by Franz Kafka
The two of them had disappeared, but K. remained standing in the doorway. He had to accept that the woman had not only cheated him but that she had also lied to him when she said she was being taken to the examining judge. The examining judge certainly wouldn’t be sitting and waiting in the attic. The wooden stairs would explain nothing to him however long he stared at them. Then K. noticed a small piece of paper next to them, went across to it and read, in a childish and unpractised hand, “Entrance to the Court Offices”. Were the court offices here, in the attic of this tenement, then? If that was how they were accommodated it did not attract much respect, and it was some comfort for the accused to realise how little money this court had at its disposal if it had to locate its offices in a place where the tenants of the building, who were themselves among the poorest of people, would throw their unneeded junk. On the other hand, it was possible that the officials had enough money but that they squandered it on themselves rather than use it for the court’s purposes. Going by K.’s experience of them so far, that even seemed probable, except that if the court were allowed to decay in that way it would not just humiliate the accused but also give him more encouragement than if the court were simply in a state of poverty. K. also now understood that the court was ashamed to summon those it accused to the attic of this building for the initial hearing, and why it preferred to impose upon them in their own homes. What a position it was that K. found himself in, compared with the judge sitting up in the attic! K., at the bank, had a big office with an ante-room, and had an enormous window through which he could look down at the activity in the square. It was true, though, that he had no secondary income from bribes and fraud, and he couldn’t tell a servant to bring him a woman up to the office on his arm. K., however, was quite willing to do without such things, in this life at least. K. was still looking at the notice when a man came up the stairs, looked through the open door into the living room where it was also possible to see the courtroom, and finally asked K. whether he had just seen a woman there. “You’re the court usher, aren’t you?” asked K. “That’s right,” said the man, “oh, yes, you’re defendant K., I recognise you now as well. Nice to see you here.” And he offered K. his hand, which was far from what K. had expected. And when K. said nothing, he added, “There’s no court session planned for today, though.” “I know that,” said K. as he looked at the usher’s civilian coat which, beside its ordinary buttons, displayed two gilded ones as the only sign of his office and seemed to have been taken from an old army officer’s coat. “I was speaking with your wife a little while ago. She is no longer here. The student has carried her off to the examining judge.” “Listen to this,” said the usher, “they’re always carrying her away from me. It’s Sunday today, and it’s not part of my job to do any work today, but they send me off with some message which isn’t even necessary just to get me away from here. What they do is they send me off not too far away so that I can still hope to get back on time if I really hurry. So off I go running as fast as I can, shout the message through the crack in the door of the office I’ve been sent to, so out of breath they’ll hardly be able to understand it, run back here again, but the student’s been even faster than I have - well he’s got less far to go, he’s only got to run down the steps. If I wasn’t so dependent on them I’d have squashed the student against the wall here a long time ago. Right here, next to the sign. I’m always dreaming of doing that. Just here, just above the floor, that’s where he’s crushed onto the wall, his arms stretched out, his fingers spread apart, his crooked legs twisted round into a circle and blood squirted out all around him. It’s only ever been a dream so far, though.” “Is there nothing else you do?” asked K. with a smile. “Nothing that I know of,” said the usher. “And it’s going to get even worse now, up till now he’s only been carrying her off for himself, now he’s started carrying her off for the judge and all, just like I’d always said he would.” “Does your wife, then, not share some of the responsibility?” asked K. He had to force himself as he asked this question, as he, too, felt so jealous now. “Course she does,” said the usher, “it’s more her fault than theirs. It was her who attached herself to him. All he did, he just chases after any woman. There’s five flats in this block alone where he’s been thrown out after working his way in there. And my wife is the best looking woman in the whole building, but it’s me who’s not even allowed to defend himself.” “If that’s how things are, then there’s nothing that can be done,” said K. “Well why not?” asked the usher. “He’s a coward that student, if he wants to lay a finger on my wife all you’d have to do is give him such a good hiding he’d never dare do it again. But I’m not allowed to do that, and nobody else is going to do me the favour as they’re all afraid of his power. The only one who could do it is a man like you.” “What, how could I do it?” asked K. in astonishment.
“Well you’re facing a charge, aren’t you,” said the usher. “Yes, but that’s all the more reason for me to be afraid. Even if he has no influence on the outcome of the trial he probably has some on the initial examination.” “Yes, exactly,” said the usher, as if K.’s view had been just as correct as his own. “Only we don’t usually get any trials heard here with no hope at all.” “I am not of the same opinion”, said K., “although that ought not to prevent me from dealing with the student if the opportunity arises.” “I would be very grateful to you,” said the usher of the court, somewhat formally, not really seeming to believe that his highest wish could be fulfilled. “Perhaps,” continued K., “perhaps there are some other officials of yours here, perhaps all of them, who would deserve the same.” “Oh yes, yes,” said the usher, as if this was a matter of course. Then he looked at K. trustingly which, despite all his friendliness, he had not done until then, and added, “they’re always rebelling.” But the conversation seemed to have become a little uncomfortable for him, as he broke it off by saying, “now I have to report to the office. Would you like to come with me?” “There’s nothing for me to do there,” said K.
“You’d be able to have a look at it. No-one will take any notice of you.” “Is it worth seeing then?” asked K. hesitatingly, although he felt very keen to go with him. “Well,” said the usher, “I thought you’d be interested in it.” “Alright then,” said K. finally, “I’ll come with you.” And, quicker than the usher himself, he ran up the steps.
At the entrance he nearly fell over, as behind the door there was another step. “They don’t show much concern for the public,” he said. “They don’t show any concern at all,” said the usher, “just look at the waiting room here.” It consisted of a long corridor from which roughly made doors led out to the separate departments of the attic. There was no direct source of light but it was not entirely dark as many of the departments, instead of solid walls, had just wooden bars reaching up to the ceiling to separate them from the corridor. The light made its way in through them, and it was also possible to see individual officials through them as they sat writing at their desks or stood up at the wooden frameworks and watched the people on the corridor through the gaps. There were only a few people in the corridor, probably because it was Sunday. They were not very impressive. They sat, equally spaced, on two rows of long wooden benches which had been placed along both sides of the corridor. All of them were carelessly dressed although the expressions on their faces, their bearing, the style of their beards and many details which were hard to identify showed that they belonged to the upper classes. There were no coat hooks for them to use, and so they had placed their hats under the bench, each probably having followed the example of the others. When those who were sitting nearest the door saw K. and the usher of the court they stood up to greet them, and when the others saw that, they also thought they had to greet them, so that as the two of them went by all the people there stood up. None of them stood properly upright, their backs were bowed, their knees bent, they stood like beggars on the street. K. waited for the usher, who was following just behind him. “They must a
ll be very dispirited,” he said. “Yes,” said the usher, “they are the accused, everyone you see here has been accused.” “Really!” said K. “They’re colleagues of mine then.” And he turned to the nearest one, a tall, thin man with hair that was nearly grey. “What is it you are waiting for here?” asked K., politely, but the man was startled at being spoken to unexpectedly, which was all the more pitiful to see because the man clearly had some experience of the world and elsewhere would certainly have been able to show his superiority and would not have easily given up the advantage he had acquired. Here, though, he did not know what answer to give to such a simple question and looked round at the others as if they were under some obligation to help him, and as if no-one could expect any answer from him without this help. Then the usher of the court stepped forward to him and, in order to calm him down and raise his spirits, said, “The gentleman here’s only asking what it is you’re waiting for. You can give him an answer.” The voice of the usher was probably familiar to him, and had a better effect than K.’s. “I’m ... I’m waiting ...” he began, and then came to a halt. He had clearly chosen this beginning so that he could give a precise answer to the question, but now he didn’t know how to continue. Some of the others waiting had come closer and stood round the group, the usher of the court said to them, “Get out the way, keep the gangway free.” They moved back slightly, but not as far as where they had been sitting before. In the meantime, the man whom K. had first approached had pulled himself together and even answered him with a smile.
“A month ago I made some applications for evidence to be heard in my case, and I’m waiting for it to be settled.” “You certainly seem to be going to a lot of effort,” said K. “Yes,” said the man, “it is my affair after all.” “Not everyone thinks the same way as you do,” said K. “I’ve been indicted as well but I swear on my soul that I’ve neither submitted evidence nor done anything else of the sort. Do you really think that’s necessary?” “I don’t really know, exactly,” said the man, once more totally unsure of himself; he clearly thought K. was joking with him and therefore probably thought it best to repeat his earlier answer in order to avoid making any new mistakes. With K. looking at him impatiently, he just said, “as far as I’m concerned, I’ve applied to have this evidence heard.” “Perhaps you don’t believe I’ve been indicted?” asked K. “Oh, please, I certainly do,” said the man, stepping slightly to one side, but there was more anxiety in his answer than belief. “You don’t believe me then?” asked K., and took hold of his arm, unconsciously prompted by the man’s humble demeanour, and as if he wanted to force him to believe him. But he did not want to hurt the man and had only taken hold of him very lightly. Nonetheless, the man cried out as if K. had grasped him not with two fingers but with red hot tongs. Shouting in this ridiculous way finally made K. tired of him, if he didn’t believe he was indicted then so much the better; maybe he even thought K. was a judge. And before leaving, he held him a lot harder, shoved him back onto the bench and walked on. “These defendants are so sensitive, most of them,” said the usher of the court. Almost all of those who had been waiting had now assembled around the man who, by now, had stopped shouted and they seemed to be asking him lots of precise questions about the incident. K. was approached by a security guard, identifiable mainly by his sword, of which the scabbard seemed to be made of aluminium. This greatly surprised K., and he reached out for it with his hand. The guard had come because of the shouting and asked what had been happening. The usher of the court said a few words to try and calm him down but the guard explained that he had to look into it himself, saluted, and hurried on, walking with very short steps, probably because of gout.
K. didn’t concern himself long with the guard or these people, especially as he saw a turning off the corridor, about half way along it on the right hand side, where there was no door to stop him going that way. He asked the usher whether that was the right way to go, the usher nodded, and that is the way that K. went. The usher remained always one or two steps behind K, which he found irritating as in a place like this it could give the impression that he was being driven along by someone who had arrested him, so he frequently waited for the usher to catch up, but the usher always remained behind him. In order to put an end to his discomfort, K. finally said, “Now that I’ve seen what it looks like here, I’d like to go.” “You haven’t seen everything yet,” said the usher ingenuously.
“I don’t want to see everything,” said K., who was also feeling very tired, “I want to go, what is the way to the exit?” “You haven’t got lost, have you?” asked the usher in amazement, “you go down this way to the corner, then right down the corridor straight ahead as far as the door.” “Come with me,” said K., “show me the way, I’ll miss it, there are so many different ways here.” “It’s the only way there is,” said the usher, who had now started to sound quite reproachful, “I can’t go back with you again, I’ve got to hand in my report, and I’ve already lost a lot of time because of you as it is.” “Come with me!” K. repeated, now somewhat sharper as if he had finally caught the usher out in a lie. “Don’t shout like that,” whispered the usher, “there’s offices all round us here. If you don’t want to go back by yourself come on a bit further with me or else wait here till I’ve sorted out my report, then I’ll be glad to go back with you again.” “No, no,” said K., “I will not wait and you must come with me now.” K. had still not looked round at anything at all in the room where he found himself, and it was only when one of the many wooden doors all around him opened that he noticed it. A young woman, probably summoned by the loudness of K.’s voice, entered and asked, “What is it the gentleman wants?” In the darkness behind her there was also a man approaching. K. looked at the usher. He had, after all, said that no-one would take any notice of K., and now there were two people coming, it only needed a few and everyone in the office would become aware of him and asking for explanations as to why he was there. The only understandable and acceptable thing to say was that he was accused of something and wanted to know the date of his next hearing, but this was an explanation he did not want to give, especially as it was not true - he had only come out of curiosity. Or else, an explanation even less usable, he could say that he wanted to ascertain that the court was as revolting on the inside as it was on the outside. And it did seem that he had been quite right in this supposition, he had no wish to intrude any deeper, he was disturbed enough by what he had seen already, he was not in the right frame of mind just then to face a high official such as might appear from behind any door, and he wanted to go, either with the usher of the court or, if needs be, alone.
But he must have seemed very odd standing there in silence, and the young woman and the usher were indeed looking at him as if they thought he would go through some major metamorphosis any second which they didn’t want to miss seeing. And in the doorway stood the man whom K. had noticed in the background earlier, he held firmly on to the beam above the low door swinging a little on the tips of his feet as if becoming impatient as he watched. But the young woman was the first to recognise that K.’s behaviour was caused by his feeling slightly unwell, she brought a chair and asked,
“Would you not like to sit down?” K. sat down immediately and, in order to keep his place better, put his elbows on the armrests. “You’re a little bit dizzy, aren’t you?” she asked him. Her face was now close in front of him, it bore the severe expression that many young women have just when they’re in the bloom of their youth. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said, “that’s nothing unusual here, almost everyone gets an attack like that the first time they come here. This is your first time is it? Yes, it’s nothing unusual then. The sun burns down on the roof and the hot wood makes the air so thick and heavy. It makes this place rather unsuitable for offices, whatever other advantages it might offer. But the air is almost impossible to breathe on days when there’s a lot of business, and that’s almost every day. And when you think that there’s a lot of was
hing put out to dry here as well - and we can’t stop the tenants doing that - it’s not surprising you started to feel unwell. But you get used to the air alright in the end. When you’re here for the second or third time you’ll hardly notice how oppressive the air is. Are you feeling any better now?” K. made no answer, he felt too embarrassed at being put at the mercy of these people by his sudden weakness, and learning the reason for feeling ill made him feel not better but a little worse. The girl noticed it straight away, and to make the air fresher for K., she took a window pole that was leaning against the wall and pushed open a small hatch directly above K.’s head that led to the outside. But so much soot fell in that the girl had to immediately close the hatch again and clean the soot off K.’s hands with her handkerchief, as K. was too tired to do that for himself. He would have liked just to sit quietly where he was until he had enough strength to leave, and the less fuss people made about him the sooner that would be. But then the girl said, “You can’t stay here, we’re in people’s way here ...” K. looked at her as if to ask whose way they were impeding. “If you like, I can take you to the sick room,” and turning to the man in the doorway said, “please help me”. The man immediately came over to them, but K. did not want to go to the sick room, that was just what he wanted to avoid, being led further from place to place, the further he went the more difficult it must become. So he said, “I am able to walk now,” and stood up, shaking after becoming used to sitting so comfortably. But then he was unable to stay upright. “I can’t manage it,” he said shaking his head, and sat down again with a sigh. He remembered the usher who, despite everything, would have been able to lead him out of there but who seemed to have gone long before. K. looked out between the man and the young woman who were standing in front of him but was unable to find the usher. “I think,” said the man, who was elegantly dressed and whose appearance was made especially impressive with a grey waistcoat that had two long, sharply tailored points, “the gentleman is feeling unwell because of the atmosphere here, so the best thing, and what he would most prefer, would be not to take him to the sick room but get him out of the offices altogether.” “That’s right,” exclaimed K., with such joy that he nearly interrupted what the man was saying, “I’m sure that’ll make me feel better straight away, I’m really not that weak, all I need is a little support under my arms, I won’t cause you much trouble, it’s not such a long way anyway, lead me to the door and then I’ll sit on the stairs for a while and soon recover, as I don’t suffer from attacks like this at all, I’m surprised at it myself. I also work in an office and I’m quite used to office air, but here it seems to be too strong, you’ve said so yourselves. So please, be so kind as to help me on my way a little, I’m feeling dizzy, you see, and it’ll make me ill if I stand up by myself.” And with that he raised his shoulders to make it easier for the two of them to take him by the arms.