message; if it were laid down of course I would go at once; but it isn’t laid down, and if I never went at all, nothing could be said to me. When I take a message it’s of my own free will.” “Well and good,” replied K., staring at Barnabas and intentionally ignoring the assistants, who kept on slowly raising their heads by turns behind Barnabas’ shoulders as from a trapdoor, and hastily disappearing again with a soft whistle in imitation of the whistling of the wind, as if they were terrified at K.; they enjoyed themselves like this for a long time. “What it’s like with Klamm I don’t know, but that you can understand everything there properly I very much doubt, and even if you did, we couldn’t better things there. But you can carry a message and that’s all I ask you. A quite short message. Can you carry it for me tomorrow and bring me the answer tomorrow, or at least tell me how you were received? Can you do that and will you do that? It would be of great service to me. And perhaps I’ll have a chance yet of rewarding you properly, or have you any wish now, perhaps, that I can fulfil?” “Certainly I’ll carry out your orders,” said Barnabas. “And will you do your utmost to carry them out as well as you can, to give the message to Klamm himself, to get a reply from Klamm himself, and immediately, all this immediately, tomorrow, in the morning, will you do that?” “I’ll do my best,” replied Barnabas, “but I always do that.” “We won’t argue any more about it now,” said K. “This is the message: ‘The Land Surveyor begs the Director to grant him a personal interview; he accepts in advance any conditions which may be attached to the permission to do this. He is driven to make this request because until now every intermediary has completely failed; in proof of this he advances the fact that till now he has not carried out any surveying at all, and according to the information given him by the Village Superintendent will never carry out such work; consequently it is with humiliation and despair that he has read the last letter of the Director; only a personal interview with the Director can be of help here. The Land Surveyor knows how extraordinary his request is, but he will exert himself to make his disturbance of the Director as little felt as possible; he submits himself to any and every limitation of time, also any stipulation which may be considered necessary as to the number of words which may be allowed him during the interview, even with ten words he believes he will be able to manage. In profound respect and extreme impatience he awaits your decision.’ ” K. had forgotten himself while he was speaking, it was as if he were standing before Klamm’s door talking to the porter. “It has grown much longer than I had thought,” he said, “but you must learn it by heart, I don’t want to write a letter, it would only go the same endless way as the other papers.” So for Barnabas’ guidance, K. scribbled it on a scrap of paper on one of the assistants’ backs, while the other assistant held up the lantern; but already K. could take it down from Barnabas’ dictation, for he had retained it all and spoke it out correctly, without being put off by the misleading interpolations of the assistants. “You’ve an extraordinary memory,” said K., giving him the paper, “but now show yourself extraordinary in the other things as well. And any requests? Have you none? It would reassure me a little—I say it frankly—regarding the fate of my message, if you had any.” At first Barnabas remained silent, then he said: “My sisters send you their greetings.” “Your sisters,” replied K. “Oh, yes, the big strong girls.” “Both send you their greetings, but Amalia in particular,” said Barnabas, “besides it was she who brought me this letter for you today from the Castle.” Struck by this piece of information, K. asked: “Couldn’t she take my message to the Castle as well? Or couldn’t you both go and each of you try your luck?” “Amalia isn’t allowed into the Chancellory,” said Barnabas, “otherwise she would be very glad to do it.” “I’ll come and see you perhaps tomorrow,” said K., “only you come to me first with the answer. I’ll wait for you in the school. Give my greetings to your sisters too.” K.’s promise seemed to make Barnabas very happy, and after they had shaken hands he could not help touching K. lightly on the shoulder. As if everything were once more as it had been when Barnabas first walked into the inn among the peasants in all his glory, K. felt this touch on his shoulder as a distinction, though he smiled at it. In a better mood now, he let the assistants do as they pleased on the way home.
XI
He reached the school chilled through and through, it was quite dark, the candles in the lanterns had burned down; led by the assistants, who already knew their way here, he felt his road into one of the classrooms. “Your first praiseworthy service,” he said, remembering Klamm’s letter. Still half-asleep Frieda cried out from a corner: “Let K. sleep! Don’t disturb him!” so entirely did K. occupy her thoughts, even though she had been so overcome with sleep that she had not been able to wait up for him. Now a light was got, but the lamp could not be turned up very far, for there was only a little paraffin left. The new household was still without many necessaries. The room had been heated, it was true, but it was a large
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