CONVERSATION WITH FRAU GRUBACH
THEN FRÄULEIN BÜRSTNER

That spring K. generally spent his evenings as follows: after work, if there was still time—he usually stayed at the office until nine—he would take a short walk, alone or with acquaintances, then go to a tavern, where he would sit with a group of regulars, mostly older men, until eleven o’clock. But there were also exceptions to this routine; for example, when K. was invited by the bank president, who valued his diligence and reliability highly, for a drive in his car or for supper at his villa. In addition K. paid a weekly visit to a young woman named Elsa, who worked at night and late into the morning as a waitress in a wine house, and by day received visitors only in bed.

But on this particular evening—the day had passed quickly, filled with hard work and a number of friendly and deferential birthday greetings—K. wanted to go straight home. He had thought about it during all the small breaks throughout the workday: without knowing exactly how, it seemed to him as if the morning’s events had thrown the whole of Frau Grubach’s boardinghouse into disarray, and that he was the one needed to restore order. Once that order had been restored, all trace of what had happened would be wiped away, and the old routine would resume. There was nothing in particular to fear from the three clerks; they had faded back into the larger realm of the bank’s bureaucracy without any noticeable change. K. had called them to his office several times, both individually and as a group, for no other purpose than to observe them; he had always been able to dismiss them totally satisfied.

When, at nine-thirty that evening, he arrived at the building where he lived, he met a young fellow standing spread-legged at the entrance, smoking a pipe. “Who are you,” K. asked straightaway and brought his face close to that of the fellow; the semidarkness of the entranceway made it hard to see. “I’m the caretaker’s son, sir,” the fellow answered, removing the pipe from his mouth and stepping aside. “The caretaker’s son?” K. asked, tapping the floor impatiently with his cane. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir? Shall I get my father?” “No, no,” said K. with a note of forgiveness, as if the fellow had done something truly wrong, but he was willing to forgive him. “That’s all right,” he said, and passed on; but before he went up the stairs, he turned around once more.

He could have gone straight to his room, but since he wanted to speak with Frau Grubach, he knocked first at her door. She sat darning a stocking at a table piled with other old stockings. K. excused himself absentmindedly for calling so late, but Frau Grubach was very friendly and would hear of no apology: he could visit her anytime, he was her best and dearest boarder, as he well knew. K. looked around the room: it had been fully restored to its former state; the breakfast dishes that had stood on the table by the window that morning had been removed as well. A woman’s hand indeed works quiet wonders, he thought; he might have smashed the dishes on the spot, but he certainly couldn’t have carried them out. He looked at Frau Grubach with a touch of gratitude. “Why are you working so late?” he asked. Now they were both sitting at the table, and from time to time K. buried his hand in the stockings. “There’s a lot of work to do,” she said, “during the day I belong to my boarders, evenings are the only time I have to put my own affairs in order.” “I probably caused you a lot of extra work today.” “How is that?” she asked, becoming more animated, her work resting in her lap. “I mean the men who were here this morning.” “Oh, that,” she said, returning to her state of calm, “that was no particular work.” K. watched in silence as she again took up the stocking she was darning. “She seems surprised I’m talking about it,” he thought, “she doesn’t seem to think I should. All the more reason to do so. The only person I can discuss it with is an old woman.” “Oh, it surely caused some work,” he continued, “but it won’t happen again.” “No, it can’t happen again,” she said reassuringly and smiled at K. in an almost melancholy way. “Do you really think so?” asked K. “Yes,” she said softly, “but above all you mustn’t take it too seriously. All sorts of things go on in this world! Since you’re talking so openly with me, Herr K., I’ll confess that I listened a little behind the door, and the guards told me a few things too. It involves your happiness after all, and I really take that to heart, more than I should perhaps, since after all, I’m only your landlady. Well anyway, I heard a few things, but I can’t say that it was anything very bad. No. You’re under arrest all right, but not the way a thief would be. If you’re arrested like a thief, that’s bad, but this arrest—. It seems like something scholarly, I’m sorry if that sounds stupid, but it seems like something scholarly that I don’t understand, but that I don’t need to understand either.”

“What you’ve said is not at all stupid, Frau Grubach, at any rate I agree with you in part, except that I judge the whole matter even more harshly; I don’t even regard it as something scholarly, but simply as nothing at all. I was caught by surprise, that’s all. If I’d just gotten up the moment I awoke, without letting myself be thrown by the fact that Anna didn’t appear, and come to you without worrying about anyone’s standing in my way; if I’d eaten breakfast in the kitchen for once, and had you bring my clothes from my room; in short, if I’d behaved sensibly, nothing more would have happened, everything else would have been nipped in the bud. At the bank, for instance, I’m always prepared, nothing like this could ever happen to me there; I have my own assistant, the office phone and my outside line stand before me on the desk, people are constantly coming in, clients and officers; but even more importantly, I’m always involved in my work, and so I have my wits about me; it would be a positive pleasure to confront a situation like this at my office. Well, it’s all over now and I really didn’t want to talk about it any more, I just wanted to hear your judgment on the matter, the judgment of a sensible woman, and I’m glad we agree about it. But now you must give me your hand; an agreement like this has to be confirmed by shaking hands.”

Will she shake my hand? The inspector didn’t, he thought, and he looked at the woman in a new way, scrutinizing her. She stood up because he had already done so; she was a little embarrassed because she hadn’t understood everything that K. was saying. In her embarrassment, however, she said something she didn’t mean to, something totally inappropriate: “Don’t take it so hard, Herr K.,” she said with tears in her voice, forgetting of course to shake his hand. “I didn’t think I was taking it hard,” K. said, suddenly weary, and realizing how worthless this woman’s assent was.

At the door he asked: “Is Fräulein Bürstner home?” “No,” said Frau Grubach, and as she delivered this dry piece of information she smiled with belated, shared understanding. “She’s at the theater. Did you want something from her? Do you want me to give her a message?” “Oh, I just wanted to say a few words to her.” “I’m sorry, I don’t know when she’ll be back; when she’s at the theater she usually comes home late.” “It doesn’t matter,” said K., and was already turning to the door to leave, his head bowed, “I just wanted to beg her pardon for using her room today.” “That’s not necessary, Herr K., you’re too considerate; she doesn’t know anything about it, she hasn’t been home since early this morning, and everything’s already been straightened up, see for yourself.” And she opened the door to Fräulein Bürstner’s room. “Thanks, I believe you,” said K., but nevertheless walked to the open door. The moon shone softly into the dark room. As far as one could tell, everything was really back in its place, and the blouse no longer hung from the window handle. The bolsters seemed strikingly plump on the bed, lying partially in moonlight. “She often returns home quite late,” K. said, and stared at Frau Grubach as if she were responsible. “Like all young people,” said Frau Grubach by way of pardon. “Of course, of course,” said K., “but it can go too far.” “It can indeed,” said Frau Grubach, “you’re certainly right there, Herr K. And perhaps it has in this case. I certainly have no wish to slander Fräulein Bürstner, she’s a fine and dear young woman, friendly, neat, punctual, and industrious, I appreciate all that, but it’s true she should show more pride, and more reserve. I’ve already seen her twice this month in other neighborhoods and each time with a different man. I find it very embarrassing; I swear to the dear Lord I’ve mentioned it to no one but you, Herr K., but there’s no getting around it, I’ll have to speak to the young woman about it. And that’s not the only thing I find suspicious about her.” “You’re totally off track,” said K., scarcely able to conceal his fury, “it seems you’ve misunderstood my remarks about the young woman; that’s not at all what I meant. In fact I warn you frankly not to say anything to her; you’re completely mistaken, I know the young woman quite well, and there’s no truth at all in what you’ve said. But perhaps I’m going too far; I don’t wish to stand in your way, say whatever you want to her. Good night.” “Herr K.,” said Frau Grubach imploringly and rushed after K. to his door, which he had already opened, “I really don’t want to speak to her; of course I’ll first keep an eye on her a while longer, you’re the only one I’ve told what I know. After all, it’s surely in the boarders’ best interest to try to run a clean house, and that’s all I’m trying to do.” “Clean!” K. cried through the crack in the door; “if you want to run a clean house, you’ll have to start by giving me notice.” Then he slammed the door shut, paying no attention to the timid knocks that followed.

However, since he didn’t feel like sleeping, he decided to stay up, and use the opportunity to find out when Fräulein Bürstner would arrive. It might even be possible, though hardly proper, to exchange a few words with her. As he lay in the window, rubbing his weary eyes, he even thought for a moment of punishing Frau Grubach by talking Fräulein Bürstner into joining him in giving notice. But he saw at once that this would be a gross overreaction and even suspected himself of wishing to change lodgings because of the morning’s events. Nothing would be more irrational, and above all more pointless and contemptible.

When he grew tired of looking out onto the empty street, he lay down on the divan, having opened the door to the hall slightly so that he could see anyone entering the lodgings directly from where he was lying. He lay on the divan smoking a cigar until around eleven. After that he couldn’t hold out there any longer, and went instead out into the hall for a little while, as if he could speed up Fräulein Bürstner’s arrival that way. He had no particular desire to see her, he couldn’t even quite remember what she looked like, but now he wanted to talk to her, and he was annoyed that by coming home so late she was bringing disturbance and disarray to this day’s end as well. And it was her fault he hadn’t eaten anything that evening, and that he’d skipped his intended visit to Elsa that day. Of course, he could make up for both now by going to the wine bar where Elsa worked. He’d do that later, after he had spoken with Fräulein Bürstner.

It was past eleven-thirty when he heard someone on the stairs. K., who had been pacing up and down the hall noisily, lost in thought, as if he were in his own room, fled behind his door. It was Fräulein Bürstner, returning. Shivering, she pulled a silk shawl around her slim shoulders as she locked the door. In another moment she would be entering her room, which K. certainly wouldn’t be permitted to invade this close to midnight; he had to speak to her now, but unfortunately he’d forgotten to switch on the light in his room, so that when he stepped out of the darkened room it would resemble an assault, and at the very least would give her a real shock. At a loss, and since there was no time to lose, he whispered through the crack in the door: “Fräulein Bürstner.” It sounded like a plea, not a call. “Is someone there?” asked Fräulein Bürstner and looked around wide-eyed. “It’s me,” said K., and stepped forward. “Oh, Herr K.!” said Fräulein Bürstner with a smile; “Good evening,” and she held out her hand. “I wanted to have a few words with you, may I do so now?” “Now?” asked Fräulein Bürstner; “does it have to be now? Isn’t that a little unusual?” “I’ve been waiting for you since nine o’clock.” “Well, I was at the theater, I had no idea you were waiting.” “What I wanted to talk to you about was occasioned by something that occurred just today.” “Well, I really don’t mind, except that I’m so tired I’m about to drop. Come into my room for a few minutes then. We certainly can’t talk here, we’ll wake everyone up, and that would be even more unpleasant for us than for the others. Wait here until I’ve lit the lamp in my room and then turn this light off.” K. did so but then remained waiting until Fräulein Bürstner softly invited him in again from her room. “Sit down,” she said, and pointed toward the ottoman, while she herself remained standing by the bedpost, in spite of her talk of fatigue; she didn’t even take off her small hat, which overflowed with flowers. “So what is it you want? I’m really curious.” She crossed her legs lightly. “Perhaps you’ll say,” K. began, “that the matter wasn’t so pressing that we had to talk about it now, but—” “I never listen to long preliminaries,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “That makes my task easier,” said K. “Your room was slightly disturbed today, and in a sense it was my fault; it was done by strangers and against my will, and yet, as I say, it was my fault; that’s what I wanted to ask your pardon for.” “My room?” asked Fräulein Brüstner, scrutinizing K. instead of the room. “That’s right,” said K. and now they both looked each other in the eyes for the first time, “exactly how it happened isn’t worth talking about.” “But that’s what’s really interesting,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “No,” said K. “Well,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “I don’t want to pry into secrets; if you claim it’s of no interest, I won’t bother to argue. I gladly grant the pardon you seek, particularly since I see no trace of any disorder.” She made a tour of the room, her hands flat and low on her hips. She stopped in front of the mat with the photographs. “Yes, look,” she cried out, “my photos have been all mixed up. That’s really annoying. Someone’s been in my room without permission.” K. nodded and silently cursed the clerk Kaminer, who could never control his stupid, senseless fidgeting. “I find it odd,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “to be forced to forbid you to do something your own conscience should forbid, namely, to enter my room when I’m away.” “But I explained to you, Fräulein,” said K., going over to the photographs as well, “I’m not the one who took liberties with your photographs; but since you don’t believe me, I must confess that the commission of inquiry brought along three bank clerks, and that one of them, whom I’ll have dismissed from the bank at the first opportunity, probably handled your photographs.” “Yes, there was a commission of inquiry here,” K. added, since the young woman was staring at him with a questioning look. “Because of you?” the young woman asked. “Yes,” K. replied. “No,” the young woman cried with a laugh. “Oh, yes,” said K. “Do you think I’m guiltless then?” “Well, guiltless …,” said the young woman, “I don’t want to make a hasty judgment that might possibly have serious consequences, and I don’t really know you, but it does seem that you’d have to be a serious criminal to have a commission of inquiry come down on you right from the start. But since you’re free—at least I gather from your calm state that you haven’t escaped from prison—you can’t have committed any serious crime.” “Yes,” said K., “but it may have been that the commission of inquiry realized I’m guiltless or at least not quite as guilty as they thought.” “Yes, that could be,” said Fräulein Bürstner, paying close attention. “You see,” said K., “you don’t have much experience in court matters.” “No, I don’t,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “and I’ve often regretted that, because I would like to know everything, and I’m fascinated with court matters. The court has a strange attraction, doesn’t it? But I’ll certainly be able to increase my knowledge in that area, because I start next month as a secretary in a law firm.” “That’s very good,” said K., “then you’ll be able to help me a little with my trial.” “Perhaps,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “why not? I enjoy using my knowledge.” “I’m serious too,” said K., “or at least half serious, like you. It’s too minor an affair to bring in a lawyer, but I could use someone to advise me.” “Yes, but if I’m to advise you, I have to know what it’s all about,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “That’s just the problem,” said K., “I don’t know myself.” “Then you’ve just been teasing me,” said Fräulein Bürstner, exceedingly disappointed, “you hardly needed to pick such a late hour to do it.” And she walked away from the photographs, where they had been standing together for so long. “But Fräulein,” K. said, “I’m not teasing. Why won’t you believe me? I’ve already told you everything I know. More than I know in fact, because it wasn’t a commission of inquiry. I just called it that because I don’t know any other name for it. There was no inquiry, I was simply arrested, but by a commission.” Fräulein Bürstner sat down on her ottoman and laughed again: “What was it like?” she asked. “Terrible,” said K., although now he wasn’t thinking about it at all, but was instead totally engrossed by the sight of Fräulein Bürstner, who was resting her head on one hand—her elbow propped on the cushion of the ottoman—while she slowly stroked her hip with the other. “That’s too general,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “What’s too general?” K. asked. Then he came to himself and asked: “Do you want me to show you how it was?” He wanted to move about and yet not leave. “I’m already tired,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “You got in so late,” said K. “And now it ends with reproaches; I deserve it, I should never have let you in. And it wasn’t really necessary, as it turned out.” “It was necessary, you’ll see that now,” said K. “May I move the nightstand away from your bed?” “What an idea!” said Fräulein Bürstner; “of course you can’t!” “Then I can’t show you,” K. said, all upset, as if this would cause him immense harm. “Well, if you need it for your performance, then go ahead and move the stand,” said Fräulein Bürstner, adding in a faint voice, after a pause: “I’m so tired that I’m letting you take more liberties than I should.” K. placed the little table in the middle of the room and sat down behind it. “You have to visualize the cast of characters, it’s very interesting. I’m the inspector, two guards are sitting over there on the chest, three young men are standing by the photographs. From the window handle, I’m just noting it in passing, hangs a white blouse. And now the action begins. Oh, I’m forgetting myself, the most important character: I’m standing here, in front of the table. The inspector is sitting totally at ease, his legs crossed, his arm hanging down like this from the back of the chair, an unbelievable boor. And now the action really begins. The inspector cries out as if he has to wake me up, practically shouting; unfortunately I’ll have to shout too, to show you how it was; all he shouts is my name, by the way.” Fräulein Bürstner, laughing as she listened, held her finger to her lips to keep K. from yelling, but it was too late, K. had entered too deeply into his role: “Josef K.!” he cried, drawing it out slowly, not, after all, as loudly as he had threatened, yet in such a way that the cry, having suddenly burst forth, seemed to spread only gradually throughout the room.

There was a knock at the door to the adjoining room, a brief, loud series of blows. Fräulein Bürstner turned pale and put her hand to her heart. The shock was even greater for K., since for a short while he could think of nothing but that morning’s events and the young woman he was reenacting them for. As soon as he came to himself he sprang to Fräulein Bürstner and took her hand. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ll straighten everything out. But who can it be? That’s just the living room next door, and no one’s sleeping there.” “Oh, yes,” Fräulein Bürstner whispered in K.’s ear, “Frau Grubach’s nephew has been staying there since yesterday, a captain. There’s no other room free at the moment. I’d forgotten about it too. You had to shout so! That makes me very unhappy.” “There’s no reason to be,” said K. and kissed her on the forehead as she sank back upon the cushion. “Go, go,” she said, and quickly straightened up again, “go on, go away. What do you want, he’s listening at the door, he can hear everything. You’re tormenting me!” “I’m not going,” said K., “until you’ve calmed down a bit. Come over to the other corner of the room; he can’t hear us there.” She let him lead her there. “Just remember,” he said, “this may be unpleasant for you, but you’re in no danger. You know how Frau Grubach, whose voice will count most, particularly since the captain is her nephew, practically worships me, and believes anything I say. She’s beholden to me in another way too, since she’s borrowed a large sum from me. I’ll accept any suggestion you offer as to why we were together, as long as it’s halfway reasonable, and I guarantee I’ll get Frau Grubach not only to accept it in public, but to truly and honestly believe it. You needn’t spare me in any way. If you want it spread around that I assaulted you, that’s what Frau Grubach will be told and what she will believe, without losing confidence in me, that’s how devoted she is to me.” Fräulein Bürstner stared silently at the floor in front of her, slumping slightly. “Why shouldn’t Frau Grubach believe that I assaulted you,” K. added. He saw before him her hair, parted, tightly drawn reddish hair, gathered together lightly on her neck. He thought she would look up at him, but she spoke without changing her posture: “Pardon me, it was the sudden knocking that frightened me, not so much the possible consequences of the captain’s presence. It was so quiet after you cried out, and then the knocking came, that’s why I was so frightened, and I was sitting so close to the door, the knocking was right beside me. I appreciate your suggestions, but I can’t accept them. I can take full responsibility for what happens in my room and face anyone. I’m surprised you don’t realize the insult to me implicit in your suggestions, along, of course, with your good intentions, which I certainly recognize. But go now, leave me to myself, I need that more than ever now. The few minutes you requested have turned into more than half an hour.” K. seized her by the hand and then by the wrist: “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he said. She pushed his hand away and answered: “No, no, I never get angry at anyone.” He reached for her wrist again, she allowed it now and led him to the door. He firmly intended to leave. But at the door, as if he hadn’t expected to find one there, he hesitated; Fräulein Bürstner used this moment to free herself, open the door, slip into the hall, and implore K. softly from there: “Now come on, please. Look”—she pointed at the captain’s door, beneath which a strip of light emerged—“his light is on and he’s amusing himself over us.” “I’m coming,” said K., rushed out, seized her, kissed her on the mouth, then all over her face, like a thirsty animal lapping greedily at a spring it has found at last. Then he kissed her on the neck, right at her throat, and left his lips there for a long time. A noise from the captain’s room caused him to look up. “I’ll go now,” he said; he wanted to call Fräulein Bürstner by her given name, but he didn’t know it. She nodded wearily, allowed him to take her hand for a kiss as she was already half turned away, as if she were unaware of it, and entered her room with bowed head. Shortly thereafter K. lay in his bed. He fell asleep very quickly; before falling asleep he reflected briefly on his conduct: he was pleased with it, but was surprised that he didn’t feel even more pleased; he was seriously concerned on Fräulein Bürstner’s behalf because of the captain.