IN THE EMPTY COURTROOM
THE STUDENT
THE OFFICES

K. waited from day to day throughout the following week for further notification; he couldn’t believe they had taken his waiver of interrogations literally, and when the expected notification had not arrived by Saturday evening, he took it as an implicit summons to appear again in the same building at the same time. So he returned on Sunday, but this time he went straight up the stairs and along the passageways; a few people who remembered him greeted him from their doors, but he no longer needed to ask the way and soon reached the right door. It opened at once at his knock, and without even glancing at the familiar face of the woman, who remained standing by the door, he headed directly for the adjoining room. “There’s no session today,” the woman said. “Why wouldn’t there be a session?” he asked, not really believing it. But the woman convinced him by opening the door to the next room. It was indeed empty and in its emptiness looked even more sordid than it had last Sunday. On the table, which stood unchanged on the platform, lay several books. “Can I look at the books?” K. asked, not out of any particular curiosity, but simply so that his presence was not entirely pointless. “No,” said the woman and shut the door again, “that’s not allowed. Those books belong to the examining magistrate.” “Oh, I see,” said K. and nodded, “they’re probably law books, and it’s in the nature of this judicial system that one is condemned not only in innocence but also in ignorance.” “It must be,” said the woman, who hadn’t really understood him. “Well, then I’ll leave,” said K. “Shall I give the examining magistrate any message?” asked the woman. “You know him?” K. asked. “Of course,” said the woman, “after all, my husband is a court usher.” Only then did K. see that the room, which had contained only a washtub last time, was now a fully furnished living room. The woman noticed his astonishment and said: “Yes, we live here rent free, but we have to move our furniture out on days when the court is in session. My husband’s job has a few disadvantages.” “It’s not so much the room that astonishes me,” said K., giving her an angry look, “as the fact that you’re married.” “Are you referring perhaps to the incident last session, when I interrupted your speech?” asked the woman. “Of course,” said K., “today that’s all over and practically forgotten, but it really angered me at the time. And now you yourself say you’re a married woman.” “It wasn’t to your disadvantage to have your speech interrupted. You were judged quite unfavorably afterwards.” “That may be,” said K. brushing the remark aside, “but that doesn’t excuse you.” “I’m excused in the eyes of those who know me,” said the woman, “the man who was embracing me has been persecuting me for a long time. I may not be tempting in general, but I am to him. There’s no way to protect myself, even my husband has finally come to terms with it; he has to put up with it if he wants to keep his job, because the man involved is a student and will presumably become even more powerful. He’s always after me; he left just before you arrived.” “It fits in with all the rest,” said K., “I’m not surprised.” “You’d probably like to improve a few things around here?” the woman asked slowly and tentatively, as if she were saying something dangerous for her as well as for K. “I gathered that from your speech, which personally I liked a lot. Of course I heard only part of it, since I missed the beginning and at the end I was on the floor with the student.” “It’s so disgusting here,” she said after a pause, and took K.’s hand. “Do you think you’ll be able to improve things?” K. smiled and turned his hand slightly in her soft hands. “Actually,” he said, “it’s not my job to improve things here, as you put it, and if you said that to someone like the examining magistrate you’d be laughed at or punished. I certainly wouldn’t have become involved in these matters of my own free will, and I would never have lost any sleep over the shortcomings of this judicial system. But because I was supposedly placed under arrest—I’ve been arrested, you see—I’ve been forced to take action in my own behalf. But if I can be of any help to you in the process, I’ll of course be happy to do so. Not simply out of compassion, but because you can help me in turn.” “How could I do that?” asked the woman. “By showing me those books on the table now, for example.” “But of course,” cried the woman, dragging him quickly after her. They were old dog-eared books; one of the bindings was almost split in two at the spine, the covers barely hanging by the cords. “How dirty everything is,” said K., shaking his head, and before K. could reach for the books, the woman wiped at least some of the dust off with her apron. K. opened the book on top, and an indecent picture was revealed. A man and a woman were sitting naked on a divan; the obscene intention of the artist was obvious, but his ineptitude was so great that in the end there was nothing to be seen but a man and woman, emerging far too corporeally from the picture, sitting rigidly upright, and due to the poor perspective, turning toward each other quite awkwardly. K. didn’t leaf through any further, but simply opened to the frontispiece of the second book, a novel entitled The Torments Grete Suffered at the Hands of Her Husband Hans. “So these are the law books they study,” said K. “I’m to be judged by such men.” “I’ll help you,” said the woman. “Do you want me to?” “Could you really do so without endangering yourself, after all, you said before that your husband was highly dependent on his superiors.” “Even so, I’ll help you,” said the woman. “Come on, we have to discuss it. Forget about my danger; I only fear danger when I want to. Come on.” She pointed to the platform and asked him to sit with her on the step. “You have beautiful dark eyes,” she said, after they were seated, looking up into K.’s face, “they say I have beautiful eyes as well, but yours are much more beautiful. By the way, I was struck by them right away, the first time you came here. They were the reason I came into the assembly room later, which I never do otherwise; in fact, it’s more or less forbidden.” “So that’s all it is,” thought K., “she’s offering herself to me; she’s depraved, like everyone else around here, she’s had her fill of court officials, which is understandable, so she accosts any stranger who comes along with a compliment about his eyes.” And K. stood up without saying anything, as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud and thus explained his conduct to the woman. “I don’t think you can help me,” he said, “to be of real help a person would have to have connections with higher officials. But I’m sure you know only the low-level employees who hang around here in such great numbers. Of course those you know quite well, and you might be able to get somewhere with them, I don’t doubt that, but the best you could hope to achieve through them would have no effect whatsoever on the final outcome of the trial. And you would have lost a few friends in the process. I don’t want that. Keep your present relationship with these people, it seems to me you really can’t do without it. I say that with some regret, because, to return your compliment at least in part, I like you, too, especially when you look at me as sadly as you do right now, although you really have no reason to. You’re part of the group I have to fight, but you’re quite comfortable among them; you even love the student, or if you don’t love him, you at least prefer him to your husband. That was easy to tell from what you said.” “No,” she cried, remaining seated and simply reaching for K.’s hand, which he failed to withdraw quickly enough, “you can’t leave now, you mustn’t go away having judged me falsely. Could you really bring yourself to leave now? Am I really so worthless that you won’t even do me the kindness of staying here a tiny bit longer?” “You misunderstand me,” said K, sitting down, “if it means so much to you for me to stay, I’ll do so gladly; after all, I have plenty of time, since I came here today thinking there would be a hearing. All I meant by what I said earlier was that you shouldn’t try to do anything about my trial for me. But there’s no reason to feel hurt by that either, knowing that I’m not at all concerned about the outcome of the trial, and would only laugh at a conviction. Assuming the trial ever comes to an actual conclusion, which I greatly doubt. I think it much more likely that the proceedings have already been dropped through laziness or forgetfulness or perhaps even fear on the part of the officials, or that they will be dropped in the near future. Of course it’s always possible that they’ll seem to continue the trial in hopes of some sort of sizable bribe, totally in vain, I can tell you right now, for I won’t bribe anyone. You would be doing me a favor, however, if you would tell the examining magistrate, or some other person who enjoys spreading important information, that I will never bribe anyone, nor be brought to do so by any of the rich store of tricks these gentlemen no doubt possess. There’s no chance of success, you can tell them that quite frankly. But they may well have realized that already, and even if they haven’t, it makes no real difference to me for them to find out now. Afer all, it would only spare these gentlemen work, and me a few annoyances as well of course, ones I’ll happily accept, if I know that each is a blow against them in turn. And I’ll make sure that that’s the case. Do you really know the examining magistrate?” “Of course,” said the woman, “in fact he’s the first person I thought of when I offered to help. I didn’t know he was only a low-level official, but since you say so, that’s probably right. Even so, I think that the report he sends to his superiors still has some influence. And he writes so many reports. You say the officials are lazy, but surely not all, and particularly not this examining magistrate, he writes a lot. Last Sunday, for example, the session went on almost into the evening. Everyone left, but the examining magistrate remained behind in the hall, and had me bring him a lamp; all I had was a little kitchen lamp, but he was satisfied with it and immediately started writing. In the meantime my husband, who had been off duty that particular Sunday, returned, we carried in our furniture, arranged our room once more, then some neighbors arrived, we talked a while longer by candlelight, in short, we forgot the examining magistrate and went to bed. Suddenly, that night, it must have been late at night by then, I awake and find the examining magistrate standing by my bed, shielding the lamp with his hand so that no light falls upon my husband, a needless precaution, since the way my husband sleeps the light wouldn’t have awakened him anyway. I was so startled I almost screamed, but the examining magistrate was very friendly, cautioned me against crying out, whispered that he had been writing till then, that he was bringing the lamp back now, and that he would never forget the picture I made when he found me sleeping. I’m telling you all this simply to show that the examining magistrate really does write a lot of reports, especially about you: for your hearing was certainly one of the major events of the Sunday session. Such long reports surely can’t be totally meaningless. But you can also see from this incident that the examining magistrate is interested in me, and it’s precisely at this early stage, for he must have just noticed me, that I can have a major influence on him. And I now have other indications that he sets great store by me. Yesterday he sent me silk stockings through the student, whom he trusts, and who is his colleague, supposedly because I tidy up the courtroom, but that’s only an excuse, because after all that’s my duty and my husband gets paid for it. They’re pretty stockings, see”—she stretched out her legs, pulled her dress up to her knees, and viewed her legs herself as well—“they’re pretty stockings, but really they’re too nice, and not suitable for me.”

Suddenly she interrupted herself, placed her hand on K.’s as if to calm him, and whispered: “Hush, Bertold is watching us!” K. slowly lifted his gaze. In the doorway to the courtroom stood a young man; he was short, with slightly crooked legs, and attempted to lend himself an air of dignity by means of a short, scraggly reddish beard he kept fingering. K. looked at him with curiosity; he was the first student of the unknown system of jurisprudence he’d met on more or less human terms, a man who would presumably advance at some stage to higher official positions. The student, on the other hand, seemed to pay no attention at all to K., but simply gestured to the woman with one finger, which he removed for a moment from his beard, and walked over to the window; the woman bent down to K. and whispered: “Don’t be angry with me, please, please don’t, and don’t think badly of me; I have to go to him now, to this horrible man, just look at his bandy legs. But I’ll come right back, and then I’ll go with you; if you’ll take me along, I’ll go anywhere you wish, you can do with me what you like, I’ll be happy to get out of here for as long as I can, the best of course would be forever.” She stroked K.’s hand once more, sprang up, and ran to the window. Instinctively, K. grabbed for her hand in the empty air. The woman did tempt him, and no matter how hard he thought about it, he could see no good reason not to give in to that temptation. The fleeting objection that the woman was ensnaring him on the court’s behalf he easily brushed aside. How could she ensnare him? Wouldn’t he still be free enough to simply smash the entire court, at least insofar as it touched him? Couldn’t he grant himself that small degree of self-confidence? And her offer of help sounded sincere, and was perhaps not without value. And there was perhaps no better way to revenge himself upon the examining magistrate and his retinue than taking this woman away from them for himself. Then the time might come when, late one night, after long hours of exhausting labor on his false reports about K., the examining magistrate would find the bed of the woman empty. And empty because she belonged to K., because this woman at the window, this voluptuous, supple, warm body in a dark dress of heavy, coarse material, belonged to K., and K. alone.

Once he had overcome his doubts about the woman in this way, the low conversation at the window grew too long for him, and he rapped on the platform with his knuckle, then with his fist. The student glanced briefly at K. over the woman’s shoulder, but continued undisturbed; in fact he drew even closer to the woman and put his arms around her. She lowered her head as if she were listening closely to him, and he kissed her loudly on the neck as she leaned over, not even really interrupting what he was saying. Seeing in this a confirmation of the tyranny the student exercised over the woman, as she had complained, K. rose and paced up and down the room. Glancing sideways toward the student, he contemplated the quickest way to get rid of him, and so he was happy enough when the student, apparently disturbed by K.’s pacing, which had meanwhile degenerated into full-blown tromping, remarked: “If you’re impatient, why don’t you leave? You could have left even earlier, no one would have missed you. In fact you should have left the moment I arrived, and as quickly as possible.” This remark may have been an outburst of utmost anger, but it contained as well the arrogance of a future court official speaking to an unpopular defendant. K. paused quite close to him and said with a smile: “I’m impatient, that’s true, but the easiest way to alleviate my impatience is for you to leave. But if by chance you came here to study—I hear you’re a student—I’ll gladly leave you to yourself and go off with this woman. By the way, you have a lot more studying to do before you can become a judge. I don’t really know much about your judicial system yet, but I take it that crass language alone, of the sort you’re certainly shamelessly good at already, is hardly sufficient.” “They shouldn’t have allowed him to run around so freely,” said the student, as if offering the woman an explanation for K.’s insulting remarks, “it was a mistake. I told the examining magistrate so. He should at least have been confined to his room between interrogations. Sometimes I just don’t understand the examining magistrate.” “You’re wasting your breath,” said K., stretching out his hand toward the woman. “Come on.” “Aha,” said the student, “no, no, you’re not going to get her,” and with a strength one wouldn’t have expected, he lifted her in one arm and ran to the door, his back bent, gazing up at her tenderly. A certain fear of K. was unmistakable in his action, yet he dared to provoke K. even further by stroking and squeezing the woman’s arm with his free hand. K. ran along beside him a few steps, ready to grab him, and if necessary to throttle him, when the woman said: “It’s no use, the examining magistrate has sent for me, I can’t go with you, this little monster,” she said, stroking the student’s face, “this little monster won’t let me go.” “And you don’t want to be freed,” yelled K., placing his hand on the shoulder of the student, who snapped at it with his teeth. “No,” the woman cried out, and pushed K. away with both hands, “no, no, don’t do that, what do you think you’re doing! I’ll be ruined. Let go of him, oh please, let go of him. He’s just following the examining magistrate’s orders and carrying me to him.” “Then let him go, and I hope I never see you again,” said K. in enraged disappointment, and shoved the student in the back so sharply that he stumbled for a moment, only to leap higher into the air with his burden in joy at not having fallen. K. followed them slowly; he realized that this was the first clear defeat he had suffered at the hands of these people. Of course there was no reason to let that worry him, he had suffered defeat only because he had sought to do battle. If he stayed home and led his normal life he was infinitely superior to any of these people, and could kick any one of them out of his path. And he pictured how funny it would be, for example, to see this miserable student, this puffed-up child, this bandy-legged, bearded fellow, kneeling at Elsa’s bedside, clutching his hands and begging for mercy. This vision pleased K. so greatly that he decided, if the opportunity ever arose, to take the student along to Elsa one day.

Out of curiosity, K. hurried to the door, wanting to see where the woman was being taken; the student surely wouldn’t carry her through the streets in his arms. It turned out the path was much shorter. Directly across from the apartment door a narrow flight of wooden stairs led upward, probably to an attic area; they made a turn, so you couldn’t see where they ended. The student was carrying the woman up these stairs, very slowly now, and groaning, for he was weakened by his previous efforts. The woman waved down at K., and tried to show by a shrug of her shoulders that the abduction wasn’t her fault, but there wasn’t a great deal of regret in the gesture. K. looked at her without expression, like a stranger, wishing to show neither his disappointment, nor that he could easily overcome it.

The two had already disappeared, but K. was still standing in the doorway. He could only assume that the woman had not only deceived him, but lied to him as well by saying she was being carried to the examining magistrate. The examining magistrate surely wasn’t sitting around waiting for her in the attic. The wooden steps explained nothing, no matter how long one stared at them. Then K. noticed a small sign beside the stairs, walked over, and read in a childish, awkward script: “Law Court Offices Upstairs.” So the law court offices were in the attic of this apartment building? That was an arrangement scarcely calculated to inspire much respect, and for a defendant it was reassuring to imagine what limited funds this court must have at its disposal if its offices were located where tenants who were themselves among the poorest of the poor tossed their useless trash. Of course the possibility could not be ruled out that there was enough money, but that the officials grabbed it before it could be used for the court’s purposes. Based on K.’s prior experience that even seemed likely, and although such a dissolute court was humiliating for a defendant, in the end it was even more reassuring than a poverty-stricken court would have been. Now K. could see why they’d been ashamed to invite the defendant to these garrets for the initial interrogation, and chose instead to pester him in his lodgings. What a position K. was in, after all, compared to the judge who sat in a garret, while he himself had a large office in the bank, with a waiting room, and could look down upon the busy city square through a huge plate-glass window. Of course he received no supplementary income from bribes or embezzlement, and he couldn’t have an assistant carry a woman in his arms to his office for him. But K. would gladly waive that right, at least in this life.

K. was still standing in front of the sign when a man came up the stairs, peered through the open door into the living room, from which the hall of inquiry could be seen as well, and finally asked K. if he had seen a woman there a short while ago. “You’re the court usher, aren’t you?” K. asked. “Yes,” said the man, “oh, you’re the defendant K., now I recognize you too, welcome.” And he held out his hand to K., who hadn’t expected that at all. “But there’s no session scheduled today,” the court usher said, as K. remained silent. “I know,” K. said, and observed the court usher’s civilian jacket, which, in addition to the normal buttons, bore as sole emblem of his office two gold buttons, which seemed to have been taken off an old officer’s uniform. “I spoke with your wife a short while ago. She’s not here anymore. The student carried her off to the examining magistrate.” “You see,” said the court usher, “they’re always taking her away from me. Today is Sunday, and I have no official duties, but just to get me out of the way, they send me off with a message that’s meaningless anyway. And in fact I’m not sent far, so that the hope remains that if I really hurry, I might get back in time. I run as fast as I can to the office they’ve sent me to, shout my message so breathlessly through the half-open door that they probably don’t understand it, and race back again, but the student has moved even faster than I have, and of course he doesn’t have as far to go, he has only to run down the attic stairs. If I weren’t so dependent on them, I would have long since crushed the student against this wall. Right here next to the sign. I keep dreaming about it. He’s squashed flat a little above floor level here, his arms stretched out, his fingers spread, his crooked legs curved in a circle with blood spattered all about. But it’s just been a dream up to now.” “There’s nothing else you can do?” K. asked with a smile. “I don’t know of anything,” said the court usher. “And now it’s getting worse: up to this point he’s just carried her off for himself, but now, as I’ve been expecting for some time of course, he’s carrying her to the examining magistrate as well.” “Does your wife bear no blame at all in the matter?” asked K.; he had to control himself as he asked this question, so strong was the jealousy he too now felt. “Of course,” said the court usher, “she bears the greatest blame of all. She threw herself at him. As for him, he chases all the women. In this building alone, he’s already been thrown out of five apartments he wormed his way into. Of course my wife is the most beautiful woman in the building, and I’m the only one who doesn’t dare protect himself.” “If that’s the way it is, then obviously nothing can be done,” said K. “Why not?” asked the court usher. “Someone needs to give the student, who’s a coward, a thorough flogging the next time he tries to touch my wife, so he’ll never try it again. But I can’t do it myself, and no one will do me the favor, because they all fear his power. Only a man like you could do it.” “Why me?” asked K. in astonishment. “You are a defendant, after all,” said the court usher. “Yes,” said K., “but I should fear his influence all the more, not on the outcome of the trial perhaps, but at least on the preliminary investigation.” “Yes, of course,” said the court usher, as if K.’s opinion were equally valid. “But as a rule we don’t conduct pointless trials.” “I don’t share your opinion,” said K., “but that needn’t keep me from dealing with the student when the occasion arises.” “I would be very grateful to you,” said the court usher somewhat formally, not really seeming to believe that his greatest wish could ever be fulfilled. “There may be other officials,” K. went on, “perhaps all of them, who deserve the same treatment.” “Oh, yes,” said the court usher, as if that were self-evident. Then he gazed at K. with a look of trust he hadn’t shown before, in spite of all his friendliness, and added: “People are always rebelling.” But the conversation appeared to have taken a slightly uncomfortable turn in his opinion, for he broke it off by saying: “Now I have to report to the law court offices. Do you want to come along?” “I don’t have any business there,” said K. “You could look around the offices. No one will bother you.” “Are they worth seeing?” asked K. hesitantly, but feeling a strong urge to go along. “Well,” said the court usher, “I just thought you’d be interested.” “Fine,” said K. at last, “I’ll come along,” and he ran up the stairs more quickly than the court usher.

As he entered he almost stumbled, for there was an extra step beyond the door. “They don’t show much consideration for the public,” he said. “They show no consideration of any kind,” said the court usher, “just look at this waiting room.” It was a long hallway, with ill-fitting doors leading to the individual offices of the attic. Although there was no direct source of light, it was not completely dark, since some of the offices had been constructed with open wooden grillwork instead of solid wooden boards facing the hall, reaching to the ceiling to be sure, through which some light penetrated, and beyond which a few officials were visible writing at desks, or standing for the moment near the grille, looking out through the gaps at the people in the hallway. There were very few people in the hallway, probably because it was Sunday. They made a very modest impression. Spaced out at nearly regular intervals, they sat in two rows on long wooden benches situated on both sides of the hallway. All of them were carelessly dressed, in spite of the fact that most, to judge by their expression, their posture, the style of their beards, and numerous other small details difficult to pin down, belonged to the upper classes. Since no coathooks were available, they had placed their hats beneath the bench, probably following each other’s lead. As those sitting closest to the door caught sight of K. and the court usher, they rose in greeting; when those behind them noticed, they thought they had to do so as well, so that all of them rose as the two men passed by. They never straightened entirely; backs bowed and knees bent, they stood like beggars in the street. K. waited for the court usher, who was a few steps behind him, and said: “How humbled they must be.” “Yes,” said the court usher, “they’re defendants, everyone you see is a defendant.” “Really?” said K. “Then they’re my colleagues.” And he turned to the closest one, a tall slim man whose hair was already turning gray. “What is it you’re waiting for?” K. asked politely. The unexpected question, however, confused the man, which was even more embarrassing since he was obviously a man of the world, who would certainly have retained his self-confidence elsewhere and did not easily relinquish the superiority he had attained over so many others. But here he couldn’t even answer such a simple question and looked at the others as if it were their duty to come to his aid, and as if no one could expect an answer from him if such aid were not forthcoming. Then the court usher stepped forward and said, trying to calm the man and lend him encouragement: “The gentleman is only asking what you’re waiting for. Go ahead and answer.” The no doubt familiar voice of the court usher was more effective: “I’m waiting—” he began, and hesitated. He had apparently chosen this opening in order to answer the question exactly as it was posed, but could not think how to go on now. A few among those waiting had drawn near and gathered about them; the court usher said to them: “Get back, get back, keep the hallway clear.” They retreated somewhat, but did not return to their original places. In the meantime the man who had been questioned had pulled himself together and even managed a faint smile as he answered: “A month ago I submitted several petitions to hear evidence in my case, and I’m waiting for them to be acted upon.” “You seem to be taking great pains,” said K. “Yes,” said the man, “after all, it’s my case.” “Not everyone shares your view,” said K., “for example I’m a defendant too, but I’ll be blessed if I’ve submitted a petition to hear evidence or done anything at all of that sort. Do you really think it’s necessary?” “I’m not certain,” said the man, once more completely unsure of himself; he apparently thought K. was making fun of him, and would have evidently preferred to repeat his earlier answer in full, for fear of making some new mistake, but in the face of K.’s impatient gaze he simply said: “For my part, I’ve submitted petitions to hear evidence.” “You probably don’t think I’m really a defendant,” K. said. “Oh, yes, certainly,” said the man, and stepped aside slightly, but anxiety, not belief, lay in his reply. “So you don’t believe me?” asked K., seizing the man by the arm, unconsciously provoked by his humbleness, as if he wished to compel him to believe. He had no intention of hurting him, however, and squeezed quite gently, but even so the man screamed as if K. had applied a pair of red-hot pincers, and not merely two fingers. With this ridiculous outcry K. finally had enough of the man; if he didn’t believe he was a defendant, so much the better; perhaps he even took him for a judge. And now, in parting, he indeed squeezed him harder, pushed him back down onto the bench, and walked on. “Most defendants are so sensitive,” said the court usher. Behind them almost all those who were waiting gathered around the man, who had already stopped screaming, apparently quizzing him closely about the incident. K. was now approached by a guard, who could be recognized chiefly by a saber whose scabbard, to judge by its color, was made of aluminum. K. was amazed by this and even reached out toward it. The guard, who had been drawn by the screams, asked what had happened. The court usher attempted to pacify him with a few words, but the guard said he’d have to look into it himself, saluted and hurried on, taking extremely rapid but quite short steps, probably hindered by gout.

K. soon ceased worrying about him and the people in the hallway, particularly since he saw, about halfway down the hall, a turn to the right through an opening with no door. He checked with the court usher whether it was the right way, the court usher nodded, and K. took the turn. It annoyed him that he always had to walk a pace or two ahead of the court usher, since, given the location, it might appear that he was an arrested man under escort. So he slowed up several times for the court usher, who, however, kept hanging back. Finally, to put an end to his discomfort, K. said: “Well, I’ve seen what things look like here, and I’m ready to leave.” “You haven’t seen everything yet,” said the court usher, completely without guile. “I don’t want to see everything,” said K., who was in fact feeling quite tired, “I want to leave, where’s the exit?” “Surely you’re not lost already,” asked the court usher in amazement, “you go to the corner there, turn right and go straight down the hall to the door.” “Come with me,” said K. “Show me the way; I’ll miss it, there are so many ways here.” “It’s the only way,” said the court usher, reproachfully now, “I can’t go back with you; I have to deliver my report, and I’ve already lost a good deal of time because of you.” “Come with me,” K. repeated more sharply, as if he had finally caught the court usher in a lie. “Don’t shout so,” whispered the court usher, “there are offices all around here. If you don’t want to go back by yourself, then come along with me a ways, or wait here until I’ve delivered my report, then I’ll gladly go back with you.” “No, no,” said K., “I won’t wait and you have to go with me now.” K. hadn’t even looked around the room he was in; not until one of the many wooden doors surrounding him opened did he glance over. A young woman, no doubt drawn by K.’s loud voice, stepped in and asked: “May I help you, sir?” Behind her in the distance a man could be seen approaching in the semidarkness. K. looked at the court usher. After all, he’d said that no one would pay any attention to K., and now here came two people already; it wouldn’t take much and the official bureaucracy would notice him and demand an explanation for his presence. The only reasonable and acceptable one was that he was a defendant trying to discover the date of his next hearing, but that was precisely the explanation he didn’t wish to give, particularly since it wasn’t true, for he had come out of pure curiosity or, even less acceptable as an explanation, out of a desire to confirm that the interior of this judicial system was just as repugnant as its exterior. And it seemed that he had been right in that assumption; he had no wish to intrude any further, he was inhibited enough by what he had already seen, and he was certainly in no mood now to confront some high official who might appear from behind any door; he wanted to leave, with the court usher or alone if need be.

But the way he was silently standing there must have been striking, and the young woman and the court usher were actually looking at him as if they thought he was about to undergo some profound metamorphosis at any moment, one they didn’t want to miss. And in the doorway stood the man K. had noticed in the background earlier, holding on tightly to the lintel of the low door and rocking back and forth slightly on the tips of his toes, like an impatient spectator. It was the young woman, however, who first realized that K.’s behavior was the result of a slight indisposition; she brought him a chair and asked: “Wouldn’t you like to sit down?” K. sat down immediately and propped his elbows on the arms of the chair for better support. “You’re a little dizzy, aren’t you?” she asked him. Her face was now quite near; it bore the severe expression some young women have precisely in the bloom of youth. “Don’t worry,” she said, “there’s nothing unusual about that here, almost everyone has an attack like this the first time. You are here for the first time? Well, you see then, it’s nothing at all unusual. The sun beats down on the attic beams and the hot wood makes the air terribly thick and stifling. That’s why this isn’t such a good location for the offices, in spite of the many other advantages it offers. But as far as the air is concerned, on days when the traffic of involved parties is heavy you can hardly breathe, and that’s almost daily. Then if you take into consideration that a great deal of wash is hung out here to dry as well—the tenants can’t be entirely forbidden from doing so—it will come as no surprise that you feel a little sick. But in the end people get quite used to the air. When you come here the second or third time, you’ll hardly notice the stuffiness at all. Do you feel better yet?” K. didn’t reply; he was too embarrassed that this sudden weakness had placed him at these people’s mercy; moreover, now that he knew the cause of his nausea he didn’t feel better, but instead a little worse. The young woman noticed this right away, picked up a hooked pole leaning against the wall and, to give K. a little fresh air, pushed open a small hatch directly above K. that led outside. But so much soot fell in that the young woman had to close the hatch again immediately and wipe the soot from K.’s hands with her handkerchief, since K. was too tired to do it himself. He would gladly have remained sitting there quietly until he had gathered the strength to leave, and the less attention they paid to him, the sooner that would happen. But now the young woman added: “You can’t stay here, we’re interrupting the flow of traffic”—K. looked around to see what traffic he could possibly be interrupting—“if you want, I’ll take you to the infirmary.” “Help me please,” she said to the man in the doorway, who approached at once. But K. didn’t want to go to the infirmary; that was precisely what he wanted to avoid, being led farther on, for the farther he went, the worse things would get. So he said, “I can walk now,” and stood up shakily, spoiled by the comfort of sitting. But then he couldn’t hold himself upright. “I can’t do it,” he said, shaking his head, and sat down again with a sigh. He remembered the court usher, who could easily lead him out in spite of everything, but he appeared to be long gone; K. peered between the young woman and the man, who were standing in front of him, but couldn’t find the court usher.

“I believe,” said the man, who was elegantly dressed, with a striking gray waistcoat that ended in two sharply tailored points, “the gentleman’s illness can be traced to the air in here, so it would be best, and please him most, if we simply skipped the infirmary and led him out of the law offices.” “That’s it,” K. cried out, so overjoyed he barely let the man finish his sentence, “I’m sure I’ll feel better soon, I’m not that weak, I just need a little support under the arms, I won’t be much trouble, it’s not very far, just take me to the door, I’ll sit on the steps a bit and be fine soon, I never have attacks like this, it surprised me too. After all, I’m an official myself and I’m used to office air, but it does seem really bad here, you say so yourself. Would you be so kind as to help me a little, I’m dizzy, and I feel sick when I stand on my own.” And he lifted his shoulders to make it easier for the others to grab him under the arms.

But the man didn’t follow his suggestion; instead he kept his hands calmly in his pockets and laughed aloud. “You see,” he said to the young woman, “I hit the nail on the head. It’s only here that the gentleman feels unwell, not in general.” The young woman smiled too, but she tapped the man lightly on the arm with her fingertips, as if he’d carried a joke with K. too far. “Oh, don’t worry,” the man said, still laughing, “of course I’ll show the gentleman out.” “All right then,” said the young woman, inclining her charming head for a moment. “Don’t attach too much meaning to his laughter,” the young woman said to K., who had lapsed into dejection again, staring vacantly, and didn’t seem in need of any explanation, “this gentleman—may I introduce you?” (the man gave his permission with a wave of his hand) “—this gentleman is our information officer. He provides waiting parties with any information they may need, and since our judicial system is not very well known among the general population, a great deal of information is requested. He has an answer for every question; you can try him out if you feel like it. But that’s not his only asset, a second is his elegant dress. We—the staff that is—decided that the information officer, who’s always the first person the parties meet and the one they deal with most often, should be dressed elegantly, to create a respectable first impression. The rest of us, sadly enough, are, as you can see in my own case, poorly dressed, in old-fashioned clothes; it doesn’t make much sense to spend anything on clothing, since we’re almost always in the offices, and even sleep here. But as I said, in the information officer’s case we thought fancy clothes were necessary. But since we couldn’t get them from the administration, which is funny about that sort of thing, we took up a collection—the parties pitched in too—and we bought him this handsome suit and a few others as well. So everything was set to make a good impression, but he ruins it by the way he laughs, which startles people.” “So it does,” the man said with an annoyed air, “but I don’t understand, Fräulein, why you’re telling this gentleman all our intimate secrets, or more accurately, forcing them upon him, since he has no interest in knowing them. Just look at him sitting there, obviously immersed in his own affairs.” K. didn’t even feel like objecting; the young woman probably meant well; perhaps she was trying to take his mind off things, or give him a chance to pull himself together, but she’d chosen the wrong method. “I had to explain why you laughed,” the young woman said. “After all, it was insulting.” “I think he’d forgive much worse insults if I would just show him the way out.” K. said nothing, he didn’t even look up; he put up with the fact that the two were discussing him like a case, indeed, he preferred it that way. But suddenly he felt the hand of the information officer on one arm and the hand of the young woman on the other. “Up with you now, you feeble fellow,” said the information officer. “Thank you both very much,” said K. pleasantly surprised, rose slowly, and guided the others’ hands to the places where he most needed their support. “It seems like I’m overly concerned to place the information officer in a good light,” the young woman said softly in K.’s ear, as they approached the hallway, “but believe me, what I say is true. He’s not hard-hearted. It’s not his duty to accompany sick parties out and yet he does, as you can see. Perhaps none of us is hard-hearted, perhaps we’d all like to help, but as court officials it can easily appear that we’re hard-hearted and don’t want to help anyone. That really bothers me.” “Wouldn’t you like to sit here for a bit?” asked the information officer; they were already in the hallway, directly in front of the defendant K. had spoken to earlier. K. was almost ashamed to face him: earlier he had stood so erect before him, while now two people had to hold him up, the information officer balanced his hat on his outspread fingers, and his tousled hair fell across his sweat-covered brow. But the defendant seemed to notice none of this; he stood humbly before the information officer, who stared right past him, and merely attempted to excuse his presence. “I realize there can’t be any response to my petitions today,” he said. “But I came anyway; I thought I could at least wait here, since it’s Sunday, and I have plenty of time and won’t disturb anyone.” “You don’t have to be so apologetic about it,” said the information officer, “your concern is quite praiseworthy; of course you’re taking up space unnecessarily, but as long as it doesn’t begin to annoy me, I certainly won’t hinder you from following the course of your affair in detail. Having seen others who scandalously neglect their duty, one learns to be patient with people like you. You may be seated.” “He really knows how to talk to the parties,” whispered the young woman. K. nodded, but immediately flared up as the information officer asked him again: “Wouldn’t you like to sit down here?” “No,” said K., “I don’t want to rest.” He had said it as firmly as he could, but in reality it would have done him a great deal of good to sit down; he felt seasick. He thought he was on a ship, rolling in heavy seas. It seemed to him that the waters were pounding against the wooden walls, there was a roar from the depths of the hallway like the sound of breaking waves, the hallway seemed to pitch and roll, lifting and lowering the waiting clients on both sides. That made the calm demeanor of the young woman and man who led him even more incomprehensible. He was at their mercy; if they let go of him, he would fall like a plank. Sharp glances shot back and forth from their small eyes; K. felt their steady tread without matching it, for he was practically carried along from step to step. He realized at last that they were speaking to him, but he couldn’t understand them; he heard only the noise that filled everything, through which a steady, high-pitched sound like a siren seemed to emerge. “Louder,” he whispered with bowed head, and was ashamed, for he knew that they had spoken loudly enough, even though he hadn’t understood. Then finally, as if the wall had split open before him, a draft of fresh air reached him, and he heard beside him: “First he wants to leave, then you can tell him a hundred times that this is the exit and he doesn’t move.” K. saw that he was standing at the outer door, which the young woman had opened. Instantly, all his strength seemed to return; to get a foretaste of freedom he stepped down immediately onto the first step and from there took leave of his escorts, who bowed to him. “Thank you very much,” he said again, shaking hands with both of them repeatedly, stopping only when he thought he noticed that they were unable to bear the comparatively fresh air from the stairway, accustomed as they were to the air in the offices of the court. They could hardly reply, and the young woman might have fallen had K. not shut the door as quickly as possible. K. stood quietly for a moment, smoothed his hair into place with the help of a pocket mirror, picked up his hat, which was lying on the landing below—the information officer must have tossed it there—and then raced down the steps with such long, energetic leaps that he was almost frightened by the sudden change. His normally sound constitution had never provided him with such surprises before. Was his body going to rebel and offer him a new trial, since he was handling the old one so easily? He didn’t entirely rule out the thought of consulting a doctor at the first opportunity; in any case—and here he could advise himself—he would spend his Sunday mornings more profitably than this from now on.