by Franz Kafka
“And she dismissed her domestic staff?” asked Karl.
“You’re quite right,” said Robinson. “For where could they house the servants? As for those servants, they’re certainly a demanding lot. Once at Brunelda’s, Delamarche drove one such servant from the room by slapping him repeatedly until he was outside. The other servants naturally took his side and began to make a racket outside the door, then Delamarche came out (though I wasn’t a servant then but rather a friend of the house, they put me in with the servants) and asked: ‘What do you want?’ The oldest servant, a certain Isidor, said: ‘You cannot say anything to us since it’s Madame who’s our mistress.’ As you’ve probably noticed, they greatly admired Brunelda. But ignoring them, Brunelda ran over to Delamarche—she was not so heavy yet—hugged him in front of everyone, kissed him, and called him ‘dearest Delamarche.’ ‘And do send these apes away at once,’ she said at last. Apes—that was what she called the servants; you can imagine their faces when they heard that. Then Brunelda steered Delamarche’s hand to the purse she had on her belt, Delamarche reached inside and began to pay off the servants; Brunelda merely stood there with her purse open. Delamarche had to reach inside quite often, for he handed out the money without counting it or checking the servants’ claims. At last he said: ‘Well, since you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll simply say this on behalf of Brunelda: “Clear off at once.” ’ That’s how the servants were dismissed; there were a few court cases, Delmarche even had to appear in court once, but I don’t have any specific information about that. After the servants had left, though, Delamarche said to Brunelda: ‘But now you don’t have any servants?’ She said: ‘Well, there’s always Robinson.’ At that Delamarche slapped me on the shoulder and said: ‘So you’ll be our servant.’ And Brunelda gave me a little tap on the cheek; if you ever have the opportunity, Rossmann, ask her to give you a little tap on the cheek, you’ll be amazed how lovely it is.”
“So you became Delamarche’s servant?” said Karl, summarizing what Robinson had said.
Overhearing a sympathetic note in the question, Robinson answered: “I’m a servant, but few people notice this. You yourself didn’t know, even though you’ve been with us for a while. You saw how I was dressed at the hotel that night. I wore the finest of the fine—do servants go about dressed like that? I cannot go away often, you see, for I always have to be at hand in this household, there’s always something that needs to be done. One person isn’t enough for all the work. As you may have noticed, there are still quite a few of our belongings lying about in that room, everything we couldn’t sell during the big move we had to take along. Of course, they could have been given away, but Brunelda never gives anything away. Just think how much work it took to carry all those things up the stairs.”
“Robinson, you carried all that upstairs?” cried Karl.
“Who else?” said Robinson. “There was a laborer too, but he was a lazy bum, and I had to do most of the work on my own. Brunelda was below by the car, Delamarche upstairs explaining where everything had to be put, and I was running up and down the entire time. It took two days—that’s a long time, isn’t it? But you’ve no idea how many things there are in that room, all the closets are full, and the rest is piled up to the ceiling behind the closets. If they’d hired a couple of people to transport all of that, it would all have been done quickly, but Brunelda wouldn’t entrust the task to anyone but me. Well, that was very nice, but now I’ve ruined my health for the rest of my life, and what did I have other than my health? If I exert myself ever so slightly, I get a pain there and here. If I were healthy, do you think those boys in the hotel, those grass toads—what else would one call them?—could possibly have defeated me. But no matter what’s wrong with me, I won’t breathe a word to Delamarche and Brunelda; I’ll work as long as possible, and until it’s not possible anymore, then I’ll lie down and die, and only then, when it’s too late, will they see that, though I was sick, I was still working, always working, and that I actually worked myself to death in their service. Oh Rossmann,” he concluded, drying his eyes on Karl’s shirtsleeves. After a short pause he said: “But don’t you feel cold, standing there in your shirt.”
“Come, Robinson,” said Karl, “you’re continually crying. I don’t believe you’re so ill. You look completely healthy, but since you’re always lying out here on the balcony, you’ve just imagined all sorts of things. You may occasionally get a pain in your chest, but then so do I, so does everybody. If everybody cried over every little trifle as you do, then all those people up on all the balconies would be crying too.”
“Well, I certainly know more about that than you do,” said Robinson, wiping his eyes with the tip of his blanket. “The student in the apartment next door, which belongs to the landlady, who also cooks for us, told me last time as I was returning the dishes: ‘Listen here, Robinson, aren’t you ill?’ I’m not allowed to talk to anybody, so I put down the dishes and wanted to leave. At that moment he came up to me and said: ‘Listen, man, don’t run yourself into the ground, you’re ill.’ ‘So, tell me please, what should I do,’ I asked. ‘That’s your business,’ he said, turning aside. The people sitting at his table laughed, we have enemies everywhere here, so I chose to leave.”
“So you believe those who make a fool of you, but don’t believe those who mean well by you.”
“But I must know how I feel,” said Robinson, flaring up only to resume his weeping.
“That’s just it, you don’t know what’s wrong with you; you should find yourself some decent job instead of acting as Delamarche’s servant. So far as I can tell from the stories you’ve told and from what I’ve seen, this isn’t service, it’s slavery. No human being could endure this, I believe you. But you think you shouldn’t leave Delamarche simply because you’re his friend. That’s wrong; if he cannot see what a miserable life you’re leading, you don’t have any further obligation toward him.”
“So, Rossmann, you really think I’ll recover if I stop serving here?”
“Yes, certainly,” said Karl.
“Certainly?” asked Robinson.
“Most certainly,” said Karl smiling.
“Then I could certainly start recovering right away,” said Robinson, glancing at Karl.
“What do you mean?” asked Karl.
“Well, since you’re meant to take over my work,” answered Robinson.
“But who told you so?” asked Karl.
“It’s actually an old plan. They’ve been talking about it for a number of days. It all began when Brunelda scolded me for not keeping the apartment sufficiently clean. Of course, I promised to tidy everything up at once. But it’s very difficult. In my condition I cannot, for instance, crawl in everywhere to wipe away the dust; it’s already impossible to move around in the middle of the room, so how can one get in between the furniture and the supplies. And for a thorough cleaning, the furniture has to be pushed aside, and how am I supposed to do that on my own? Besides, it would have to be done very quietly, since Brunelda hardly ever leaves the room and may not be disturbed. So even though I promised to clean everything, I did not actually do any cleaning. When Brunelda noticed, she told Delamarche that this simply couldn’t go on and that they’d need to take on another helper. ‘Delamarche,’ she said, ‘I don’t ever want you to reproach me for not taking good care of the household. I can’t overdo it, as you well know, and Robinson is simply inadequate; he was so fresh and at first kept looking about, but now he’s always tired and just sits around, most often in a corner. But a room filled with as many objects as ours can’t stay tidy on its own.’ And so Delamarche began to think about what could be done, for in such a household you cannot simply take on just any person, even on a trial basis, since there are people watching on all sides. Since I’m your good friend, and since Renell told me how you had to slave away at the hotel, I did mention your name. Delamarche agreed right away, in spite of your having been so cheeky toward him back then, and of course I was very pleased I co
uld help you in this way. You see, this position is made for you, you’re young, strong, and handy, whereas I’m simply worthless now. But I do want to add that you haven’t been taken on yet; if Brunelda doesn’t like you, we cannot use you. So do try to be nice to her, and I’ll take care of everything else.”
“And what’ll you do if I become the servant here?” Karl asked; he felt so free, the initial fright on hearing the news from Robinson had dissipated. So the worst Delamarche had in mind was to make him a servant—if his intentions had been any worse, that blabbermouth Robinson would certainly have divulged them—but if this was indeed actually so, then Karl could risk leaving that night. Nobody can be forced to accept a position. And after being dismissed from the hotel, Karl had worried about whether he would obtain a position that would not only be suitable but, if at all possible, no less unprepossessing than his previous one, and would manage to find one soon enough that he wouldn’t go hungry; now, however, when compared with the position assigned to him here, which he found repugnant, every other position was, he now believed, quite tolerable, and he would rather have opted for the misery of unemployment than for this present position. He did not even try to make this clear to Robinson, particularly since the latter’s hope that Karl would ease his burden had undoubtedly affected every judgment he made.
“Well then,” said Robinson, accompanying his remarks with complacent gestures—he had propped up his elbows on the balustrade—“first I’ll explain everything to you, and then I’ll show you the supplies. You’re an educated man and must have beautiful handwriting, so you could make a list of everything we have. Brunelda has wanted this done for a long time. If the weather tomorrow is good, we’ll ask Brunelda to sit out on the balcony, and then we can work away in the room, quietly and without disturbing her. And that, Rossmann, must be your top priority. Not to disturb Brunelda, above all else. She can hear everything—as a singer she probably has especially sensitive ears. Say you’re rolling out the schnapps barrel from behind the closets; since it’s heavy, it makes a lot of noise, and because of all those objects lying about everywhere you can’t just roll it along. Brunelda is, say, lying quietly on the settee catching flies—she’s especially bothered by them. So you think she’s paying no notice to you and go on rolling your barrel. But in the blink of an eye, just when you don’t expect it and are making the least amount of noise, she suddenly sits up and hits the settee with both hands, with the result that one cannot even see her because of all the dust swirling about—during the entire time we’ve been here, I’ve never beaten the settee; there’s no way I can, for she’s always lying there—and she starts to shout horribly, like a man, and goes on shouting for hours. Her neighbors forbade her to sing, but no one can forbid her to shout; she has to shout, and, by the way, this happens only rarely now—Delamarche and I have become very careful. Besides, that shouting harmed her too. Once she even lost consciousness and—Delamarche happened to be away—I had to send for the student next door; he sprayed her with some liquid from a large bottle, which helped but gave off an unbearable stench, which you can still smell if you put your nose up to the settee. That student is certainly our enemy, like everyone else here; you must be wary of everyone and keep your distance.”
“Heh, Robinson,” said Karl, “it’s really an onerous service. You’ve recommended me for such a splendid post!”
“Don’t worry,” said Robinson, and, closing his eyes, he shook his head to fend off any possible worries Karl might have, “the post also has advantages that no other post could possibly offer. You’re always in the presence of a great lady, Brunelda, and sometimes even get to sleep in the same room, which, as you can imagine, can be quite agreeable. You’ll receive lavish pay, there’s plenty of money; as a friend of Delamarche’s I received nothing, aside from the money Brunelda chose to give me whenever I went out, but you’ll naturally get paid, like any other servant. And of course that is indeed what you are. But most important for you, I’ll make the post easy for you. Of course, at first I won’t do a thing so that I can recover, but then once I’ve recovered even just a little, you can rely on me. Now the task of caring for Brunelda—in other words, cutting her hair and dressing her—I’ll generally reserve for myself insofar as Delamarche hasn’t already seen to that. You’ll be responsible for tidying up the room, shopping, and the heavier domestic chores.”
“No, Robinson,” said Karl, “I find all of that most un appealing.”
“Don’t be stupid, Rossmann,” said Robinson, who was now very close to Karl’s face, “don’t throw away this wonderful opportunity. Where would you get another post right away? Who knows you? Whom do you know? Take us two, men who’ve been through a great deal and have a considerable amount of experience; we ran around for weeks without finding work. It is not easy, it’s even desperately difficult.”
Karl nodded, marveling at how sensibly Robinson could speak. But this advice didn’t apply to him for he oughtn’t to stay; somewhere in the big city he could find a lowly position somewhere for—and he knew this for certain—every single tavern was full all night, they needed servants to take care of the guests, and of course he had some experience at that and would surely have no difficulty fitting quickly and inconspicuously into some outfit or other. In fact, down below in the building opposite was a small tavern from which one could hear the fleeting sound of music. The main entrance was covered only by a big yellow curtain that was occasionally lifted up by a gust of wind and fluttered about on the street. Otherwise, the street had become much quieter. Most of the balconies were dark; one could see only a solitary light here and there in the darkness, but no sooner had one fixed one’s gaze upon it than the people who sat there rose, and as they pressed back into the apartment, a man who had remained behind on the balcony reached for the lightbulb and, after glancing down at the street, turned off the light.
“It’s almost nighttime,” Karl said to himself, “if I stay any longer, I’ll become one of them.” He turned around to pull aside the curtain on the door into the apartment. “What do you want?” said Robinson, positioning himself between Karl and the curtain. “I’m trying to get away,” said Karl, “leave me alone, leave me alone!” “But you hardly want to disturb them,” cried Robinson, “what do you think you’re doing?” And he put his arms around Karl’s neck, hung on to him with his entire weight, and locking his legs around Karl’s, pulled him quickly to the ground. However, during his time among the elevator boys, Karl had picked up a few fighting skills, so he was able to shove his fist under Robinson’s chin, though not too hard and with great restraint. Showing no consideration whatsoever, the latter kneed Karl quickly and sharply in the stomach, then put both hands on his chin and began to howl so loudly that a man on the neighboring balcony clapped his hands wildly, demanding, “Silence.” Karl lay there quietly for a moment so as to recover from the pain caused by Robinson’s blow. He simply turned his face toward the curtain, which hung calmly and heavily in front of the evidently dark room. The room now seemed empty; perhaps Delamarche had gone out with Brunelda and Karl was therefore completely free now. So he must indeed have shaken off Robinson, who was really acting like a watchdog.
Then from afar, by way of the street, came the sounds of drums and trumpets as if in bursts. The scattered cries of numerous people soon merged into one general shout. Karl turned his head and saw that all of the balconies were becoming animated again. Slowly he rose, for he could not lift himself up completely and had to lean heavily against the balustrade. Upon the pavements below young fellows strode along, arms stretched out, caps in upraised hands, faces looking back. The thoroughfare was still empty. A few figures waved tall poles with lamps shrouded in a yellowish smoke. Just then deep rows of drummers and trumpeters stepped into the light, and Karl was astonished these were so numerous; then he heard voices behind him, turned around, and first saw Delamarche raise the heavy curtain, then Brunelda step out from the darkness of the room wearing her red dress, a lace wrap around her shoulders, a
nd a small dark cap over her hair, which was probably not yet coiffed and had merely been gathered up with the ends peeking out here and there. In her hand she held a small open fan, but did not move it, pressing it against her body instead.
Karl pushed his way through along the side of the balcony so as to make room for them both. Nobody would force him to stay, that’s for sure, and even if Delamarche should try, Brunelda would upon Karl’s request dismiss him at once. She certainly couldn’t stand him; his eyes frightened her. But no sooner had he taken a step toward the door than she noticed him and said: “Wait, little one, where are you off to?” Karl faltered under Delamarche’s severe gaze, and Brunelda drew him toward herself. “But don’t you want to look at the parade down below?” she said, pushing him in front of her toward the balustrade. “Do you know what’s going on?” Karl could hear her say behind his back, and he moved aside involuntarily in an unsuccessful attempt to free himself from the pressure she was exerting. Sadly he gazed down at the road, as if the reason for his sadness lay there.
At first Delamarche stood behind Brunelda with his arms crossed, and then he ran into the room and brought out opera glasses for Brunelda. Below, behind the musicians, the main section of the parade had appeared. Seated on the shoulders of an enormous man was a gentleman of whom all one could see from this height was a faintly glistening bald spot and a top hat perpetually raised in greeting. All around him people carried wooden signs that seemed completely white—at least as seen from the balcony; the signs were set up in such a way that they were literally leaning on the gentleman, who towered up in their midst. Since everything was moving, the wall of signs was continually loosening up and continually arranging itself anew. The gentleman’s supporters surrounded him, filling the entire width of the street—but only for a relatively short distance, at least insofar as one could make out in the dark—all of them clapped their hands and probably proclaimed his name in a rhythmic chant, which, however, was short and quite incomprehensible. Cleverly scattered about in the crowd, several of them carried car lamps with extremely strong lights, which they slowly trained up and down the houses along both sides of the street. At Karl’s height the light was no longer bothersome, but one could see the people on the lower balconies that it had briefly illuminated putting their hands over their eyes.