VIII
At first K. was glad to have escaped from the crush of the maids and the assistants in the warm room. It was freezing a little, the snow was firmer, the going easier. But already darkness was actually beginning to fall, and he hastened his steps.
The Castle, whose contours were already beginning to dissolve, lay silent as ever; never yet had K. seen there the slightest sign of life—perhaps it was quite impossible to recognise anything at that distance, and yet the eye demanded it and could not endure that stillness. When K. looked at the Castle, often it seemed to him as if he were observing someone who sat quietly there gazing in front of him, not lost in thought and so oblivious of everything, but free and untroubled, as if he were alone with nobody to observe him, and yet must notice that he was observed, and all the same remained with his calm not even slightly disturbed; and really—one did not know whether it was cause or effect—the gaze of the observer could not remain concentrated there, but slid away. This impression today was strengthened still further by the early dusk; the longer he looked, the less he could make out and the deeper everything was lost in the twilight.
Just as K. reached the Herrenhof, which was still unlighted, a window was opened in the first storey, and a stout, smooth-shaven young man in a fur coat leaned out and then remained at the window. He did not seem to make the slightest response to K.’s greeting. Neither in the hall nor in the taproom did K. meet anybody; the smell of stale beer was still worse than last time; such a state of things was never allowed even in the inn by the bridge. K. went straight over to the door through which he had observed Klamm, and lifted the latch cautiously, but the door was barred; then he felt for the place where the peephole was, but the pin apparently was fitted so well that he could not find the place, so he struck a match. He was startled by a cry. In the corner between the door and the till, near the fire, a young girl was crouching and staring at him in the flare of the match, with partially opened sleep-drunken eyes. She was evidently Frieda’s successor. She soon collected herself and switched on the electric light; her expression was cross, then she recognised K. “Ah, the Land Surveyor,” she said smiling, held out her hand and introduced herself. “My name is Pepi.” She was small, red-cheeked, plump; her opulent reddish golden hair was twisted into a strong plait, yet some of it escaped and curled round her temples; she was wearing a dress of grey shimmering material, falling in straight lines, which did not suit her in the least; at the foot it was drawn together by a childishly clumsy silken band with tassels falling from it, which impeded her movements. She enquired after Frieda and asked whether she would come back soon. It was a question which verged on insolence. “As soon as Frieda went away,” she said next, “I was called here urgently because they couldn’t find anybody suitable at the moment; I’ve been a chambermaid till now, but this isn’t a change for the better. There’s lots of evening and night work in this job, it’s very tiring, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it. I’m not surprised that Frieda threw it up.” “Frieda was very happy here,” said K., to make her aware definitely of the difference between Frieda and herself, which she did not seem to appreciate. “Don’t you believe her,” said Pepi. “Frieda can keep a straight face better than other people can. She doesn’t admit what she doesn’t want to admit, and so nobody noticed that she had anything to admit. I’ve been in service here with her several years already. We’ve slept together all that time in the same bed, yet I’m not intimate with her, and by now I’m quite out of her thoughts, that’s certain. Perhaps her only friend is the old landlady of the Bridge Inn, and that tells a story too.” “Frieda is my fiancée,” said K., searching at the same time for the peephole in the door. “I know,” said Pepi, “that’s just the reason why I’ve told you. Otherwise it wouldn’t have any interest for you.”
“I understand,” said K. “You mean that I should be proud to have won such a reticent girl?” “That’s so,” said she, laughing triumphantly, as if she had established a secret understanding with K. regarding Frieda.
But it was not her actual words that troubled K. and deflected him for a
