THE TRIAL
CHAPTER I
Arrest
Conversation with Mrs. Grubach
Then Miss
Bürstner
Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K., he knew he
had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested. Every day
at eight in the morning he was brought his breakfast by Mrs.
Grubach’s cook — Mrs. Grubach was his landlady —
but today she didn’t come. That had never happened before. K.
waited a little while, looked from his pillow at the old woman who
lived opposite and who was watching him with an inquisitiveness
quite unusual for her, and finally, both hungry and disconcerted,
rang the bell. There was immediately a knock at the door and a man
entered. He had never seen the man in this house before. He was
slim but firmly built, his clothes were black and close-fitting,
with many folds and pockets, buckles and buttons and a belt, all of
which gave the impression of being very practical but without
making it very clear what they were actually for. “Who are
you?” asked K., sitting half upright in his bed. The man,
however, ignored the question as if his arrival simply had to be
accepted, and merely replied, “You rang?” “Anna
should have brought me my breakfast,” said K. He tried to
work out who the man actually was, first in silence, just through
observation and by thinking about it, but the man didn’t stay
still to be looked at for very long. Instead he went over to the
door, opened it slightly, and said to someone who was clearly
standing immediately behind it, “He wants Anna to bring him
his breakfast.” There was a little laughter in the
neighbouring room, it was not clear from the sound of it whether
there were several people laughing. The strange man could not have
learned anything from it that he hadn’t known already, but
now he said to K., as if making his report “It is not
possible.” “It would be the first time that’s
happened,” said K., as he jumped out of bed and quickly
pulled on his trousers. “I want to see who that is in the
next room, and why it is that Mrs. Grubach has let me be disturbed
in this way.” It immediately occurred to him that he
needn’t have said this out loud, and that he must to some
extent have acknowledged their authority by doing so, but that
didn’t seem important to him at the time. That, at least, is
how the stranger took it, as he said, “Don’t you think
you’d better stay where you are?” “I want neither
to stay here nor to be spoken to by you until you’ve
introduced yourself.” “I meant it for your own
good,” said the stranger and opened the door, this time
without being asked. The next room, which K. entered more slowly
than he had intended, looked at first glance exactly the same as it
had the previous evening. It was Mrs. Grubach’s living room,
over-filled with furniture, tablecloths, porcelain and photographs.
Perhaps there was a little more space in there than usual today,
but if so it was not immediately obvious, especially as the main
difference was the presence of a man sitting by the open window
with a book from which he now looked up. “You should have
stayed in your room! Didn’t Franz tell you?” “And
what is it you want, then?” said K., looking back and forth
between this new acquaintance and the one named Franz, who had
remained in the doorway. Through the open window he noticed the old
woman again, who had come close to the window opposite so that she
could continue to see everything. She was showing an
inquisitiveness that really made it seem like she was going senile.
“I want to see Mrs. Grubach ... ,” said K., making a
movement as if tearing himself away from the two men — even
though they were standing well away from him — and wanted to
go. “No,” said the man at the window, who threw his
book down on a coffee table and stood up. “You can’t go
away when you’re under arrest.” “That’s how
it seems,” said K. “And why am I under arrest?”
he then asked. “That’s something we’re not
allowed to tell you. Go into your room and wait there. Proceedings
are underway and you’ll learn about everything all in good
time. It’s not really part of my job to be friendly towards
you like this, but I hope no-one, apart from Franz, will hear about
it, and he’s been more friendly towards you than he should
have been, under the rules, himself. If you carry on having as much
good luck as you have been with your arresting officers then you
can reckon on things going well with you.” K. wanted to sit
down, but then he saw that, apart from the chair by the window,
there was nowhere anywhere in the room where he could sit.
“You’ll get the chance to see for yourself how true all
this is,” said Franz and both men then walked up to K. They
were significantly bigger than him, especially the second man, who
frequently slapped him on the shoulder. The two of them felt
K.’s nightshirt, and said he would now have to wear one that
was of much lower quality, but that they would keep the nightshirt
along with his other underclothes and return them to him if his
case turned out well. “It’s better for you if you give
us the things than if you leave them in the storeroom,” they
said. “Things have a tendency to go missing in the storeroom,
and after a certain amount of time they sell things off, whether
the case involved has come to an end or not. And cases like this
can last a long time, especially the ones that have been coming up
lately. They’d give you the money they got for them, but it
wouldn’t be very much as it’s not what they’re
offered for them when they sell them that counts, it’s how
much they get slipped on the side, and things like that lose their
value anyway when they get passed on from hand to hand, year after
year.” K. paid hardly any attention to what they were saying,
he did not place much value on what he may have still possessed or
on who decided what happened to them. It was much more important to
him to get a clear understanding of his position, but he could not
think clearly while these people were here, the second
policeman’s belly — and they could only be policemen
— looked friendly enough, sticking out towards him, but when
K. looked up and saw his dry, boney face it did not seem to fit
with the body. His strong nose twisted to one side as if ignoring
K. and sharing an understanding with the other policeman. What sort
of people were these? What were they talking about? What office did
they belong to? K. was living in a free country, after all,
everywhere was at peace, all laws were decent and were upheld, who
was it who dared accost him in his own home? He was always inclined
to take life as lightly as he could, to cross bridges when he came
to them, pay no heed for the future, even when everything seemed
under threat. But here that did not seem the right thing to do. He
could have taken it all as a joke, a big joke set up by his
colleagues at the bank for some unknown reason, or also perhaps
because today was his thirtieth birthday, it was all possible of
course, maybe all he had to do was laugh in the policemen’s
face in some way and they would laugh with him, maybe they were
tradesmen from the corner of the street, they looked like they
might be — but he was nonetheless determined, ever since he
first caught sight of the one called Franz, not to lose any slight
advantage he might have had over these people. There was a very
slight risk that people would later say he couldn’t
understand a joke, but — although he wasn’t normally in
the habit of learning from experience — he might also have
had a few unimportant occasions in mind when, unlike his more
cautious friends, he had acted with no thought at all for what
might follow and had been made to suffer for it. He didn’t
want that to happen again, not this time at least; if they were
play-acting he would act along with them.
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 café over the road.”
Without giving any answer to this offer, K. stood still for some
time. Perhaps, if he opened the door of the next room or even the
front door, the two of them would not dare to stand in his way,
perhaps that 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 café. 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 Bürstner’.
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 Bürstner 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 hand 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 Bürstner’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 to 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 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 Bürstner
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 Bürstner’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
Bürstner 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 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 Bürstner, 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner,
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 Bürstner
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 Bürstner 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
Bürstner 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner.
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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner.” It sounded like he
was pleading with her, not calling to her. “Is there someone
there?” asked Miss Bürstner, looking round with her eyes wide
open. “It’s me,” said K. and came out. “Oh,
Mr. K.!” said Miss Bürstner with a smile. “Good
Evening,” and offered him her hand. “I wanted to have a
word with you, if you would allow me?” “Now?”
asked Miss Bürstner, “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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner.
“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
Bürstner, 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
Bürstner. “No,” said K. “Well then,” said
Miss Bürstner, “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 Bürstner,
“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 Bürstner, 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 Bürstner,
“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 Bürstner,
“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
Bürstner. “That’s exactly the problem,” said K.,
“I don’t know that myself.” “So you have
been making fun of me, then,” said Miss Bürstner exceedingly
disappointed, “you really ought not 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
Bürstner, 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner’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 Bürstner. “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
Bürstner. “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 Bürstner. “Of course you
can’t!” “In that case I can’t show
you,” said K., quite upset, as if Miss Bürstner 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 Bürstner, 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 Bürstner,
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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner
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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner 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 Bürstner because of the captain.