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- Herausgeber: e-artnow
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Franz Kafka: The Complete Novels is an extraordinary collection of literary masterpieces that have captivated readers for generations. Franz Kafka, a master of existential dread and surreal storytelling, invites you into a world where the mundane twists into the nightmarish, and the boundaries of reality blur. In The Trial, Josef K. finds himself inexplicably arrested and plunged into a labyrinthine legal system where guilt is assumed, and justice is elusive. As K. navigates his increasingly surreal circumstances, Kafka exposes the alienation and futility inherent in bureaucratic systems. The Castle presents a land surveyor, K., who arrives in a village governed by an enigmatic castle. Despite his attempts to gain access and assert his purpose, he encounters opaque hierarchies and endless frustrations. This haunting tale explores themes of authority, belonging, and the human desire for meaning in an indifferent world. In America (also titled The Man Who Disappeared), a young immigrant, Karl Rossmann, faces an unrelenting and bizarre version of the American Dream. With its disjointed episodes, the novel paints a grimly ironic portrait of freedom, opportunity, and displacement. This collection is not just a journey into Kafka's brilliant mind but also a mirror to the absurdities and complexities of modern existence. A must-read for lovers of thought-provoking literature. This translation has been assisted by artificial intelligence.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
Franz Kafka: The Complete Novels
Table of contents
The Trial
Chapter 1. Arrest – Conversation with Mrs. Grubach – Then with Fraeulein Buerstner
Someone must have slandered Josef K., for without having done anything wrong, he was arrested one morning. Mrs. Grubach's cook, who brought him breakfast every morning around eight o'clock, did not come this time. That had never happened before. K. waited a little longer, saw from his pillow the old woman who lived opposite and who was watching him with an unusual curiosity, but then, feeling both strange and hungry, he rang the bell. Immediately there was a knock at the door and a man whom he had never seen in the apartment before entered. He was slim but strongly built, wearing a close-fitting black suit, similar to a traveling suit, with various folds, pockets, buckles, buttons, and a belt, which made it appear particularly practical without it being clear what it was supposed to be used for. "Who are you?" K. asked, and sat up halfway in the bed. The man, however, ignored the question, as if one had to accept his appearance, and merely said in turn, "You rang?" "Anna shall bring me breakfast," K. said, and tried, at first silently, to determine by attention and consideration who the man actually was. But the stranger did not expose himself to K.'s gaze for too long. Instead, he turned to the door, which he opened a crack, and said to someone who was apparently standing just inside the door, "He wants Anna to bring him breakfast." There was a little laughter in the next room, and from the sound K. couldn't be sure whether it was several people who were laughing. Although the strange man couldn't have learned anything from this that he hadn't already known, he now said to K. in the tone of a report: "It's impossible." "That would be new," said K., jumping out of bed and quickly pulling on his trousers. "I'll see what kind of people are in the next room and how Mrs. Grubach will answer to me for this disturbance." It occurred to him right away that he didn't have to say that out loud and that by doing so he was effectively recognizing the stranger's right to supervise him, but it didn't seem important to him now. After all, the stranger took it that way, because he said, "Wouldn't you rather stay here?" "I don't want to stay here, nor do I want to be addressed by you, as long as you don't introduce yourself to me." "It was well meant," said the stranger and now voluntarily opened the door. In the next room, which K. entered more slowly than he wanted to, it looked almost exactly the same at first glance as it had the night before. It was Mrs. Grubach's living room, and perhaps today there was a little more space in this room, which was already overcrowded with furniture, blankets, porcelain and photographs. You couldn't tell at first glance, especially since the main change was the presence of a man sitting by the open window with a book, from which he now looked up. "You should have stayed in your room! Didn't Franz tell you?" "Yes, what do you want?" said K., and looked from the new acquaintance to the man named Franz, who had stopped in the doorway, and then back again. Through the open window, the old woman could be seen again, who had approached the now opposite window with truly senile curiosity in order to continue to see everything. "I want to see Mrs. Grubach," K. said, and made a movement as if to break free of the two men, who were standing far away from him, and wanted to continue on his way. "No," said the man at the window, throwing the book onto a small table and standing up. "You can't leave, you're under arrest." "It seems that way," K. said. "And why is that?" he then asked. "We are not authorized to tell you that. Go to your room and wait. The proceedings have now been initiated, and you will learn everything at the right time. I am going beyond my instructions by speaking to you so kindly. But I hope no one but Franz hears it, and he is kind to you even against all regulations. If you continue to have as much luck as you did in assigning your guards, then you can be confident." K. wanted to sit down, but now he saw that there was no place to sit in the whole room, except for the chair by the window. "You will yet see how true all this is," said Franz, and at the same time he and the other man walked towards him. The latter in particular towered over K. and often patted him on the shoulder. Both examined K.'s nightshirt and said that he would now have to put on a much worse one, but that they would keep this nightshirt and the rest of his clothes and return them to him if his case turned out favorably. "It is better to give us the things than to the depot," they said, "because in the depot, thefts often occur and, besides, they sell all the things there after a certain time, regardless of whether the relevant proceedings have been completed or not. And how long such lawsuits take, especially recently! They would eventually receive the proceeds from the depository, but these proceeds are, first of all, small in the first place, because it is not the amount of the offer that decides the sale, but the amount of the bribe. Furthermore, experience shows that such proceeds are further reduced when they are passed from hand to hand and from year to year." K. paid little attention to these conversations, he did not value the right of disposal over his things, which he perhaps still possessed, it was much more important for him to get clarity about his situation; but in the presence of these people he could not even think, the belly of the second guard kept bumping - they could only be guards - kept bumping into him in a friendly manner, but when he looked up, he saw a dry, bony face with a strong, sideways turned nose, which did not match the fat body at all, and which communicated with the other guard above him. What kind of people were they? What were they talking about? Which authority did they belong to? K. lived in a constitutional state, peace reigned everywhere, all laws were upheld, who dared to assault him in his apartment? He always tended to take everything as lightly as possible, to believe the worst only when the worst happened, not to make any provisions for the future, even when everything was threatened. But this time it didn't seem right to him. He could see the whole thing as a joke, a crude joke, that his colleagues at the bank had played on him for some unknown reason, perhaps because today was his thirtieth birthday. Of course it was possible, maybe he just needed to laugh in the faces of the guardsand they would laugh with him, perhaps they were workmen from the street corner, they looked not unlike them - nevertheless, this time, formally since the first sight of the guard Franz, he was determined not to give up the slightest advantage he might have over these people. K. saw only a slight danger in the fact that one would later say that he didn't know how to have fun. But he did remember - without it otherwise having been his habit to learn from experience - some, in themselves insignificant cases in which, unlike his friends, he had consciously behaved carelessly without the slightest sense of the possible consequences and had been punished by the result. It shouldn't happen again, at least not this time; if it was a comedy, he wanted to play along.
He was still free. "Allow me," he said, and hurried between the guards to his room. "He seems reasonable," he heard said behind him. In his room, he immediately opened the drawers of his desk. Everything was in great order there, but in his excitement he could not immediately find the identification papers he was looking for. Finally he found his bicycle license and was about to go to the guards with it, but then the paper seemed too insignificant to him and he searched further until he found the birth certificate. When he returned to the next room, the door opposite opened and Mrs. Grubach was about to enter. She was only seen for a moment, because as soon as she recognized K., she seemed embarrassed, apologized, and disappeared, closing the door very carefully. "Come in," K. had just managed to say. But now he stood with his papers in the middle of the room, still looking at the door, which did not open again, and was only startled by a call from the guards, who were sitting at the table by the open window and, as K. now recognized, were eating his breakfast. "Why didn't she come in?" he asked. "She's not allowed to," said the tall guard. "You're under arrest." "How can I be arrested? And in this way?" "Now you're starting again," said the guard, dipping a sandwich into the honey jug. "We don't answer such questions." "You'll have to answer them," said K. "Here are my credentials. Now show me yours, and especially the warrant." "Good heavens!" said the guard. "That you can't accept your situation and that you seem to be deliberately trying to annoy us, who are probably the people closest to you now of all your fellow human beings?" "It's true, believe it," said Franz, not lifting the coffee cup he was holding to his mouth, but looking at K. with a long, probably meaningful, but incomprehensible look. Without meaning to, K. engaged in a dialogue of glances with Franz, but then he slammed down his papers and said, "Here are my credentials." "What do we care about them?" shouted the tall guard. "You're acting more like a child than a grown man. What do you want? Do you want to bring your great, cursed trial to a swift end by discussing legitimization and arrest warrants with us, the guards? We are low-level employees who are hardly familiar with legitimization papers and who have nothing to do with your cause other than keeping watch over you for ten hours a day and getting paid for it. That is all we are, but despite that we are able to recognize that the high authorities in whose service we stand, before they order such an arrest, inform themselves very precisely about the reasons for the arrest and the person of the arrested. There is no mistake in this. Our authority, as far as I know it, and I only know the lowest degrees, does not seek blame in the population, but is attracted by guilt, as it is written in the law, and must send us guards. That is the law. Where would there be a mistake?" "I don't know that law," said K. "Too bad for you," said the guard. "It probably only exists in your heads," said K., trying to somehow worm his way into the guards' thoughts, to turn them in his favor or to become established there. But the guard only said dismissively, "You'll get it." Franz intervened and said, "Look, Willem, he admits he doesn't know the law, and at the same time claims to be innocent." "You're quite right, but you can't make him understand anything," said the other. K. said nothing more; "Must I," he thought, "let myself be further confused by the chatter of these lowest organs - they themselves admit that they are such?" They talk, in any case, about things they don't understand at all. Their certainty is only possible because of their stupidity. A few words that I will speak with a person of my own caliber will make everything incomparably clearer than the longest speeches with these. He walked up and down a few times in the open space of the room. Over there he saw the old woman, who had dragged an even older man to the window, whom she held in her arms. K. had to put an end to this display: "Take me to your superior," he said. "If he so wishes; not before," said the guard, who had been called Willem. "And now I advise you," he added, "to go to your room, remain calm and wait for what will be decided about you. We advise you not to waste your time with useless thoughts, but to gather your thoughts, as great demands will be made on you. You have not treated us as our courtesy deserved, you have forgotten that we may be whatever we are, but at least now we are free men in your presence, and that is no small advantage. Nevertheless, if you have money, we are willing to bring you a small breakfast from the coffee house over there."
Without answering this offer, K. stood still for a while. Perhaps if he opened the door of the next room or even the door of the anteroom, the two would not dare to prevent him, perhaps it would be the simplest solution of all for him to push it to the limit. But perhaps they would seize him after all, and once he was overthrown, all the ascendancy which he still maintained over them in some respects would be lost. Therefore, he preferred the certainty of the solution that the natural course of events would bring, and went back to his room without either him or the guards saying another word.
He threw himself on his bed and took from the washstand a nice apple that he had prepared for breakfast the night before. Now it was his only breakfast and, in any case, as he assured himself with the first big bite, much better than the breakfast from the dirty night café that he could have gotten through the mercy of the guards. He felt well and confident. He skipped work at the bank this morning, but that was easily excused given the relatively high position he held there. Should he give the real excuse? He thought he would. If they didn't believe him, which was understandable in this case, he could call Mrs. Grubach as a witness or even the two old men from across the way, who were probably on their way to the opposite window. It surprised K., or at least it surprised him from the point of view of the guards, that they had driven him into the room and left him alone here, when he had tenfold opportunities to kill himself. At the same time, however, he asked himself, this time from his point of view, what reason he could have to do it. Perhaps because the two were sitting next door and had intercepted his breakfast? It would have been such a senseless thing to do that even if he had wanted to kill himself, the futility of it would have prevented him from doing it. If the mental limitations of the guards had not been so obvious, one could have assumed that they too, in the same conviction, would have seen no danger in leaving him alone. They might now, if they chose, watch him go to a small cupboard where he kept a good brandy, empty a glass to replace breakfast, and designate a second glass to give him courage, the latter only out of caution for the unlikely event that it should be necessary.
Then a shout from the next room startled him so much that he clicked his teeth on the glass. "The warden is calling you!" it meant. It was only the shouting that frightened him, this short, choppy, military shouting, which he would not have trusted the guard Franz with. The command itself was very welcome to him. "Finally!" he called back, locked the closet and immediately rushed to the next room. There the two guards were standing and chased him back to his room as if that were a matter of course. "What are you thinking?" they shouted. "You want to go to the supervisor half-dressed? He'll have you flogged and us along with you!" "Let me go, damn you!" shouted K., who had already been pushed back to his wardrobe. "If you attack me in bed, you can't expect to find me in my festive attire." "It doesn't help," said the guards, who always became quite calm, almost sad, when K. shouted, and thus confused him or, in a sense, brought him to his senses. "Ridiculous ceremonies!" he grumbled, but he was already lifting a coat off the chair and holding it for a while with both hands, as if he were submitting it to the judgment of the guards. They shook their heads. "It must be a black coat," they said. K. then threw the coat on the floor and said - he himself did not know in what sense he said it -: "But it's not the main trial yet." The guards smiled, but stuck to their: "It must be a black coat." "If I can speed things up by doing this, it's fine by me," said K., opening the wardrobe himself, searching among the many clothes for a long time, choosing his best black dress, a jacket dress that had caused quite a stir among acquaintances due to his waistline, and now also pulling out a different shirt and starting to dress carefully. Secretly he believed he had speeded up the whole process by the fact that the guards had forgotten to order him to the bath. He watched them to see if they might remember it, but of course it didn't occur to them. Willem, however, didn't forget to send Franz to the overseer with the message that K. was dressing.
When he was fully dressed, he had to walk just in front of Willem through the empty adjoining room into the next room, the door of which was already open with both wings. K. knew that this room had been occupied for a short time by a Miss Burstner, a typist who usually went to work very early and came home late and with whom K. had exchanged little more than greetings. Now the bedside table had been moved from her bed to the middle of the room as a negotiating table, and the supervisor was sitting behind it. He had his legs crossed and one arm on the back of the chair.
In a corner of the room stood three young people, looking at photographs of Miss Burstner stuck in a mat hung on the wall. On the handle of the open window hung a white blouse. In the opposite window the two old men were lying down again, but their company had increased, for behind them, towering over them, stood a man with an open shirt at the chest, pressing and twisting his reddish goatee with his fingers. "Josef K?", the overseer asked, perhaps only to draw K.'s distracted gaze. K. nodded. "You must be very surprised by the events of this morning?" the guard asked, moving the few objects that were lying on the bedside table with both hands - a candle with a match, a book and a needle cushion - as if they were objects that he needed for the proceedings. "Certainly," said K., and a feeling of well-being took hold of him at last to be standing opposite a reasonable man and to be able to speak with him about his matter. "Certainly, I am surprised, but I am not very surprised at all." "Not very surprised?" asked the overseer, and now he put the candle in the middle of the little table, while he grouped the other things around it. "You perhaps misunderstand me," K. hastened to remark. "I mean" - here K. interrupted himself and looked around for a chair. "I can sit down, can't I?" he asked. "It's not usual," the overseer replied. "I mean," K. said without further pause, "I am very surprised, but when you've been in the world for thirty years and had to fend for yourself, as I have, you become hardened to surprises and don't take them too hard. Especially not today's." "Why especially not today?" "I don't want to say that I see the whole thing as a joke, for that the events that have been organized seem too extensive. All the members of the pension would have to be involved, and all of you too, that would go beyond the bounds of a joke. So I don't want to say that it's a joke." "Quite right," said the overseer, checking how many matches were in the matchbox. "On the other hand," K. continued, turning to everyone and would have liked to have turned even to the three by the photographs, "on the other hand, the matter can't be very important either. I conclude that from the fact that I am being accused, but I cannot find the slightest fault on which I could be accused. But that is also unimportant. The main question is, by whom am I accused? Which authority is conducting the proceedings? Are you officials? None of you are wearing a uniform, unless you want to call your clothes a uniform," he said, turning to Franz, "but it's more of a traveling suit. I demand clarity on this matter, and I am convinced that after this clarification we can part on the warmest of terms." The guard slammed the matchbox down on the table. "You are under a great misapprehension," he said. "These gentlemen and I are quite extraneous to your business, and we know almost nothing about it. We might be in the most regular of uniforms, and your case would be no worse for it. I can't tell you that you are accused, or rather, I don't know if you are. You are arrested, that is all, and no more than that. Maybe the guards have blabbed, but then it was just idle gossip. If I don't answer your questions either, I can still advise you to think less about us and what will happen to you, and more about yourself. And don't make such a fuss about your innocence; it disturbs the not exactly bad impression you otherwise make. You should also be more reserved in your speech. Almost everything you said earlier could have been inferred from your behavior if you had said only a few words. Besides, it was not particularly favorable for you."
K. stared at the warden. Was he being taught school lessons here by a possibly younger person? Was he being punished for his candor? And was he not to be told the reason for his arrest or who had ordered it? He became somewhat agitated, pacing back and forth, which no one stopped him from doing, pushing back his cuffs, feeling his chest, straightening his hair, passing the three gentlemen, saying, "It's useless," whereupon they turned to him and looked at him sympathetically but seriously, and finally he stopped again in front of the supervisor's desk. "The district attorney Hasterer is my good friend," he said. "Can I use the telephone?" "Certainly," said the overseer, "but I don't see what sense there could be in it, unless it's that you have some private business to discuss with him." "What sense?" cried K., more taken aback than annoyed. "Who are you, then? You want some sense and you're performing the most senseless thing there is? Isn't it enough to crush me? The gentlemen attacked me first, and now they are sitting or standing here and making me go through the high school in front of you. What sense would it have to call a public prosecutor if I am supposedly arrested? All right, I won't call." "But yes," said the guard, stretching out his hand to the anteroom where the telephone was, "please, call." "No, I don't want to anymore," said K. and went to the window. The party was still standing by the window on the other side and only now seemed a little disturbed by K.'s approach to the window in the calm of their watching. The old men wanted to get up, but the man behind them calmed them. "There are also such spectators there," K. called out to the guard quite loudly and pointed with his index finger. "Get away from there," he shouted. The three of them immediately took a few steps back, the two old men even further behind the man, who covered them with his broad body and, judging by the movements of his mouth, said something incomprehensible at that distance. But they did not disappear completely, but seemed to be waiting for the moment when they could approach the window again unnoticed. "Intrusive, inconsiderate people!" K. said when he turned back into the room. The overseer possibly agreed with him, as K. thought he recognized from a sidelong glance. But it was just as possible that he hadn't listened at all, because he had one hand firmly pressed on the table and seemed to be comparing fingers lengthwise. The two guards sat on a suitcase covered with a decorative blanket and rubbed their knees. The three young people had put their hands on their hips and looked around aimlessly. It was as quiet as in some forgotten office. "Well, gentlemen," shouted K., "it seemed to him for a moment as if he was carrying everyone on his shoulders. "From the way you look, my business should be finished. I think it best not to think about the justification or non-justification of your actions and to give the matter a conciliatory conclusion with a mutual handshake. If you agree with me, then please -" and he went to the overseer's table and extended his hand. The overseer raised his eyes, bit his lip, and looked at K.'s outstretched hand; K. still thought the overseer would shake hands. But the overseer stood up, took a hard, round hat that was lying on Fräulein Bürstner's bed, and carefully put it on with both hands, as one does when trying on new hats. "How simple everything seems to you!" he said to K. "We should give the matter a conciliatory conclusion, you mean?" "No, no, that really won't do. On the other hand, I don't want to say that you should despair. No, why should you? You're only arrested, nothing more. That's what I had to tell you, I've done it and I've also seen how you've taken it. That's enough for today and we can say goodbye, but only for the time being. You probably want to go to the bank now?" "To the bank?" asked K., "I thought I was arrested." K. asked with a certain defiance, because although his handshake had not been accepted, he felt, especially since the overseer had stood up, increasingly independent of all these people. He was toying with them. He intended to follow them to the bank's gate and offer to arrest them, should they leave. That's why he repeated, "How can I go into the bank when I'm under arrest?" "Oh," said the inspector, who was already at the door, "you misunderstood me. You are arrested, certainly, but that should not prevent you from fulfilling your profession. You should also not be prevented from leading your usual way of life." "Then being arrested is not very bad," said K. and walked close to the inspector. "But then it doesn't even seem to have been necessary to notify me of the arrest," said K., moving even closer. The others had also approached. Everyone was now gathered in a small space near the door. "It was my duty," said the overseer. "A stupid duty," said K. unyieldingly. "Maybe so," replied the overseer, "but we don't want to waste our time with such talk. I had assumed that you wanted to go to the bank. Since you are watching every word, I'll add: I'm not forcing you to go to the bank, I just assumed that you wanted to. And to make it easier for you and to make your arrival at the bank as inconspicuous as possible, I have put these three gentlemen, your colleagues, at your disposal." "How?" cried K., gazing in wonder at the three. These uncharacteristic, anemic young men, whom he still only remembered from the photographs as a group, were in fact officials from his bank, not colleagues, which was too much to say, and proved a gap in the omniscience of the overseer, but they were indeed junior officials from the bank. How could K. have overlooked this? How could he have accepted the overseer and the guards so much that he didn't recognize these three! Stiff-backed Rabensteiner, swinging his hands, blond Kullich with deep-set eyes, and Kaminer with an obnoxious smile caused by a chronic muscle strain. "Good morning," said K. after a while and shook hands with the gentlemen, who bowed correctly. "I didn't recognize you. So now we'll get to work, right?" The gentlemen nodded, laughing and eager, as if they had been waiting for this the whole time. Only when K. missed his hat, which had been left in his room, did they all run one after the other to get it, which at least suggested a certain embarrassment. K. stood still and watched them through the two open doors, the last one, of course, being the indifferent Rabensteiner, who merely trotted along in an elegant manner. Kaminer handed over the hat, and K. had to remind himself expressly, as was often necessary in the bank, that Kaminer's smile was unintentional, and that he was generally unable to smile on purpose. In the hallway Mrs. Grubach, who didn't look particularly guilty, opened the door to the apartment to the entire party. K. looked down, as he often did, at her apron string, which cut so unnecessarily deeply into her ample body. Downstairs, K., the watch in his hand, decided to take an automobile so as not to increase his already half-hour delay unnecessarily. Kaminer ran to the corner to get the car, the other two were obviously trying to distract K. when suddenly Kullich pointed to the opposite house door, where the tall man with the blond goatee had just appeared. At first he seemed a little embarrassed that he was now showing himself in all his glory, so he stepped back to the wall and leaned against it. The old people were still on the stairs. K. was annoyed with Kullich for drawing attention to the man he had seen before, and whom he had even been expecting. "Don't look!" he exclaimed, not realizing how conspicuous such a way of speaking was to independent men. But no explanation was necessary, because the automobile was just coming, they sat down and drove off. Then K. remembered that he hadn't noticed the departure of the overseer and the guards; the overseer had hidden the three officials from him, and now the officials had hidden the overseer. This was not a very quick-witted thing to do, and K. resolved to observe himself more closely in this regard. But he still turned around involuntarily and leaned over the back deck of the automobile to see the guard and the guardsmen. But he immediately turned back and leaned comfortably into the corner of the car without even trying to look for anyone. Although it didn't appear so, he would have needed encouragement right now, but now the gentlemen seemed tired. Rabensteiner looked out of the carriage on the right, Kullich on the left, and only Kaminer was available with his grin, which unfortunately humanity forbade making fun of.
In the spring, K. used to spend his evenings in the following way: after work, if it was still possible – he usually sat in the office until nine – he would take a short walk alone or with officials and then go to a beer hall, where he would usually sit at a table with older gentlemen until eleven o'clock. There were exceptions to this routine, however, for example when the bank director, who held K.'s work and trustworthiness in high regard, invited him for a drive or dinner at his villa. In addition, K. went once a week to a girl named Elsa, who worked as a waitress in a wine bar during the night until late in the morning and only received visitors from her bed during the day.
But this evening – the day had passed quickly with hard work and many honorable and friendly birthday wishes – K. wanted to go home immediately. During all the short breaks in his daily work he had thought about it; without knowing exactly what he meant, it seemed to him that a great disorder had been caused in the whole apartment of Mrs. Grubach by the incidents of the morning and that he was needed to restore order. But once this order was restored, every trace of those incidents was erased and everything resumed its old course. In particular, there was nothing to fear from the three officials; they had been reabsorbed into the large body of officials at the bank, and no change could be seen in them. K. had often summoned them individually and together to his office for no other purpose than to observe them; he had always been able to release them satisfied.
When he arrived at the house where he lived at half past nine at night, he met a young fellow in the front door, standing with his legs apart and smoking a pipe. "Who are you?" K. asked immediately, bringing his face close to the lad's, you couldn't see much in the semi-darkness of the hallway. "I'm the caretaker's son, sir," the lad replied, taking the pipe out of his mouth and stepping aside. "The caretaker's son?" K. asked, impatiently tapping the floor with his cane. "Does the kind sir require something? Shall I call the father?" "No, no," said K., his voice taking on a forgiving tone, as if the lad had done something bad, but he would forgive him. "It's all right," he said, and then went on, but before he climbed the stairs, he turned around once more.
He could have gone straight to his room, but since he wanted to speak to Mrs. Grubach, he knocked on her door. She was sitting at the table with a knitting project and a pile of old stockings. K. absentmindedly apologized for being so late, but Mrs. Grubach was very friendly and didn't want to hear any excuse. She was always available for him, he knew very well that he was her best and dearest tenant. K. looked around the room, it was completely back to its old state, the breakfast dishes that had been on the table by the window early in the morning had already been put away. "Women's hands can do a lot of work in secret," he thought. He would have been able to smash the dishes on the spot, but certainly not carry them out. He looked at Mrs. Grubach with a certain gratitude. "Why are you still working so late?" he asked. They were now both sitting at the table, and K. buried his hand in his stockings from time to time. "There's a lot of work to be done," she said, "during the day I belong to the tenants; if I want to get my things in order, the evenings are the only time left for me." "I suppose I gave you some unusual work to do today?" "What do you mean?" she asked, becoming a little more eager, the work resting in her lap. "I mean the men who were here this morning." "Oh," she said, returning to her calm, "that didn't cause me any special work." K. watched silently as she picked up the knitting again. She seems surprised that I'm talking about it, he thought, she doesn't seem to think it's right that I'm talking about it. It's all the more important that I do. I can only talk about it with an old woman. "But it certainly made it work," he said, "but it won't happen again." "No, it can't happen again," she said, affirming, and smiled at K. almost wistfully. "Do you really mean that?" asked K. "Yes," she said more softly, "but above all, you mustn't take it too hard. There are so many things going on in the world! Since you are speaking so intimately with me, Mr. K., I can indeed admit to you that I listened a little behind the door and that the two guards also told me a few things. It is, after all, about your happiness, and that is really close to my heart, more than perhaps I should be, since I am only the landlady. Well, I have heard a few things, but I can't say that anything was particularly bad. No. They are arrested, but not arrested like a thief. If you are arrested like a thief, it is bad, but this arrest – It seems to me like something learned, excuse me if I say something stupid, it seems to me like something learned that I don't understand, but you don't have to understand it either."
"There's nothing foolish about what you've said, Mrs. Grubach, at least I agree with you to some extent, only I judge the whole thing even more harshly than you do and I don't even consider it to be something learned, but nothing at all. I was taken by surprise, that's what it was. If I had got up right after waking up, without being put off by Anna's absence, and gone to you regardless of anyone who might have crossed my path, I would havehad breakfast in the kitchen, had you bring me the clothes from my room, in short, had I acted sensibly, nothing would have happened, everything would have been nipped in the bud. But one is so rarely prepared. In the bank, for example, I am prepared; something like that could never happen to me there. I have my own servant there, the general telephone and the office telephone are right in front of me on the table, people, parties and officials are always coming, but above all, I am always in the context of work there, so I am alert. It would be a real pleasure for me to be confronted with such a thing there. Well, it's over and I didn't really want to talk about it anymore, I just wanted to hear your opinion, the opinion of a reasonable woman, and I'm very glad that we agree. Now you have to shake my hand, such an agreement must be confirmed with a handshake."
Would she shake hands with me? The overseer didn't shake hands with me, he thought, and looked at the woman differently than before, scrutinizingly. She stood up because he had stood up too. She was a little embarrassed because she hadn't understood everything K. had said. As a result of this embarrassment, however, she said something she hadn't wanted to say and which was also out of place: "Don't take it so hard, Mr. K.," she said, with tears in her voice, and of course she also forgot the handshake. "I don't know that I'm taking it hard," said K., suddenly tired and realizing the worthlessness of all the woman's approval.
At the door he asked, "Is Miss Burstner at home?" "No," said Mrs. Grubach, smiling at this dry piece of information with a belated, reasonable interest. "She's at the theater. Did you want something from her? Should I give her a message?" "Oh, I just wanted to talk to her for a few words." "Unfortunately I don't know when she'll be back; when she is at the theater she usually comes late." "That's all the same," said K., and with his head bowed he turned to face the door and was about to leave, "I just wanted to apologize to her for taking her room today." "That's not necessary, Mr. K. You're too considerate. The young lady doesn't know anything about it. She hasn't been home since early morning. Everything's been taken care of. See for yourself." And she opened the door to Miss Burstner's room. "Thank you, I believe it," said K., but then went to the open door anyway. The moon shone quietly into the dark room. As far as one could see, everything really was in its place, not even the blouse was hanging on the window handle anymore. The cushions in the bed seemed strikingly high, they were partly in the moonlight. "The young lady often comes home late," said K., looking at Mrs. Grubach as if she were responsible for it. "That's how young people are!" said Mrs. Grubach apologetically. "Certainly, certainly," said K., "but it can go too far." "It can," said Mrs. Grubach, "how right you are, Mr. K. Perhaps even in this case. I certainly don't want to slander Miss Burstner, she's a good, dear girl, friendly, tidy, punctual, hardworking, I appreciate all that very much, but one thing is true, she should be more proud, more reserved. I have seen her twice this month in remote streets and always with a different gentleman. I am very embarrassed to tell you, Mr. K., but it cannot be avoided that I also speak to the young lady herself about it. Besides, it is not the only thing that makes me suspicious of her." "You are on the completely wrong path," said K. angrily and almost unable to hide it, "besides, you have obviously misunderstood my remark about the young lady, I didn't mean it that way. I even sincerely warn you not to say a word to the young lady, you are quite mistaken, I know the young lady very well, there is nothing of what you said that is true. Besides, perhaps I'm going too far, I won't stop you from telling her what you want. Good night." "Mr. K.," said Mrs. Grubach imploringly, hurrying after K. to his door, which he had already opened, "I don't want to talk to the young lady yet, of course I want to observe her more before that, but I've told you what I knew. After all, it must be in the interest of every tenant if the pension is kept clean, and that is my only concern." "Cleanliness!" K. shouted through the crack of the door, "if you want to keep the pension clean, you have to give me notice first." Then he slammed the door, ignoring a soft knock.
On the other hand, since he had no desire to sleep, he decided to stay awake and take this opportunity to find out when Miss Burstner would be coming. Perhaps then, however inappropriate it might be, it would be possible to exchange a few words with her. As he lay in the window and closed his tired eyes, he even thought for a moment of punishing Mrs. Grubach and persuading Miss Burstner to give notice with him. But at once he felt that this would be an extreme measure, and he even suspected himself of harboring the idea of changing his lodgings on account of the morning's experiences. Nothing could have been more absurd and, above all, more futile and contemptible.
When he had grown tired of gazing out at the empty street, he lay down on the sofa, after opening the door to the anteroom a little, so that he could see anyone who entered the apartment right away from the sofa. He lay quietly on the sofa, smoking a cigar, until about eleven o'clock. From then on, however, he couldn't stand it there any longer, but went a little way into the hall, as if he could hasten the arrival of Miss Burstner by doing so. He had no particular desire for her, he couldn't even remember exactly what she looked like, but now he wanted to talk to her and it excited him that she, by coming so late, would bring disorder and unrest to the end of this day. She was also to blame for the fact that he had not eaten dinner today and that he had refrained from visiting Elsa, as he had intended to do today. However, he could still make up for both by going to the wine bar where Elsa worked. He also wanted to do it later, after his conversation with Miss Bürstner.
It was half past eleven when someone could be heard in the stairwell. K., who, lost in thought, was pacing back and forth in the anteroom as if it were his own room, quickly retreated behind his door. It was Miss Bürstner who had arrived. Shivering, she pulled a silk scarf tightly around her slender shoulders as she locked the door. In the next moment, she would have to go into her room, into which K. certainly could not intrude at midnight; he had to speak to her now, but unfortunately, he had neglected to turn on the electric light in his room, so stepping out of the dark room gave the impression of an ambush and was bound to startle her. In his helplessness, and as there was no time to lose, he whispered through the crack of the door: "Miss Bürstner." It sounded like a plea, not a call. "Is someone here?" asked Miss Bürstner, looking around with wide eyes. "It’s me," said K., stepping forward. "Oh, Mr. K.!" said Miss Bürstner, smiling. "Good evening," and she extended her hand to him. "I wanted to have a few words with you; will you allow me to do so now?" "Now?" asked Miss Bürstner, "does it have to be now? It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?" "I’ve been waiting for you since nine o’clock." "Well, I was at the theater; I didn’t know anything about you." "The reason for what I want to tell you only came up today." "I see. Well, I have no fundamental objection, except that I’m so tired I could collapse. So come into my room for a few minutes. We couldn’t possibly talk here; we’d wake everyone, and that would be more unpleasant for me than for the others. Wait here until I’ve turned on the light in my room, and then turn off the light here." K. did as she said but waited until Miss Bürstner softly called him into her room again. "Sit down," she said, pointing to the ottoman. She herself remained standing by the bedpost despite the fatigue she had mentioned; she didn’t even take off her small hat, which was adorned with an abundance of flowers. "So, what did you want? I’m really curious." She crossed her legs lightly. "You might say," K. began, "that the matter wasn’t urgent enough to discuss now, but—" "I always skip introductions," said Miss Bürstner. "That makes my task easier," said K. "Your room was put into a bit of disarray this morning, somewhat through my fault. It happened through strangers, against my will, and yet, as I said, through my fault; for that, I wanted to apologize." "My room?" asked Miss Bürstner, looking at K. scrutinizingly instead of at the room. "That’s how it is," said K., and now, for the first time, they looked each other in the eyes. "The manner in which it happened isn’t worth a word in itself." "But it’s the most interesting part," said Miss Bürstner. "No," said K. "Well," said Miss Bürstner, "I won’t intrude on secrets. If you insist it’s uninteresting, I won’t argue. I gladly accept your apology, especially since I can’t find a trace of disorder." She placed her flat hands on her hips and made a round of the room. She stopped at the mat with the photographs. "Look at this!" she exclaimed. "My photographs are really all jumbled up. That’s awful. So someone unauthorized has been in my room." K. nodded and silently cursed the clerk Kaminer, who could never restrain his dull, senseless liveliness. "It’s strange," said Miss Bürstner, "that I’m forced to forbid you something you should forbid yourself, namely entering my room in my absence." "But I explained to you, Miss," said K., also walking over to the photographs, "that it wasn’t me who tampered with your photographs. But since you don’t believe me, I must admit that the investigation commission brought three bank clerks with them, one of whom, whom I’ll dismiss from the bank at the next opportunity, probably handled the photographs. Yes, there was an investigation commission here," K. added, as the young lady looked at him questioningly. "Because of you?" she asked. "Yes," K. replied. "No!" exclaimed the young lady, laughing. "Yes," said K., "do you think I’m innocent?" "Well, innocent..." said the young lady, "I don’t want to pass a potentially consequential judgment right away, and I don’t really know you. It must be a serious criminal to have an investigation commission sent after them. But since you’re free—I assume from your composure that you haven’t escaped from prison—you can’t have committed such a crime." "Yes," said K., "but the investigation commission might have realized that I’m innocent or at least not as guilty as they initially thought." "Of course, that’s possible," said Miss Bürstner, very attentively. "You see," said K., "you don’t have much experience with legal matters." "No, I don’t," said Miss Bürstner, "and I’ve often regretted it because I want to know everything, and legal matters interest me immensely. The law has a peculiar allure, doesn’t it? But I’ll certainly expand my knowledge in this area, as I’m starting work as a clerk in a law office next month." "That’s very good," said K., "then you can help me a little with my case." "That could be," said Miss Bürstner, "why not? I like to use my knowledge." "I mean it seriously," said K., "or at least as seriously as you do. The matter is too trivial to involve a lawyer, but I could use an advisor." "Yes, but if I’m to be an advisor, I’d need to know what it’s about," said Miss Bürstner. "That’s the catch," said K., "I don’t know myself." "So you’ve been making fun of me," said Miss Bürstner, overly disappointed, "and it was completely unnecessary to choose this late hour for it." And she moved away from the photographs, where they had been standing together for so long. "But no, Miss," said K., "I’m not joking. Why won’t you believe me? What I know, I’ve already told you. Even more than I know, because it wasn’t even an investigation commission; I call it that because I don’t know any other name for it. Nothing was investigated; I was merely arrested, but by a commission." Miss Bürstner sat on the ottoman and laughed again. "How did it happen?" she asked. "Terribly," said K., but he wasn’t thinking about it at all now; he was entirely captivated by the sight of Miss Bürstner, who rested her face on one hand—the elbow propped on the ottoman’s cushion—while the other hand slowly stroked her hip. "That’s too vague," said Miss Bürstner. "What’s too vague?" asked K. Then he remembered and asked, "Shall I show you how it happened?" He wanted to move but not leave. "I’m already tired," said Miss Bürstner. "You came so late," said K. "Now it ends with me being reproached, and it’s justified because I shouldn’t have let you in anymore. It wasn’t necessary, as it turned out." "It was necessary; you’ll see that now," said K. "May I move the nightstand from your bed?" "What are you thinking?" said Miss Bürstner, "of course you may not!" "Then I can’t show you," said K., agitated, as if this caused him immense harm. "Well, if you need it for the demonstration, then go ahead and move the table," said Miss Bürstner, and after a moment added in a weaker voice, "I’m so tired that I’m allowing more than I should." K. placed the table in the middle of the room and sat behind it. "You have to imagine the arrangement of the people correctly; it’s very interesting. I’m the supervisor; over there on the trunk sit two guards; by the photographs stand three young men. Hanging from the window latch, which I mention only in passing, is a white blouse. And now it begins. Oh, I’m forgetting myself. The most important person, that is, me, stands here in front of the table. The supervisor sits extremely comfortably, legs crossed, arm hanging over the backrest, a complete lout. And now it really begins. The supervisor calls out as if he has to wake me up; he practically shouts. Unfortunately, if I want to make it clear to you, I also have to shout; it’s only my name he shouts, by the way." Miss Bürstner, who was listening with laughter, put her finger to her lips to stop K. from shouting, but it was too late. K. was too much in character; he called out slowly, "Josef K.!" not as loudly as he had threatened, but still loud enough that the call, once suddenly uttered, seemed to spread gradually through the room.
Then there was a knock at the door of the next room, several times, strong, short and regular. Miss Burstner turned pale and put her hand on her heart. K. was particularly frightened because for a while he had been unable to think of anything other than the events of the morning and the girl to whom he was relating them. He had hardly composed himself before he jumped up to Miss Bürstner and took her hand. "Don't be afraid," he whispered, "I'll fix everything. But who could it be? There's only the living room next to it, and no one sleeps there." "Yes, there is," Miss Bürstner whispered in K.'s ear, "since yesterday a nephew of Mrs. Grubach's, a captain, has been sleeping here. There's no other room available. I forgot too. You didn't have to scream!" "I'm sorry." "There's no reason for that," said K., and kissed her forehead as she sank back onto the pillow. "Go away, go away," she said, and hurriedly sat up again. "Why don't you go, why are you here, he's listening at the door, he hears everything. How you torture me!" "I won't leave," said K., "until you're a little calmer. Come over to the other side of the room, where he can't hear us." She allowed herself to be led there. "You're not thinking," he said, "that while this is an inconvenience for you, it is by no means a danger. You know how Mrs. Grubach, who is the one who decides in this matter, especially since the Captain is her nephew, really admires me and believes everything I say unquestioningly. She also depends on me for other things, because she has borrowed a large sum of money from me. I will accept any suggestion you may have for an explanation for our gathering, if it is even a little appropriate, and I promise to get Mrs. Grubach to believe the explanation not only in front of the public, but truly and sincerely. You don't have to go easy on me at all. If you want it spread that I attacked you, then Mrs. Grubach will be informed of this and she will believe it, without losing her trust in me, she depends on me so much." Miss Bürstner sat quietly, a little huddled, looking at the floor. "Why shouldn't Mrs. Grubach believe that I attacked you?" K. added. He saw her hair, parted in the middle, low on her head, and held firmly in place. He thought she would look up at him, but she said, "Excuse me, I was so frightened by the sudden knocking, not so much by the consequences for the Captain's visit. It was so quiet after your scream, and then there was a knock, so I was startled. I was also sitting near the door, it was almost next to me. I thank you for your suggestions, but I will not accept them. I can take responsibility for everything that happens in my room, and to everyone. I am surprised that you do not realize what an insult your suggestions are to me, apart from the good intentions, of course, which I certainly recognize. But now go, leave me alone, I need it more now than before. The few minutes you asked for have now become half an hour and more." K. took her by the hand and then by the wrist: "You are not angry with me?" he said. She brushed his hand away and replied, "No, no, I am never angry with anyone." He took hold of her wrist again, she tolerated it this time and led him to the door. He was determined to leave. But at the door, as though he hadn't expected to find a door there, he hesitated. Miss Burstner used this moment to free herself, open the door, slip into the hall, and from there say softly to K.: "Now come, please. Look," she said, pointing to the captain's door, where a light was coming on, "he's lit a lamp and is entertaining himself with us." "I'm coming," said K., and ran forward, seized her, kissed her on the mouth and then all over her face, like a thirsty animal lapping at last found spring water with its tongue. Finally he kissed her on the neck, where the throat is, and there he let his lips remain for a long time. A noise from the captain's room made him look up. "I'll be going now," he said, wanting to call upon Miss Burstner by her Christian name, but not knowing what it was. She nodded wearily, half turned away, and left him her hand to kiss, as though she didn't know what was happening. Shortly afterwards, K. was lying in his bed. He fell asleep very quickly. Before he fell asleep, he thought for a while about his behavior. He was satisfied with it, but wondered why he wasn't even more satisfied. He was seriously worried about Miss Burstner because of the Captain.
