“So the only remaining conclusion,” said K., “is that everything is very uncertain and insoluble, including my being thrown out.”
“Who would take the risk of throwing you out, Land Surveyor?” asked the Superintendent. “The very uncertainty about your summons guarantees you the most courteous treatment, only you’re too sensitive by all appearances. Nobody keeps you here, but that surely doesn’t amount to throwing you out.”
“Oh, Superintendent,” said K., “now again you’re taking far too simple a view of the case. I’ll enumerate for your benefit a few of the things that keep me here: the sacrifice I made in leaving my home, the long and difficult journey, the well-grounded hopes I built on my engagement here, my complete lack of means, the impossibility after this of finding some other suitable job at home, and last but not least my fiancée, who lives here.”
“Oh, Frieda!” said the Superintendent without showing any surprise. “I know. But Frieda would follow you anywhere. As for the rest of what you said, some consideration will be necessary and I’ll communicate with the Castle about it. If a decision should be come to, or if it should be necessary first to interrogate you again, I’ll send for you. Is that agreeable to you?”
“No, absolutely,” said K. “I don’t want any act of favour from the Castle, but my rights.”
“Mizzi,” the Superintendent said to his wife, who still sat pressed against him, and lost in a daydream was playing with Klamm’s letter, which she had folded into the shape of a little boat—K. snatched it from her in alarm. “Mizzi, my foot is beginning to throb again, we must renew the compress.”
K. got up. “Then I’ll take my leave,” he said. “Hm,” said Mizzi, who was already preparing a poultice, “the last one was drawing too strongly.” K. turned away. At his last words the assistants with their usual misplaced zeal to be useful had thrown open both wings of the door. To protect the sickroom from the strong draught of cold air which was rushing in, K. had to be content with making the Superintendent a hasty bow. Then, pushing the assistants in front of him, he rushed out of the room and quickly closed the door.
VI
Before the inn the landlord was waiting for him. Without being questioned he would not have ventured to address him, accordingly K. asked what he wanted. “Have you found new lodgings yet?” asked the landlord, looking at the ground. “You were told to ask by your wife?” replied K., “you’re very much under her influence?” “No,” said the landlord, “I didn’t ask because of my wife. But she’s very bothered and unhappy on your account, can’t work, lies in bed and sighs and complains all the time.” “Shall I go and see her?” asked K. “I wish you would,” said the landlord. “I’ve been to the Superintendent’s already to fetch you. I listened at the door, but you were talking. I didn’t want to disturb you, besides I was anxious about my wife and ran back again; but she wouldn’t see me, so there was nothing for it but to wait for you.” “Then let’s go at once,” said K., “I’ll soon reassure her.” “If you could only manage it,” said the landlord.
They went through the bright kitchen where three or four maids, engaged all in different corners at the work they were happening to be doing, visibly stiffened on seeing K. From the kitchen the sighing of the landlady could already be heard. She lay in a windowless annex separated from the kitchen by thin lath boarding. There was room in it only for a huge family bed and a chest. The bed was so placed that from it one could overlook the whole kitchen and superintend the work. From the kitchen, on the other hand, hardly anything could be seen in the annex. There it was quite dark, only the faint gleam of the purple bed-coverlet could be distinguished. Not until one entered and one’s eyes became used to the darkness did one detach particular objects.
“You’ve come at last,” said the landlady feebly. She was lying stretched out on her back, she breathed with visible difficulty, she had thrown back the feather quilt. In bed she looked much younger than in her clothes, but a nightcap of delicate lacework which she wore, although it was too small and nodded on her head, made her sunk face look pitiable. “Why should I have come?” asked K. mildly. “You didn’t send for me.” “You shouldn’t have kept me waiting so long,” said the landlady with the capriciousness of an invalid. “Sit down,” she went on pointing to the bed, “and you others go away.” Meantime the maids as well as the assistants had crowded in. “I’ll go too, Gardana,” said the landlord, This was the first time that K. had heard her name. “Of course,” she replied slowly, and as if she were occupied with other thoughts she added absently: “Why should you remain any more than the others?” But when they had all retreated to the kitchen—even the assistants this time went at once, besides, a maid was behind them—Gardana was alert enough to grasp that everything she said could be heard in there, for the annex lacked a door, and so she commanded everyone to leave the kitchen as well. It was immediately done.
“Land Surveyor,” said Gardana, “there’s a wrap hanging over there beside the chest, will you please reach me it. I’ll lay it over me. I can’t bear the feather quilt, my breathing is so bad.” And as K. handed her the wrap, she went on: “Look, this is a beautiful wrap, isn’t it?” To K. it seemed to be an
