, but we can't get him to understand 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 up with the chattering of base functionaries
like this? - and they admit themselves that they are of the lowest
position.  They're talking about things 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 of themselves.  I just need  few words
with someone of the same social standing as myself and everything will
be incomparably clearer, much clearer than a long conversation with
these two can make it.  He walked up and down the free space in the room
a couple of times, across the street he could see the old woman who,
now, had pulled an old man, much older than herself, up to the window
and had her arms around him.  K. had to put an end to this display,
"Take me to your superior," he said.  "As soon as he wants to see you.
Not before," said the policeman, the one called Willem.  "And now my
advice to you," he added, "is to go into your room, stay calm, and wait
and see what's to be done with you.  If you take our advice, you won't
tire yourself out thinking about things to no purpose, you need to pull
yourself together as there's a lot that's going to required of you.
You've not behaved towards us the way we deserve 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.  But in spite of all that
we're still willing, if you've got the money, to go and get you some
breakfast from the cafŽ 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
would be 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
ground he 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 in the natural course of events, and went back in his room
without another word either from him or from the policemen.

        He threw himself down on his bed, and from the dressing table he
took the nice apple that he had put there the previous evening for his
breakfast.   Now it was all the breakfast he had and anyway, as he
confirmed as soon as he took his first, big bite of it, it was far
better than a breakfast he could have had through the good will of the
policemen from the dirty cafŽ.  He felt well and confident, he had
failed to go into work at the bank this morning but that could easily be
excused because of the relatively high position he held there.  Should
he really send in his explanation?   He wondered about it.  If nobody
believed him, 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.  It puzzled K., at least it puzzled him looking at it from the
policemen's point of view, that they had made him go into the room and
left him alone there, where he had ten different ways of killing
himself.  At the same time, though, he asked himself, this time looking
at it from his own point of view, what reason he could have to do so.
Because those two were sitting there in the next room and had taken his
breakfast, perhaps?  It would have been so pointless to kill himself
that, even if he had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him
unable.  Maybe, if the policemen had not been so obviously limited in
their mental abilities, it could have been supposed that they had come
to the same conclusion and saw no danger in leaving him alone because of
it.  They could watch now, if they wanted, and see how he went over to
the cupboard in the wall where he kept a bottle of good schnapps, how he
first emptied a glass of it in place of his breakfast and how he then
took a second glassful in order to give himself courage, the last one
just 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
he struck his teeth against the glass.  "The supervisor wants to see
you!" a voice said.  It was only the shout that startled him, this curt,
abrupt, military shout, that he would not have expected from the
policeman called Franz.  In itself, he found the order very welcome.
"At last!" he called back, locked the cupboard and, without delay,
hurried into the next room.  The two policemen were standing there and
chased him back into his bedroom as if that were a matter of course.
"What d'you think you're doing?" they cried.  "Think you're going to see
the supervisor dressed in just your shirt, do you?  He'd see to it you
got a right thumping, and us and all!"  "Let go of me for God's sake!"
called K., who had already been pushed back as far as his wardrobe, "if
you accost me when 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, to some extent, brought him to his senses.  "Ridiculous
formalities!" he grumbled, as he lifted his coat from the chair and kept
it in both his hands for a little while, as if holding it out for the
policemen's inspection.  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 - without knowing even himself what he meant by it - "Well it's not
going to be the main 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 makes things go any faster," said K.  He opened the
wardrobe himself, spent a long time searching through all the clothes,
and chose his best black suit which had a short jacket that had greatly
surprised those who knew him, then he also pulled out a fresh shirt and
began, carefully, to get dressed.  He secretly told himself that he had
succeeded in speeding things up by letting the policemen forget to make
him have a bath.  He watched them to see if they might remember after
all, but of course it never occurred to them, although Willem did not
forget to send Franz up to the supervisor with the message saying that
K. was getting dressed.

        Once he was properly dressed, K. had to pass by Willem as he went
through the next room into the one beyond, the door of which was already
wide open.  K. knew very well that this room had recently been let to a
typist called 'Miss BŸrstner'.  She was in the habit of going out to
work very early and coming back home very late, and K. had never
exchanged more than a few words of greeting with her.  Now, her bedside
table had been pulled into the middle of the room to be used as a desk
for these proceedings, 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
the photographs belonging to Miss BŸrstner that had been put into a
piece of fabric on the wall.  Hung up on the handle of the open window
was a white blouse.  At the window across the street, there was the old
pair again, although now their number had increased, as behind them, and
far taller than they were, stood a man with an open shirt that showed
his chest and a reddish goatee beard which he squeezed and twisted with
his fingers.  "Josef K.?" asked the supervisor, perhaps merely to
attract K.'s attention as he looked round the room.  K. nodded.  "I
daresay you were quite surprised by all that's been taking place this
morning," said the supervisor as, with both hands, he pushed away the
few items on the bedside table - the candle and box of matches, a book
and a pin cushion which lay there as if they were things he would need
for his own business.  "Certainly," said K., and he began to feel
relaxed now that, at last, he stood in front of someone with some sense,
someone with whom he 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 the table and the other things in a group around
it.  "Perhaps you don't quite understand me," K. hurriedly pointed out.
"What I mean is ... " here K. broke off what he was saying and looked
round for somewhere to sit.  "I may sit down, mayn't I?" he asked.
"That's not usual," the supervisor answered.  "What I mean is...," said
K. without delaying a second time, "that, yes, I am very surprised but
when you've been in the world for thirty years already and had to make
your own way through everything yourself, which has been my lot, then
you become hardened to surprises and don't take them too hard.
Especially not what's happened today."  "Why especially not what's
happened today?"  "I wouldn't want to say that I see all of this as a
joke, you seem to have gone to too much trouble making all these
arrangements for that.  Everyone in the house must be taking part in it
as well as all of you, that would be going beyond what could be a joke.
So I don't want to say that this is a joke."  "Quite right," said the
supervisor, looking to see how many matches were left in the box.  "But
on the other hand," K. went on, looking round at everyone there and even
wishing he could get the attention of the three who were looking at the
photographs,  "on the other hand this really can't be all that
important.  That follows from the fact that I've been indicted, but
can't think of the slightest  offence for which I could be indicted.
But even that is all beside the point, the main question is: Who is
issuing the indictment?  What office is conducting this affair?  Are you
officials?  None of you is wearing a uniform, unless what you are
wearing" - here he turned towards Franz - "is meant to be a uniform,
it's actually more of a travelling suit.  I require a clear answer to
all these questions, and I'm quite sure that once things have been made
clear we can take our leave of each other on the best of terms."   The
supervisor slammed the box of matches down on the table.  "You're making
a big mistake," he said. "These gentlemen and I have got nothing to do
with your business, in fact we know almost nothing about you.  We could
be wearing uniforms as proper and exact as you like and your situation
wouldn't be any the worse for it.  As to whether you're on a charge, I
can't give you any sort of clear answer to that, 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 have that's all it is, chit-
chat.  I can't give you an answer to your questions, but I can give you
a bit of advice: You'd better think less about us and what's going to
happen to you, and think a bit more about yourself.  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're damaging it.  And you ought to
do a bit less talking, too.  Almost everything you've said so far has
been things we could have taken from your behaviour, even if you'd said
no more than a few words.  And what you 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 honesty with a telling off?  And was he to learn nothing about the
reasons for his arrest or those who were arresting him?  He became
somewhat cross and began to walk up and down.  No-one stopped him doing
this and he pushed his sleeves back, felt his chest, straightened his
hair,  went over to the three men, said, "It makes no sense," at which
these three turned round to face him and came towards him with serious
expressions.  He finally came again to a halt in front of the
supervisor's desk.  "State Attorney Hasterer is a good friend of mine,"
he said, "can I telephone him?"  "Certainly," said the supervisor, "but
I don't know what the point of that will be, I suppose you must have
some private matter you want to discuss with him."  "What the point is?"
shouted K., more disconcerted that cross.   "Who do you think you are?
You want to see some point in it while you're carrying out something as
pointless as it could be?  It's enough to make you cry!  These gentlemen
first accost me, and now they sit 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'm ostensibly under arrest?  Very well, I won't
make the telephone call."  "You can call him if you want to," said the
supervisor, stretching his had 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., and went over to the window.  Across the
street, the people were still there at the window, and it was only now
that K. had gone up to his window that they seemed to become uneasy
about quietly watching what was going on.  The old couple wanted to get
up but the man behind them calmed them down.  "We've got some kind of
audience over there," called K. to the supervisor, quite loudly, as he
pointed out with his forefinger.  "Go away," he then called across to
them.  And the three of them did immediately retreat a few steps, the
old pair even found themselves behind the man who then concealed them
with the breadth of his body and seemed, going by the movements of his
mouth, to be saying something incomprehensible into the distance.  They
did not disappear entirely, though, but seemed to be waiting for the
moment when they could come back to the window without being noticed.
"Intrusive, thoughtless people!" said K. as he turned back into the
room.  The supervisor may have agreed with him, at least K. thought that
was what he saw from the corner of his eye.  But it was just as possible
that he had not even been listening as he had his hand pressed firmly
down on the table and seemed to be comparing the length of his fingers.
The two policemen were sitting on a chest covered with a coloured
blanket, rubbing their knees.  The three young people had put their
hands on their hips and were looking round aimlessly.  Everything was
still, like in some office that has been forgotten about.  "Now,
gentlemen," called out K., and for a moment it seemed as if he was
carrying all of them on his shoulders, "it looks like your business with
me is over with.  In my opinion, it's best now to stop wondering about
whether you're proceeding correctly or incorrectly, and to bring the
matter to a peaceful close with a mutual handshake.  If you are of the
same opinion, then please... " and he walked up to the supervisor's desk
and held out his hand to him.  The supervisor raised his eyes, bit his
lip and looked at K.'s outstretched hand; K still believed the
supervisor would do as he suggested.  But instead, he stood up, picked
up a hard round hat that was laying on Miss BŸrstner's bed and put it
carefully onto his head, using both hands as if trying on a new hat.
"Everything seems so simple to you, doesn't it," he said to K. as he did
so, "so you think we should bring the matter to a peaceful close, do
you.  No, no, that won't do.  Mind you, on the other hand I certainly
wouldn't want you to think there's no hope for 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've done and now I've seen how
you've taken it.  That's enough for one day and we can take our leave of
each other, for the time being at least.  I expect you'll want to go in
to the bank now, won't you."  "In to the bank?" asked K., "I thought I
was under arrest."   K. said this with a certain amount of defiance as,
although his handshake had not been accepted, 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 let them arrest him.  That's why he
even repeated, "How can I go in to the bank when I'm under arrest?"  "I
see you've misunderstood me," said the supervisor who was already at the
door. "It's true that you're under arrest, but that shouldn't stop you
from carrying out your job.  And there shouldn't be anything to stop you
carrying on with your usual life."  "In that case it's not too bad,
being under arrest," said K., and went up close to the supervisor.  "I
never meant it should be anything else," he replied.  "It hardly seems
to have been necessary notify me of the arrest in that case," said K.,
and went even closer.  The others had also come closer. All of them had
gathered together into a narrow space by the door.  "That was my duty,"
said the supervisor.  "A silly duty," said K., unyielding.  "Maybe so,"
replied the supervisor, "only don't let's waste our time talking on like
this.  I had assumed you'd be wanting to go to the bank.  As you're
paying close attention to every word I'll add this: I'm not forcing you
to go to the bank, I'd just assumed you wanted to.  And to make things
easier for you, and to let you get to the bank with as little fuss as
possible I've put these three gentlemen, colleagues of yours, at your
disposal."  "What's that?" exclaimed K., and looked at the three in
astonishment.  He could only remember seeing them in their group by the
photographs, but these characterless, anaemic young people were indeed
officials from his bank, not colleagues of his, that was putting it too
high and it showed a gap in the omniscience of the supervisor, but they
were nonetheless junior members of staff at the bank.  How could K. have
failed to see that?  How occupied he must have been with the supervisor
and the policemen not to have recognised these three!  Rabensteiner,
with his stiff demeanour and swinging hands, Kullich, with his blonde
hair and deep-set eyes, and Kaminer, with his involuntary grin caused by
chronic muscle spasms.  "Good morning," said K. after a while, extending
his hand to the gentlemen as they bowed correctly to him.  "I didn't
recognise you at all.  So, we'll go into work now, shall we?"  The
gentlemen laughed and nodded enthusiastically, as if that was what they
had been waiting for all the time, except that K. had left his hat in
his room so they all dashed, one after another, into the room to fetch
it, which caused a certain amount of embarrassment.  K. stood where he
was and watched them through the open double doorway, the last to go, of
course, was the apathetic 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 in fact wasn't able to grin deliberately.  At that moment Mrs.
Grubach opened the door from the hallway into the living room where all
the people were.  She did not seem to feel guilty about anything at all,
and K., as often before, looked down at the belt of her apron which, for
no reason, cut so deeply into her hefty body.  Once downstairs, K., with
his watch in his hand, decided to take a taxi - he had already been
delayed by 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
making obvious efforts to keep K. diverted when Kullich pointed to the
doorway of the house on the other side of the street where the large man
with the blonde goatee beard appeared and, a little embarrassed at first
at letting himself be seen in his full height, stepped back to the wall
and leant against it.  The old couple were probably still on the stairs.
K. was cross with Kullich for pointing out this man whom he had already
seen 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 this
way.  But there was no explanation needed anyway as just then the taxi
arrived, they sat inside and set off.  Inside the taxi, K. remembered
that he had not noticed the supervisor and the policemen leaving - the
supervisor had stopped him noticing the three bank staff and now the
three bank staff had stopped him noticing the supervisor.  This showed
that K. was not very attentive, and he resolved to watch himself more
carefully in this respect.  Nonetheless, he gave it no thought as he
twisted himself round and leant over onto the rear shelf of the car to
catch sight of the supervisor and the policemen if he could.  But he
turned back round straight away and leant comfortably into the corner of
the taxi without even having made the effort to see anyone.  Although it
did not seem like it, now was just the time when he needed some
encouragement, but the gentlemen seemed tired just then, Rabensteiner
looked out of the car to the right, Kullich to the left and only Kaminer
was there with his grin at K.'s service.  It would have been inhumane to
make fun of that.

        That spring, whenever possible, K. usually spent his evenings
after work - he usually stayed in the office until nine o'clock - with a
short walk, 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, also exceptions to this habit, times, for instance, when K. was
invited by the bank's manager (whom he greatly respected for his
industry and trustworthiness) to go with him for a ride in his car or to
eat dinner with him at his large house.  K. would also go, once a week,
to see a girl called Elsa who worked as a waitress in a wine bar through
the night until late in the morning.  During the daytime she only
received visitors while still in bed.

        That evening, though, - the day had passed quickly with a lot of
hard work and many respectful and friendly birthday greetings - K.
wanted to go straight home.  Each time he had any small break from the
day's work he considered, without knowing exactly what he had in mind,
that Mrs. Grubach's flat seemed to have been put into great disarray by
the events of 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 have been erased and everything would take its previous course
once more.  In particular, there was nothing to fear from the three bank
officials, they had immersed themselves back into their paperwork and
there was no alteration to be seen in them.  K. had called each of them,
separately or all together, into his office that day for no other reason
than to observe them; he was always satisfied and had always been able
to let them go again.

        At half past nine that evening, when he arrived back in front of
the building where he lived, he met a young lad in the doorway who was
standing there, his legs apart and smoking a pipe.  "Who are you?"
immediately asked K., bringing his face close to the lad's, as it was
hard 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 to
one side.  "The landlord's son?" asked K., and impatiently knocked on
the ground with his stick.  "Did you want anything, sir?  Would you like
me to fetch my father?"  "No, no," said K., there was something
forgiving in his voice, as if the boy had harmed him in some way and he
was excusing him.  "It's alright," he said then, and went on, but before
going up the stairs he turned round once more.

        He could have gone directly to his room, but as he wanted to speak
with Mrs. Grubach he went straight to her door and knocked.  She was sat
at the table with a knitted stocking and a pile of old stockings in
front of 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 was always ready to speak to him, he knew very well that he was her
best and her favourite tenant.  K. looked round the room, it looked
exactly as it usually did, the breakfast dishes, which had been on the
table by the window that morning, had already been cleared away.  "A
woman's hands will do many things when no-one's looking," he thought, he
might himself have smashed all the dishes on the spot but certainly
would not have been able to carry it all out.  He looked at Mrs. Grubach
with some gratitude.  "Why are you working so late?" he asked.  They
were now both sitting at the table, and K. now and then sank his hands
into the pile of stockings.  "There's a lot of work to do," she said,
"during the day I belong to the tenants; if I'm to sort out my own
things there are only the evenings left to me."  "I fear I may have
caused you some exceptional work today."  "How do you mean, Mr. K.?" she
asked, becoming more interested and leaving her work in her lap.  "I
mean the men who were here this morning."  "Oh, I see," she said, and
went peacefully back to what she was doing, "that was no trouble, not
especially."  K. looked on in silence as she took up the knitted
stocking once more.  She seems surprised at my mentioning it, he
thought, she seems to think it's improper 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 must have caused some work for you," he
said then, "but it won't happen again." "No, it can't happen again," she
agreed, and smiled at K. in a way that was almost pained.  "Do you mean
that seriously?" asked K.  "Yes," she said, more gently, "but the
important thing is you mustn't take 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 I listened to a little of what was going
on from behind the door, and that those two policemen told me one or two
things as well.  It's all to do with your happiness, and that's
something that's quite close to my heart, perhaps more than it should be
as I am, after all, only your landlady. Anyway, so I heard one or two
things but I can't really say that it's about anything very serious.
No.  You have been arrested, but it's not in the same way as when they
arrest a thief.  If you're arrested in 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'm saying something stupid -
something very complicated that I don't understand, but something that
you don't really need to understand anyway."

        "There's nothing stupid about what you've said, Mrs. Grubach, or
at least I partly agree with you, only, the way I judge the whole thing
is harsher than yours, and think it's not only not something complicated
but simply a fuss about nothing.  I was just caught unawares, that's
what happened.  If I had got up as soon as I was awake without letting
myself get confused because Anna wasn't there, if I'd got up and paid no
regard to anyone who might have been in my way and come straight to you,
if I'd done 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 behaved sensibly then nothing more would have happened, everything
that was waiting to happen would have been stifled.  People are so often
unprepared.  In the bank, for example, I am well prepared, nothing of
this sort could possibly happen to me there, I have my own assistant
there, there are telephones for internal and external calls in front of
me on the desk, I continually receive visits from people,
representatives, officials, but besides that, and most importantly, I'm
always occupied with my work, that's to say I'm always alert, it would
even be a pleasure for me to find myself faced with something of that
sort.  But now it's over with, and I didn't really even want to talk
about 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 to
be confirmed with a handshake. "

        Will she shake hands with me?  The supervisor didn't shake hands,
he thought, 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 that K.
said.  As a result of this self consciousness she said something that
she certainly did not 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 him it was of very little value.

        Before going out the door he asked, "Is Miss BŸrstner home?"
"No," said Mrs. Grubach, smiling as she gave this simple piece of
information, saying something sensible at last.  "She's at the theatre.
Did you want to see her?  Should I give her a message?"  "I, er, I just
wanted to have a 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 really doesn't matter," said K. his head hanging as he
turned to the door to leave, "I just wanted to give her my apology for
taking over her room today."  "There's no need for that, Mr. K., you're
too conscientious, the young lady doesn't know anything about it, she
hasn't been home since early this morning and everything's been tidied
up again, you can see for yourself."  And she opened the door to Miss
BŸrstner's room.  "Thank you, I'll take your word for it," said K, but
went nonetheless over to the open door.  The moon shone quietly into the
unlit room.  As far as could be seen, everything was indeed in its
place, not even the blouse was hanging on the window handle.  The
pillows on the bed looked remarkably plump as they lay half in the
moonlight.  "Miss BŸrstner often comes home late," said K., looking at
Mrs. Grubach as if that were her responsibility.  "That's how young
people are!" said Mrs. Grubach in to excuse herself.  "Of course, of
course," said K., "but it can be taken too 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 anything nasty about Miss BŸrstner, she
is a good, sweet girl, friendly, tidy, punctual, works hard, I
appreciate all that very much, but one thing is true, she ought to have
more pride, be a bit less forthcoming.  Twice this month already, in the
street over the way, I've seen her with a different gentleman.  I really
don't like saying this, you're the only one I've said this to, Mr. K., I
swear to God, but I'm going to have no choice but to have a few words
with Miss BŸrstner about it myself.  And it'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 he was hardly able to hide it, "and you
have moreover misunderstood what I was saying about Miss BŸrstner, that
is not what I meant.  In fact I warn you quite directly not to say
anything to her, you are quite mistaken, I know Miss BŸrstner very well
and there is no truth at all in what you say.  And what's more, perhaps
I'm going to far, I don't want to get in your way, say to her whatever
you see fit.  Good night."  "Mr. K.," said Mrs. Grubach as if asking him
for something and hurrying to his door which he had already opened, "I
don't want to speak to Miss BŸrstner at all, not yet, of course I'll
continue to keep an eye on her but you're the only one I've told what I
know.  And it is, after all something that everyone 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 crack in the door, "if you want to
keep the house decent you'll first have to give me notice."  Then he
slammed the door shut, there was a gentle knocking to which he paid no
more attention.

        He did not feel at all like going to bed, so he decided to stay
up, and this would also give him the chance to find out when Miss
BŸrstner would arrive home.  Perhaps it would also still be possible,
even if a little inappropriate, to have a few words with her.  As he lay
there by the window, pressing his hands to his tired eyes, he even
thought for a moment that he might punish Mrs. Grubach by persuading
Miss BŸrstner to give in her notice at the same time as he would.  But
he immediately realised that that would be shockingly excessive, and
there would even be the suspicion that he was moving house because of
the incidents of that 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 he
slightly opened the door to the living room so that he could see anyone
who entered the flat from where he was and lay down on the couch.  He
lay there, quietly smoking a cigar, until about eleven o'clock.  He
wasn't able to hold out longer than that, and went a little way into the
hallway as if in that way he could make Miss BŸrstner arrive sooner.  He
had no particular desire for her, he could not even remember what she
looked like, but now he wanted to speak to her and it irritated him that
her late arrival home meant this day would be full of unease and
disorder right to its very end.  It was also her fault that he had not
had any dinner that evening and that he had been unable to visit Elsa as
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
so even later, after the discussion with Miss BŸrstner.

        It was already gone half past eleven when someone could be heard
in the stairway.  K., who had been lost in his thoughts in the hallway,
walking up and down loudly as if it were his own room, fled behind his
door.  Miss BŸrstner had arrived.  Shivering, she pulled a silk shawl
over her slender shoulders as she locked the door.  The next moment she
would certainly go into her room, where K. ought not to intrude in the
middle of 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 that
when he stepped out of the dark it would give the impression of being an
attack and would certainly, at the very least, have been quite alarming.
There was no time to lose, and in his helplessness he whispered through
the crack of the door, "Miss BŸrstner."  It sounded like he was pleading
with her, not calling to her.  "Is there someone there?" asked Miss
BŸrstner, looking round with her eyes wide open.  "It's me," said K. and
came out.  "Oh, Mr. K.!" said Miss BŸrstner with a smile. "Good
Evening," and offered him her hand.  "I wanted to have a word with you,
if you would allow me?"  "Now?" asked Miss BŸrstner, "does it have to be
now? It is a little odd, isn't it?"  "I've been waiting for you since
nine o'clock."  "Well, I was at the theatre, I didn't know anything
about you waiting for me."  "The reason I need to speak to you only came
up today"  "I see, well I don't see why not, I suppose, apart from being
so tired I could drop.  Come into my room for a few minutes then.  We
certainly can't talk out here, we'd wake everyone up and I think that
would be more unpleasant for us than for them.  Wait here till I've put
the light on in my room, and then turn the light down out here."  K. did
as he was told, and then even waited until Miss BŸrstner came out of her
room and quietly invited him, once more, to come in.  "Sit down," she
said, indicating the ottoman, while she herself remained standing by the
bedpost despite the tiredness she had spoken of; she did not even take
off her hat, which was small but decorated with an abundance of flowers.
"What is it you wanted, then?  I'm really quite curious."  She gently
crossed her legs.

"I expect you'll say," K. began, "that the matter really isn't all that
urgent and we don't need to talk about it right now, but ..."  "I never
listen to introductions," said Miss BŸrstner.  "That makes my job so
much easier," said K.  "This morning, to some extent through my fault,
your room was made a little untidy, this happened because of people I
did not know and against my will but, as I said, because of my fault; I
wanted to apologise for it."  "My room?" asked Miss BŸrstner, and
instead of looking round the room scrutinised K.  "It is true," said K.,
and now, for the first time, they looked each other in the eyes,
"there's no point in saying exactly how this came about."  "But that's
the interesting thing about it," said Miss BŸrstner.  "No," said K.
"Well then," said Miss BŸrstner, "I don't want to force my way into any
secrets, if you insist that it's of no interest I won't insist.  I'm
quite happy to forgive you for it, as you ask, especially as I can't see
anything at all that's been left untidy."  With her hand laid flat on
her lower hip, she made a tour around the room.  At the mat where the
photographs were she stopped.  "Look at this!" she cried.  "My
photographs really have been put in the wrong places.  Oh, that's
horrible.  Someone really has been in my room without permission."  K.
nodded, and quietly cursed Kaminer who worked at his bank and who was
always active doing things that had neither use nor purpose.  "It is
odd," said Miss BŸrstner, "that I'm forced to forbid you to do something
that you ought to have forbidden yourself to do, namely to come into my
room when I'm not here."  "But I did explain to you," said K., and went
over to join her by the photographs, "that it wasn't me who interfered
with your photographs; but as you don't believe me I'll have to admit
that the investigating committee brought along three bank employees with
them, one of them must have touched your photographs and as soon as I
get the chance I'll ask to have him dismissed from the bank.  Yes, there
was an investigating committee here," added K., as the young lady was
looking at him enquiringly.  "Because of you?" she asked.  "Yes,"
answered K.  "No!" the lady cried with a laugh.  "Yes, they were," said
K., "you believe that I'm innocent then, do you?"  "Well now, innocent
... " said the lady, "I don't want to start making any pronouncements
that might have serious consequences, I don't really know you after all,
it means they're dealing with a serious criminal if they send an
investigating committee straight out to get him.  But you're not in
custody now - at least I take it you've not escaped from prison
considering that you seem quite calm - so you can't have committed any
crime of that sort."  "Yes," said K., "but it might be that the
investigating committee could see that I'm innocent, or not so guilty as
had been supposed."  "Yes, that's certainly a possibility," said Miss
BŸrstner, who seemed very interested.  "Listen," said K., "you don't
have much experience in legal matters."  "No, that's true, I don't,"
said Miss BŸrstner, "and I've often regretted it, as I'd like to know
everything and I'm very interested in legal matters.  There's something
peculiarly attractive about the law, isn't there?  But I'll certainly be
perfecting my knowledge 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 some help with my trial."  "That could well be," said Miss
BŸrstner, "why not?  I like to make use of what I know."  "I mean it
quite seriously," said K., "or at least, half seriously, as you do.
This affair is too petty to call in a lawyer, but I could make good use
of someone who could give me advice."  "Yes, but if I'm to give you
advice I'll have to know what it's all about," said Miss BŸrstner.
"That's exactly the problem," said K., "I don't know that myself."  "So
you have been making fun of me, then," said Miss BŸrstner exceedingly
disappointed, "you really ought not to try something like that on at
this time of night."  And she stepped away from the photographs where
they had stood so long together.  "Miss BŸrstner, 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, as it actually wasn't even an
investigating committee, that's just what I called them because I don't
know what else to call them.  There was no cross questioning at all, I
was merely arrested, but by a committee."  Miss BŸrstner sat on the
ottoman and laughed again.  "What was it like then?" she asked.  "It was
terrible" said K., although his mind was no longer on the subject, he
had become totally absorbed by Miss BŸrstner's gaze who was supporting
her chin on one hand - the elbow rested on the cushion of the ottoman -
and slowly stroking her hip with the other.  "That's too vague," said
Miss BŸrstner.  "What's too vague?" asked K.  Then he remembered himself
and asked, "Would you like me to show you what it was like?"  He wanted
to move in some way but did not want to leave.  "I'm already tired,"
said Miss BŸrstner.  "You arrived back so late," said K.  "Now you've
started telling me off.  Well I suppose I deserve it as I shouldn't have
let you in here in the first place, and it 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 this table away from your bedside
and put it here?"  "What do you think you're doing?" said Miss BŸrstner.
"Of course you can't!"  "In that case I can't show you," said K., quite
upset, as if Miss BŸrstner had committed some incomprehensible offence
against him.  "Alright then, if you need it to show what you mean, just
take the bedside table then," said Miss BŸrstner, and after a short
pause added in a weak voice,  "I'm so tired I'm allowing more than I
ought to."  K. put the little table in the middle of the room and sat
down behind it.  "You have to get a proper idea of where the people were
situated, it is very interesting.  I'm the supervisor, sitting over
there on the chest are two policemen, standing next to the photographs
there are three young people.  Hanging on the handle 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 important person of all, so I'm
standing here in front of the table.  the supervisor is sitting
extremely comfortably with his legs crossed and his arm hanging over the
backrest here like some layabout.  And now it really 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 he shouts out."  Miss
BŸrstner, laughing as she listened to him, laid her forefinger 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.!".  It was not as
loud as he had threatened, but nonetheless, once he had suddenly called
it out, the cry seemed gradually to spread itself all round the room.

        There was a series of loud, curt and regular knocks at the door of
the adjoining room.  Miss BŸrstner went pale and laid her hand on her
heart.  K. was especially startled, as for a moment he had been quite
unable to think of anything other than the events of that morning and
the girl for whom he was performing them.  He had hardly pulled himself
together when he jumped over to Miss BŸrstner and took her hand.  "Don't
be afraid," he whispered, "I'll put everything right.  But who can it
be?  It's only the living room next door, nobody sleeps in there."  "Yes
they do," whispered Miss BŸrstner into K.'s ear, "a nephew of Mrs.
Grubach's, an captain in the army, has been sleeping there since
yesterday.  There's no other room free.  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, go away," she said, hurriedly
sitting back up, "get out of here, go, what is 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've calmed down a bit.  Come
over into the other corner of the room, he won't be able to hear us
there."  She let him lead her there. "Don't forget," he said, "although
this might be unpleasant for you you're not in 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 the captain is her nephew,
but she believes everything I say without question.  What's more, she
has borrowed a large sum of money from me and that makes her dependent
on me.  I will confirm whatever you say to explain our being here
together, however inappropriate it might be, and I guarantee to make
sure that Mrs. Grubach will not only say she believes the explanation in
public but will believe it truly and sincerely.  You will have no need
to consider me in any way.  If you wish to let it be known that I have
attacked you then Mrs. Grubach will be informed of such and she will
believe it without even losing her trust in me, that's how much respect
she has for me."  Miss BŸrstner looked at the floor in front of her,
quiet and a little sunk in on herself.  "Why would Mrs. Grubach not
believe that I've attacked you?" added K. He looked at her hair in front
of him, parted, bunched down, reddish and firmly held in place.  He
thought she would look up at him, but without changing her manner she
said, "Forgive me, but it was the suddenness of the knocking that
startled me so much, not so much what the consequences of the captain
being here might be.  It was all so quiet after you'd shouted, and then
there was the knocking, that's was made me so shocked, and I was sitting
right by the door, the knocking was right next to me.  Thank you for
your suggestions, but I won't accept them.  I can 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 how insulting your
suggestions are and what they imply about me, although I certainly
acknowledge your good intentions.  But now, please go, leave me alone, I
need you to go now even more than I did earlier.  The couple of minutes
you asked for have grown into half an hour, more than half an hour now."
K. took hold of her hand, and then of her wrist, "You're not cross 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, lead him to the door.  He had fully
intended to leave.  But when he reached the door he came to a halt as if
he hadn't expected to find a door there, Miss BŸrstner made use of that
moment to get herself free, open the door, slip out into the hallway and
gently say to K. from there, "Now, come along, please.  Look," she
pointed to the captain's door, from under which there was a light
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 on the
mouth and then over her whole face like a thirsty animal lapping with
its tongue when it eventually finds water.  He finally kissed her on her
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 BŸrstner by her Christian
name, but did not know it.  She gave him a tired nod, offered him her
hand to kiss as she turned away as if she did not know what she was
doing, and went back into her room with her head bowed.  A short while
later, K. was lying in his bed. He very soon went to sleep, but before
he did he thought a little while about his behaviour, he was satisfied
with it but felt some surprise that he was not more satisfied; he was
seriously worried about Miss BŸrstner because of the captain.

Chapter Two
First Cross-examination

        K. was informed by telephone that there would be a small hearing
concerning his case the following Sunday. He was made aware that these
cross examinations would follow one another regularly, perhaps not every
week but quite frequently. On the one hand it was in everyone's interest
to bring proceedings quickly to their conclusion, but on the other hand
every aspect of the examinations had to be carried out thoroughly
without lasting too long because of the associated stress.  For these
reasons, it had been decided to hold a series of brief examinations
following on one after another.  Sunday had been chosen as the day for
the 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 wished
for 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
matter of course that he would have to appear without fail, there was
probably no need to point this out to him.  He would be given the number
of the building where he was to present himself, which was in a street
in a suburb 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
giving an answer; he had decided immediately to go there that Sunday, it
was certainly necessary, proceedings had begun and he had to face up to
it, and this first examination would probably also be the last.  He was
still standing in thought by the telephone when he heard the voice of
the deputy director behind him - he wanted to use the telephone but K.
stood in his way.  "Bad news?" asked the deputy director casually, not
in order to 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 deputy director picked up the receiver and, as he waited for his
connection, turned away from it and said to K.,  "One question, Mr. K.:
Would you like to give me the pleasure of joining me on my sailing boat
on Sunday morning?  There's quite a few people coming, you're bound to
know some of them.  One of them is Hasterer, the state attorney.  Would
you like to come along?  Do come along!"  K. tried to pay attention to
what the deputy director was saying.  It was of no small importance for
him, as this invitation from the deputy director, with whom he had never
got on very 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
second most important official seemed to value his friendship, or at
least his impartiality.  He was only speaking at the side of the
telephone receiver while he waited for his connection, but in giving
this invitation the deputy director was humbling himself.  But K. would
have to humiliate him a second time as a result, he said, "Thank you
very much, but I'm afraid I will have no time on Sunday, I have a
previous obligation."  "Pity," said the deputy director, and turned to
the telephone conversation that had just been connected.  It was not a
short conversation, but K., remained standing confused by the instrument
all the time it was going on.  It was only when the deputy director hung
up that he was shocked into awareness and said, in order to partially
excuse his standing there for no reason, "I've just received a telephone
call, there's somewhere I need to go, but they forgot to tell me what
time."  "Ask them then," said the deputy director.  "It's not that
important," said K., although in that 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 that Sunday, how it would be best to get
there for nine o'clock in the morning 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 out drinking until late in the night celebrating with some of the
regulars, and he had almost overslept.  He dressed hurriedly, without
the time to think 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.  Oddly enough, although he had little time to look around
him, he came across the three bank officials involved in his case,
Rabensteiner, Kullich and Kaminer.  The first two were travelling in a
tram that went across K.'s route, but Kaminer sat on the terrace of a
cafŽ and leant curiously over 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 that made K. want to go on foot, this was his
affair and the idea of any help from strangers, however slight, was
repulsive to him, he also wanted to avoid asking for anyone's help
because that would initiate them into the affair even if only slightly.
And after all, he had no wish at all to humiliate 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 all possible, even though he had
no appointment for this time.

        He had thought that he would recognise the building from a
distance by some kind of sign, without knowing exactly what the sign
would look like, or from some particular kind of activity outside the
entrance.  K. had been told that the building was in Juliusstrasse, but
when he stood at the street's entrance it consisted on each side of
almost nothing but monotonous, grey constructions, tall blocks of flats
occupied by poor people.  Now, on  a Sunday morning, most of the windows
were occupied, men in their shirtsleeves leant out smoking, or carefully
and gently held small children on the sills.  Other windows were piled
up with bedding, above which the dishevelled head of a woman would
briefly appear.  People called out to each other across the street, one
of the calls provoked a loud laugh about K. himself.  It was a long
street, and spaced evenly along it were small shops below street level,
selling various kinds of foodstuffs, which you reached by going down a
few steps.  Women went in and out of them or stood chatting on the
steps.  A fruitmonger, taking his goods up to the windows, was just as
inattentive as K. and nearly knocked him down with his cart.  Just then,
a gramophone, which in better parts of town would have been seen as worn
out, began to play some murderous tune.

        K. went further into the street, slowly, as if he had plenty of
time now, or as if the examining magistrate were looking at him from one
of the windows and therefore knew that K. had found his way there.  It
was shortly after nine.  The building was quite far down the street, it
covered so much area it was almost extraordinary, and the gateway in
particular was tall and long.  It was clearly intended for delivery
wagons belonging to the various warehouses all round the yard which were
now locked up and carried the names of companies some of which K. knew
from his work at the bank.  In contrast with his usual habits, he
remained standing a while at the entrance to the yard taking in all
these external details.  Near him, there was a bare-footed man sitting
on a crate and reading a newspaper.  There were two lads swinging on a
hand cart.  In front of a pump stood a weak, young girl in a bedjacket
who, as the water flowed into her can, looked at K.  There was a piece
of rope stretched between two windows in a corner of the yard, with some
washing hanging on it to dry.  A man stood below it calling out
instructions to direct the work being done.

        K. went over to the stairway to get to the room where the hearing
was to take place, but then stood still again as besides these steps he
could see three other stairway entrances, and there also seemed to be a
small passageway at the end of the yard leading into a second yard.  It
irritated him that he had not been given more precise directions to the
room, it meant they were either being especially neglectful with him or
especially indifferent, and he decided to make that clear to them very
loudly and very unambiguously.  In the end he decided to climb up the
stairs, his thoughts playing on something that he remembered the
policeman, Willem, saying to him; that the court is attracted by the
guilt, from which it followed that the courtroom must be on the stairway
that K. selected by chance.

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

        On the first floor, his search began for real.  He still felt
unable to ask for the investigating committee, and so he invented a
joiner called Lanz - that name occurred to him because the captain, Mrs.
Grubach's nephew, was called Lanz - so that he could ask at every flat
whether Lanz the joiner lived there and thus obtain a chance to look
into the rooms.  It turned out, though, that that was mostly possible
without further ado, as almost all the doors were left open and the
children ran in and out.  Most of them were small, one-windowed rooms
where they also did the cooking.  Many women held babies in one arm and
worked at the stove with the other.   Half grown girls, who seemed to be
dressed in just their pinafores worked hardest running to and fro.  In
every room, the beds were still in use by people who were ill, or still
asleep, or people stretched out on them in their clothes.  K. knocked at
the flats where the doors were closed and asked whether Lanz the joiner
lived there.   It was usually a woman who opened the door, heard the
enquiry and turned to somebody in the room who would raise himself from
the bed.  "The gentleman'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 be found there, and so his task was at an end.  There were many
who thought it must be very important for K. to find Lanz the joiner and
thought long about it, naming a joiner who was not called Lanz or giving
a name that had some vague similarity with Lanz, or they asked
neighbours or accompanied K. to a door a long way away where they
thought someone of that sort might live in the back part of the building
or where someone would 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 round from floor to floor in this way.  He regretted his
initial plan, which had 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, young worker 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, he went back again and knocked at the
first door on the fifth floor.  The first thing he saw in the small room
was a large clock on the wall which already showed ten o'clock.  "Is
there a joiner called Lanz who lives here?" he asked.  "Pardon?" said a
young woman with black, shining eyes who 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
windowed room was filled with the most diverse crowd of people - nobody
paid any attention to the person who had just entered.  Close under its
ceiling it was surrounded by a gallery which was also fully occupied and
where the people could only stand bent down with their heads and their
backs touching the ceiling.  K., who found the air too stuffy, stepped
out again and said to the young woman, who had probably misunderstood
what he 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
followed her if the woman had not gone up to him, taken hold of the door
handle and said, "I'll have to close the door after you, no-one else
will be allowed in."  "Very sensible," said K., "but it's too full
already."  But then he went back in anyway.  He passed through between
two men who were talking beside the door - one of them held both hands
far out in front of himself making the movements of counting out money,
the other looked him closely 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 by him, and it turned out that there was -
surprisingly in a densely packed crowd of people moving to and fro - a
narrow passage which may have been the division between two factions;
this idea was reinforced by the fact that in the first few rows to the
left and the right of him there was hardly any face looking in his
direction, he saw nothing but the backs of people directing their speech
and their movements only towards members of their own side.  Most of
them were dressed in black, in old, long, formal frock coats that hung
down loosely around them.  These clothes were the only thing that
puzzled  K., as he would otherwise have taken the whole assembly for a
local political meeting.

        At the other end of the hall where K. had been led there was a
little table set at an angle on a very low podium which was as
overcrowded as everywhere else, and behind the table, near the edge of
the podium, sat a small, fat, wheezing man who was talking with someone
behind him.  This second man was standing with his legs crossed and his
elbows on the backrest of the chair, provoking much laughter.  From time
to time he threw his arm in the air as if doing a caricature of someone.
The youth who was leading K. had some difficulty in reporting to the
man.  He had already tried twice to tell him something, standing on tip-
toe, but without getting the man's attention as he sat there above him.
It was only when one of the people up on the podium drew his attention
to the youth that the man turned to him and leant down to hear what it
was he quietly 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 had the man spoken than a general muttering arose all over the
right hand side of the hall.  "You should have been here one hour and
five minutes ago," the man now repeated, raising his voice this time,
and quickly looked round the hall beneath him.  The muttering also
became immediately louder and, as the man said nothing more, died away
only gradually.  Now the hall was much quieter than when K. had entered.
Only the people up in the gallery had not stopped passing remarks.  As
far as could be distinguished, up in the half-darkness, dust and haze,
they seemed to be less well dressed than those below.  Many of them had
brought pillows that they had put between their heads and the ceiling so
that they would not hurt themselves pressed against it.

        K. had decided he would do more watching than talking, so he did
not defend himself for supposedly having come late, and simply said,
"Well maybe 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 on your side, thought K., and was bothered only by the quiet from
the left hand side which was directly behind him and from which there
was applause from only a few individuals.  He wondered what he could say
to get 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 hear your case" - there was once more a muttering, but this time it
was misleading as the man waved the people's objections aside with his
hand and continued - "I will, however, as an exception, continue with it
today.  But you should never arrive late like this again.  And now, step
forward!"  Someone jumped down from the podium so that there would be a
place free for K., and K. stepped up onto it.  He stood pressed closely
against the table, the press of the crowd behind him was so great that
he had to press back against it if he did not want to push the judge's
desk down off the podium and perhaps the judge along with it.

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

        The left hand side of the hall was still quiet, though, the people
stood there in rows with their faces looking towards the podium
listening to what was being said there, they observed the noise from the
other side of the hall with the same quietness and even allowed some
individuals from their own ranks, here and there, to go forward into the
other faction.  The people in the left faction were not only fewer in
number than the right but probably were no more important than them,
although their 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 as them.

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

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

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

        The people in the front row looked up at him, showing such tension
on their faces that he looked back down at them for some time.  Every
one of them was an old man, some of them with white beards.  Could they
perhaps be the crucial group who could turn the whole assembly one way
or the other?  They had sunk into a state of  motionlessness while K.
gave his oration, and it had not been possible to raise them from this
passivity even when the judge was being humiliated.  "What has happened
to me," continued K., with less of the vigour he had had earlier, he
continually scanned the faces in the first row, and this gave his
address a somewhat nervous and distracted character, "what has happened
to me is not just an isolated case.  If it were it would not be of much
importance as it's not of much importance to me, but it is a symptom of
proceedings which are carried out against many.  It's on behalf of them
that I stand here now, not for myself alone."

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

        "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
examining judge 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: ten days ago I was placed under arrest, the arrest itself is
something I laugh about but that's beside the point.  They came for me
in the morning when I was still in bed.  Maybe the order had been given
to arrest some house painter - that seems possible after what the judge
has said - 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
have taken better precautions if I had been a dangerous robber.  And
these policemen were unprincipled riff-raff, they talked at me till I
was sick of it, they wanted bribes, they wanted to trick me into giving
them my clothes, they wanted money, supposedly so that they could bring
me my breakfast after they had blatantly eaten my own breakfast in front
of my eyes.  And even that was not enough.  I was led in front of the
supervisor in another room.  This was the room of a lady who I have a
lot of respect for, and I was forced to look on while the supervisor and
the policemen made quite a mess of this room because of me, although not
through any fault of mine.  It was not easy to stay calm, but I managed
to do so and was completely calm when I asked the supervisor why it was
that I was under arrest.  If he were here he would have to confirm what
I say.  I can see him now, sitting on the chair belonging to that lady I
mentioned - a picture of dull-witted arrogance.  What do you think he
answered?  What he told me, gentlemen, was basically nothing at all;
perhaps he really did know nothing, he had placed me under arrest and
was satisfied.  In fact he had done more than that and brought three
junior employees from the bank where I work into the lady's room; they
had made themselves busy interfering with some photographs that belonged
to the lady and causing a mess.  There was, of course, another reason
for bringing these employees; they, just like my landlady and her maid,
were expected to spread the news of my arrest and damage my public
reputation and in particular to remove me from my position at the bank.
Well they didn't succeed in any of that, not in the slightest, even my
landlady, who is quite a simple person - and I will give you here her
name in full respect, her name is Mrs. Grubach - even Mrs. Grubach was
understanding enough to see that an arrest like this has no more
significance than an attack carried out on the street by some youths who
are not kept under proper control.  I repeat, this whole affair has
caused me nothing but unpleasantness and temporary irritation, but could
it not also have had some far worse consequences?"

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

        Whether it was embarrassment or impatience, the judge rocked
backwards and forwards on his seat.  The man behind him, whom he had
been talking with earlier, leant forward again, either to give him a few
general words of encouragement or some specific piece of advice.  Below
them in the hall the people talked to each other quietly but animatedly.
The two factions  had earlier seemed to hold views strongly opposed to
each other but 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 extremely oppressive, those who were standing furthest away could
hardly even be seen through it.  It must have been especially
troublesome for those visitors who were in the gallery, as they were
forced to quietly ask the participants in the assembly what exactly was
happening, albeit with timid glances at the judge.  The replies they
received were just as quiet, and given behind the protection of a raised
hand.

        "I have nearly finished what I have to say," said K., and as there
was no bell available he struck the desk with his fist in a way that
startled the judge and his advisor and made them look up from each
other.  "Non of this concerns me, and I am therefore able to make a calm
assessment of it, and, assuming that this so-called court is of any real
importance, it will be very much to your advantage to listen to what I
have to say.  If you want to discuss what I say, please don't bother to
write it down until later on, I don't have any time to waste and I'll
soon be leaving."

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

        K was pleased at the tension among all the people there as they
listened to him, a rustling rose from the silence which was more
invigorating than the most ecstatic applause could have been.  "There is
no doubt," he said quietly, "that there is some enormous organisation
determining what is said by this court.  In my case this includes my
arrest and the examination taking place here today, an organisation that
employs policemen who can be bribed, oafish supervisors and judges of
whom nothing better can be said than that they are not as arrogant as
some others.  This organisation even maintains a high-level judiciary
along with its train of countless servants, scribes, policemen and all
the other assistance that  it needs, perhaps even executioners and
torturers - I'm not afraid of using those words. And what, gentlemen, is
the purpose of this enormous organisation?  Its purpose is to arrest
innocent people and wage pointless prosecutions against them which, as
in my case, lead to no result.  How are we to avoid those in office
becoming deeply corrupt when everything is devoid of meaning?  That is
impossible, not even the highest judge would be able to achieve that for
himself.  That is why policemen try to steal the clothes off the back of
those they arrest, that is why supervisors break into the homes of
people they do not know, that is why innocent people are humiliated in
front of crowds rather than being given a proper trial.  The policemen
only talked about the warehouses where they put the property of those
they arrest, I would like to see these warehouses where the hard won
possessions of people under arrest is left to decay, if, that is, it's
not stolen by the thieving hands of the warehouse workers."

        K. was interrupted by a screeching from the far end of the hall,
he shaded his eyes to see that far, as the dull light of day made the
smoke whitish and hard to see through.  It was the washerwoman whom K.
had recognised 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 only see that a man had pulled her into a corner by the door and
was pressing himself 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 small circle had formed around the two of them, the visitors near him
in the gallery seemed delighted that the serious tone K. had introduced
into the gathering had been disturbed in this way.   K.'s first thought
was to run over there, and he also thought that everyone would want to
bring things back into order there or at least to make the pair leave
the room, but the first row of people in from of him stayed were they
were, no-one moved and no-one let K. through.  On the contrary, they
stood in his way, old men held out their arms in front of him and a hand
from somewhere - he did not have the time to turn round - took hold of
his collar.  K., by this time, had forgotten about the pair, it seemed
to him that his freedom was being limited as if his arrest was being
taken seriously, and, without any thought for what he was doing, he
jumped down from the podium.  Now he stood face to face with the crowd.
Had he judged the people properly?  Had he put too much faith in the
effect of his speech?  Had they been putting up a pretence all the time
he had been speaking, and now that he come 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 on drunken men, their long beards were thin and stiff, if they took
hold of them it was more like they were making their hands into claws,
not as if they were taking hold of their own beards.  But underneath
those beards - and this was the real discovery made by K. - there were
badges of various sizes and colours shining on the collars of their
coats.  As far as he could see, every one of them was wearing one of
these badges.  All of them belonged to the same group, even though they
seemed to be divided to the right and the left of him, and when he
suddenly turned round he saw the same badge on the collar of the
examining judge who calmly looked down at him with his hands in his lap.
"So," called out K, throwing his arms in the air as if this sudden
realisation needed more room, "all of you are working for this
organisation, I see now that you are all the very bunch of cheats and
liars I've just been speaking about, you've all pressed yourselves in
here in order to listen in and snoop on me, you gave the impression of
having formed into factions, one of you even applauded me to test me
out, and you wanted to learn how to trap an innocent man!   Well, I hope
you haven't come here for nothing, I hope you've either had some fun
from someone who expected you to defend his innocence or else - let go
of me or I'll hit you," shouted K. to a quivery old man who had pressed
himself especially close to him - "or else that you've actually learned
something.  And so I wish you good luck in your trade."  He briskly took
his hat from where it lay on the edge of the table and, surrounded by a
silence caused perhaps by the completeness of their surprise, pushed his
way to the exit.  However, the examining judge seems to have moved even
more quickly than K., as he was waiting for him at the doorway.  "One
moment," he said.  K. stood where he was, but looked at the door with
his hand already on its handle rather than at the judge.  "I merely
wanted to draw your attention, " said the judge, "to something you seem
not yet to be aware of: today, you have robbed yourself of the
advantages that a hearing of this sort always gives to someone who is
under arrest."  K. laughed towards the door.  "You bunch of louts," he
called, "you can keep all your hearings as a present from me," then
opened the door and hurried down the steps.  Behind him, the noise of
the assembly rose as it became lively once more and probably began to
discuss these events as if making a scientific study of them.

Chapter Three
In the empty Courtroom - The Student - The Offices

        Every day over the following week, K. expected another summons to
arrive, he could not believe that his rejection of any more hearings had
been taken literally, and when the expected summons really had not come
by Saturday evening he took it to mean that he was expected, without
being 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 up
the steps and through the corridors; some of the people remembered him
and greeted him from their doorways, but he no longer needed to ask
anyone the way and soon arrived at the right door.  It was opened as
soon as he knocked and, paying no attention to the woman he had seen
last time who was standing at the doorway, he was about to go straight
into the 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 the
woman persuaded him by opening the door to the next room.  It was indeed
empty, and looked even more dismal empty than it had the previous
Sunday.  On the podium stood the table exactly as it had been before
with a 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 come for nothing.  "No," said the woman as she re-closed the door,
"that's not allowed.  Those books belong to the examining judge."  "I
see," said K., and nodded, "those books must be law books, and that's
how this court does things, not only to try people who are innocent but
even to try them without letting them know what's going on."  "I expect
you're right," 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 to the 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 held nothing but a wash-tub, had been fitted
out as a living room.  The woman saw how surprised he was and said,
"Yes, we're allowed to live here as we 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 much the room that surprises me," said
K., looking at her crossly, "it's your being married that shocks me."
"Are you thinking about what happened last time the court was in
session, when I disturbed what you were saying?" asked the woman.  "Of
course," said K., "it's in the past now and 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't any disadvantage for you to
have your speech interrupted.  The way they talked 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 I know who'd hold it against
me," said the woman. "Him, who put his arms around me, he's been chasing
after me for a long time.  I might not be very attractive for most
people, but I am for him.  I've got no protection from him, even my
husband has had to get used to it; if he wants to keep his job he's got
to put up with it as that man's a student and he'll almost certainly be
very powerful later on.  He's always after me, he'd only just left when
you arrived."  "That fits in with everything else," said K., "I'm not
surprised."  "Do you want to make things a bit better here?" the woman
asked slowly, watching him as if she were saying something that could be
as dangerous for K. as for herself.  "That's what I thought when I heard
you speak, I really liked what you said.  Mind you, I only heard part of
it, I missed the beginning of it and at the end 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 you really will be able to make
things better?"  K. smiled and twisted his hand round a little in her
soft hands.  "It's really not my job to make things better here, as you
put it," he said, "and if you said that to the examining judge he would
laugh at you or punish you for it.  I really would 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 be made better.  But
because I'm told that I have been arrested - and I am under arrest - it
forces me to take some action, and to do so for my own sake.  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 for the 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 woman cried, and
pulled K. along behind her as she rushed to them.  The books were old
and well worn, the cover of one of them had nearly broken through in its
middle, and it was held together with a few threads.  "Everything is so
dirty here," said K., shaking his head, and before he could pick the
books up the woman wiped some of the dust off with her apron.  K. took
hold of the book that lay on top and threw it open, an indecent picture
appeared.  A man and a woman sat naked on a sofa, the base intent of
whoever drew it was easy to see but he had been so grossly lacking in
skill that all that anyone could really make out were the man and the
woman who dominated the picture with their bodies, sitting in overly
upright postures that created a false perspective and made it difficult
for them to approach each other.  K. didn't thumb through that book any
more, but just threw open the next one at its title page, it was a novel
with the title, What Grete Suffered from her Husband, Hans.  "So this is
the sort of law book they study here," said K., "this is the sort of
person sitting in judgement over me."  "I can help you," said the woman,
"would you like me to?"  "Could you really do that without placing
yourself in danger?  You did say earlier on that your husband is wholly
dependent on his superiors."  "I still want to help 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 I want to fear it.
Come over here."  She pointed to the podium and invited him to sit down
on the step with her.  "You've got lovely dark eyes," she said after
they had sat down, looking up into K.'s face, "people say I've got nice
eyes too, but yours are much nicer.  It was the first thing I noticed
when you first came here.  That's even why I came in here, into the
assembly room, afterwards, I'd never normally do that, I'm not really
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 else around
here, she's had enough of the court officials, which is understandable I
suppose, and so she approaches any stranger and makes compliments about
his eyes.  With that, K. stood up in silence as if he had spoken his
thoughts out loud and thus explained his action to the woman.  "I don't
think you can be of any assistance to me," he said, "to be of any real
assistance you would need to be in contact with high officials.  But I'm
sure you only know the lower employees, and there are crowds of them
milling about here.  I'm sure you're very familiar with them 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 at all on the
final outcome of the trial.  You, on the other hand, would lose some of
your friends as a result, and I have no wish of that.  Carry on with
these people in the same way as you have been, as it does seem to me to
be something you cannot do without.  I have no regrets in saying this
as, in return for your compliment to me, I also find you rather
attractive, 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 I
have to combat, and you're very comfortable among them, you're even in
love with the student, or if you don't love him you do at least prefer
him to your husband.  It's easy to see that from what you've been
saying."  "No!" she shouted, remained sitting where she was and grasped
K.'s hand, which he failed to pull away fast enough.  "You can't go away
now, you can't go away when you've misjudged me like that!  Are you
really capable of going away now?  Am I really so worthless that you
won't even do me the favour of staying a little bit longer?"  "You
misunderstand me," said K., sitting back down, "if it's really important
to you for me to stay here then I'll be glad to do so, I have plenty of
time, I came here thinking there would be a trial taking place.  All I
meant with what I said just now was to ask you not to do anything on my
behalf in the proceedings against me.  But even that is nothing for you
to worry about when you consider that there's nothing hanging on the
outcome of this trial, and that, whatever the verdict, I will just laugh
at 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 court officials will be too lazy, too forgetful, or even to fearful
ever to continue with these proceedings and that they will soon be
abandoned if they haven't been abandoned already.  It's even possible
that they will pretend to be carrying on with the trial in the hope of
receiving a large bribe, although I can tell you now that that will be
quite in vain as I pay bribes to no-one.  Perhaps one favour you could
do me would be to tell the examining judge, or anyone else who likes to
spread important news, that I will never be induced to pay any sort of
bribe through any stratagem of theirs - and I'm sure they have many
stratagems at their disposal.  There is no prospect of that, you can
tell them that quite openly.  And what's more, I expect they have
already noticed themselves, or even if they haven't, this affair is
really not so important to me as they think.  Those gentlemen would only
save some work for themselves, or at least some unpleasantness for me,
which, however, I am glad to endure if I know that each piece of
unpleasantness for me is a blow against them.  And I will make quite
sure it is a blow against them.  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't know he's only a minor official, but if
you say so it must be true.  Mind you, I still think the report he gives
to his superiors must have some influence.  And he writes so many
reports.  You say these officials are lazy, but they're certainly not
all lazy, especially this examining judge, he writes ever such a lot.
Last Sunday, for instance, that session went on till the evening.
Everyone had gone, but the examining judge, he stayed in the hall, I had
to bring him a lamp in, all I had was a little kitchen lamp but he was
very satisfied with it and started to write straight away.  Meantime my
husband arrived, he always has the day off on Sundays, we got the
furniture back in and got our room sorted out and then a few of the
neighbours came, we sat and talked for a bit by a candle, in short, we
forgot all about the examining judge and went to bed.  All of a sudden
in the night, it must have been quite late in the night, I wakes up,
next to the bed, there's the examining judge shading the lamp with his
hand so that there's no light from it falls on my husband, he didn't
need to be as careful as that, the way my husband sleeps the light
wouldn't have woken him up anyway.  I was quite shocked and nearly
screamed, but the judge was very friendly, warned me I should be
careful, he whispered to me he's been writing all this time, and now
he's brought me the lamp back, and he'll never forget how I looked when
he found me there asleep.  What I mean, with all this, I just wanted to
tell you how the examining judge really does write lots of reports,
especially about you as questioning you was definitely one of the main
things on the agenda that Sunday.   If he writes reports as long as that
they must be of some importance.   And besides all that, you can see
from what 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
influence on him.  And I've got other proof I mean a lot to him, too.
Yesterday, he sent 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 was because I clear up in the courtroom but that's only a
pretence, that job's no more than what I'm supposed to do, it's what my
husband gets paid for.  Nice stockings, they are, look," - she stretched
out her leg, drew her skirt up to her knee and looked, herself, at the
stocking - "they are nice stockings, but they're too good for me,
really."