by Franz Kafka
He was a short, jolly man, a manufacturer who K. knew well. He apologised for disturbing K. at some important work, and K., for his part, apologised for having kept the manufacturer waiting for so long. But even this apology was spoken in such a mechanical way and with such false intonation that the manufacturer would certainly have noticed if he had not been fully preoccupied with his business affairs. Instead, he hurriedly pulled calculations and tables out from all his pockets, spread them out in front of K., explained several items, corrected a little mistake in the arithmetic that he noticed as he quickly glanced over it all, and reminded K. of a similar piece of business he’d concluded with him about a year before, mentioning in passing that this time there was another bank spending great effort to get his business, and finally stopped speaking in order to learn K.’s opinion on the matter. And K. had indeed, at first, been closely following what the manufacturer was saying, he too was aware of how important the deal was, but unfortunately it did not last, he soon stopped listening, nodded at each of the manufacturer’s louder exclamations for a short while, but eventually he stopped doing even that and did no more than stare at the bald head bent over the papers, asking himself when the manufacturer would finally realise that everything he was saying was useless. When he did stop talking, K. really thought at first that this was so that he would have the chance to confess that he was incapable of listening. Instead, seeing the anticipation on the manufacturer’s face, obviously ready to counter any objections made, he was sorry to realise that the business discussion had to be continued. So he bent his head as if he’d been given an order and began slowly to move his pencil over the papers, now and then he would stop and stare at one of the figures. The manufacturer thought there must be some objection, perhaps his figures weren’t really sound, perhaps they weren’t the decisive issue, whatever he thought, the manufacturer covered the papers with his hand and began once again, moving very close to K., to explain what the deal was all about. “It is difficult,” said K., pursing his lips. The only thing that could offer him any guidance were the papers, and the manufacturer had covered them from his view, so he just sank back against the arm of the chair. Even when the door of the manager’s office opened and revealed not very clearly, as if through a veil, the deputy director, he did no more than look up weakly. K. thought no more about the matter, he merely watched the immediate effect of the deputy director’s appearance and, for him, the effect was very pleasing; the manufacturer immediately jumped up from his seat and hurried over to meet the deputy director, although K. would have liked to make him ten times livelier as he feared the deputy director might disappear again. He need not have worried, the two gentlemen met each other, shook each other’s hand and went together over to K.’s desk. The manufacturer said he was sorry to find the chief clerk so little inclined to do business, pointing to K. who, under the view of the deputy director, had bent back down over the papers. As the two men leant over the desk and the manufacturer made some effort to gain and keep the deputy director’s attention, K. felt as if they were much bigger than they really were and that their negotiations were about him. Carefully and slowly turning his eyes upwards, he tried to learn what was taking place above him, took one of the papers from his desk without looking to see what it was, lay it on the flat of his hand and raised it slowly up as he rose up to the level of the two men himself. He had no particular plan in mind as he did this, but merely felt this was how he would act if only he had finished preparing that great document that was to remove his burden entirely. The deputy director had been paying all his attention to the conversation and did no more than glance at the paper, he did not read what was written on it at all as what was important for the chief clerk was not important for him, he took it from K.’s hand saying, “Thank you, I’m already familiar with everything”, and lay it calmly back on the desk. K. gave him a bitter, sideways look. But the deputy director did not notice this at all, or if he did notice it it only raised his spirits, he frequently laughed out loud, one time he clearly embarrassed the manufacturer when he raised an objection in a witty way but drew him immediately back out of his embarrassment by commenting adversely on himself, and finally invited him into his office where they could bring the matter to its conclusion. “It’s a very important matter,” said the manufacturer. “I understand that completely. And I’m sure the chief clerk ...” - even as he said this he was actually speaking only to the manufacturer - “will be very glad to have us take it off his hands. This is something that needs calm consideration. But he seems to be over-burdened today, there are even some people in the room outside who’ve been waiting there for hours for him.” K. still had enough control of himself to turn away from the deputy director and direct his friendly, albeit stiff, smile only at the manufacturer, he made no other retaliation, bent down slightly and supported himself with both hands on his desk like a clerk, and watched as the two gentlemen, still talking, took the papers from his desk and disappeared into the manager’s office. In the doorway, the manufacturer turned and said he wouldn’t make his farewell with K. just yet, he would of course let the chief clerk know about the success of his discussions but he also had a little something to tell him about.
At last, K. was by himself. It did not enter his head to show anyone else into his office and only became vaguely aware of how nice it was that the people outside thought he was still negotiating with the manufacturer and, for this reason, he could not let anyone in to see him, not even the servitor. He went over to the window, sat down on the ledge beside it, held firmly on to the handle and looked down onto the square outside. The snow was still falling, the weather still had not brightened up at all.
He remained a long time sitting in this way, not knowing what it actually was that made him so anxious, only occasionally did he glance, slightly startled, over his shoulder at the door to the outer room where, mistakenly, he thought he’d heard some noise. No-one came, and that made him feel calmer, he went over to the wash stand, rinsed his face with cold water and, his head somewhat clearer, went back to his place by the window. The decision to take his defence into his own hands now seemed more of a burden than he had originally assumed. All the while he had left his defence up to the lawyer his trial had had little basic affect on him, he had observed it from afar as something that was scarcely able to reach him directly, when it suited him he looked to see how things stood but he was also able to draw his head back again whenever he wanted. Now, in contrast, if he was to conduct his defence himself, he would have to devote himself entirely to the court - for the time being, at least - success would mean, later on, his complete and conclusive liberation, but if he was to achieve this he would have to place himself, to start with, in far greater danger than he had been in so far. If he ever felt tempted to doubt this, then his experience with the deputy director and the manufacturer that day would be quite enough to convince him of it. How could he have sat there totally convinced of the need to do his own defence? How would it be later? What would his life be like in the days ahead? Would he find the way through it all to a happy conclusion? Did a carefully worked out defence - and any other sort would have made no sense - did a carefully worked out defence not also mean he would need to shut himself off from everything else as much as he could? Would he survive that? And how was he to succeed in conducting all this at the bank? It involved much more than just submitting some documents that he could probably prepare in a few days’ leave, although it would have been great temerity to ask for time off from the bank just at that time, it was a whole trial and there was no way of seeing how long it might last. This was an enormous difficulty that had suddenly been thrown into K.’s life!
And was he supposed to be doing the bank’s work at a time like this? He looked down at his desk. Was he supposed to let people in to see him and go into negotiations with them at a time like this? While his trial trundled on, while the court officials upstairs in the attic room sat looking at the papers for this trial, should he be worrying about th
e business of the bank? Did this not seem like a kind of torture, acknowledged by the court, connected with the trial and which followed him around? And is it likely that anyone in the bank, when judging his work, would take any account of his peculiar situation? No-one and never. There were those who knew about his trial, although it was not quite clear who knew about it or how much. But he hoped rumours had not reached as far as the deputy director, otherwise he would obviously soon find a way of making use of it to harm K., he would show neither comradeship nor humaneness. And what about the director? It was true that he was well disposed towards K., and as soon as he heard about the trial he would probably try to do everything he could to make it easier for him, but he would certainly not devote himself to it. K. at one time had provided the counter-balance to what the deputy director said but the director was now coming more and more under his influence, and the deputy director would also exploit the weakened condition of the director to strengthen his own power. So what could K. hope for? Maybe considerations of this sort weakened his power of resistance, but it was still necessary not to deceive oneself and to see everything as clearly as it could be seen at that moment.
For no particular reason, just to avoiding returning to his desk for a while, he opened the window. It was difficult to open and he had to turn the handle with both his hands. Then, through the whole height and breadth of the window, the mixture of fog and smoke was drawn into the room, filling it with a slight smell of burning. A few flakes of snow were blown in with it. “It’s a horrible autumn,” said the manufacturer, who had come into the room unnoticed after seeing the deputy director and now stood behind K. K. nodded and looked uneasily at the manufacturer’s briefcase, from which he would now probably take the papers and inform K. of the result of his negotiations with the deputy director. However, the manufacturer saw where K. was looking, knocked on his briefcase and without opening it said, “You’ll be wanting to hear how things turned out. I’ve already got the contract in my pocket, almost. He’s a charming man, your deputy director - he’s got his dangers, though.” He laughed as he shook K.’s hand and wanted to make him laugh with him. But to K., it once more seemed suspicious that the manufacturer did not want to show him the papers and saw nothing about his comments to laugh at. “Chief clerk,” said the manufacturer, “I expect the weather’s been affecting your mood, has it? You’re looking so worried today.” “Yes,” said K., raising his hand and holding the temple of his head, “headaches, worries in the family.” “Quite right,” said the manufacturer, who was always in a hurry and could never listen to anyone for very long, “everyone has his cross to bear.” K. had unconsciously made a step towards the door as if wanting to show the manufacturer out, but the manufacturer said, “Chief clerk, there’s something else I’d like to mention to you. I’m very sorry if it’s something that’ll be a burden to you today of all days but I’ve been to see you twice already, lately, and each time I forgot all about it. If I delay it any longer it might well lose its point altogether. That would be a pity, as I think what I’ve got to say does have some value.” Before K. had had the time to answer, the manufacturer came up close to him, tapped his knuckle lightly on his chest and said quietly, “You’ve got a trial going on, haven’t you?” K. stepped back and immediately exclaimed, “That’s what the deputy director’s been telling you!” “No, no,” said the manufacturer, “how would the deputy director know about it?” “And what about you?” asked K., already more in control of himself. “I hear things about the court here and there,” said the manufacturer, “and that even applies to what it is that I wanted to tell you about.” “There are so many people who have connections with the court!” said K. with lowered head, and he led the manufacturer over to his desk. They sat down where they had been before, and the manufacturer said, “I’m afraid it’s not very much that I’ve got to tell you about. Only, in matters like this, it’s best not to overlook the tiniest details. Besides, I really want to help you in some way, however modest my help might be. We’ve been good business partners up till now, haven’t we? Well then.” K. wanted to apologise for his behaviour in the conversation earlier that day, but the manufacturer would tolerate no interruption, shoved his briefcase up high in his armpit to show that he was in a hurry, and carried on. “I know about your case through a certain Titorelli. He’s a painter, Titorelli’s just his artistic name, I don’t even know what his real name is. He’s been coming to me in my office for years from time to time, and brings little pictures with him which I buy more or less just for the sake of charity as he’s hardly more than a beggar. And they’re nice pictures, too, moorland landscapes and that sort of thing. We’d both got used to doing business in this way and it always went smoothly. Only, one time these visits became a bit too frequent, I began to tell him off for it, we started talking and I became interested how it was that he could earn a living just by painting, and then I learned to my amazement that his main source of income was painting portraits. ‘I work for the court,’ he said, ‘what court?’ said I. And that’s when he told me about the court. I’m sure you can imagine how amazed I was at being told all this. Ever since then I learn something new about the court every time he comes to visit, and so little by little I get to understand something of how it works. Anyway, Titorelli talks a lot and I often have to push him away, not only because he’s bound to be lying but also, most of all, because a businessman like me who’s already close to breaking point under the weight of his own business worries can’t pay too much attention to other people’s. But all that’s just by the by. Perhaps - this is what I’ve been thinking - perhaps Titorelli might be able to help you in some small way, he knows lots of judges and even if he can’t have much influence himself he can give you some advice about how to get some influential people on your side. And even if this advice doesn’t turn out to make all the difference I still think it’ll be very important once you’ve got it. You’re nearly a lawyer yourself. That’s what I always say, Mr. K. the chief clerk is nearly a lawyer. Oh I’m sure this trial of yours will turn out all right. So do you want to go and see Titorelli, then? If I ask him to he’ll certainly do everything he possibly can. I really do think you ought to go. It needn’t be today, of course, just some time, when you get the chance. And anyway - I want to tell you this too - you don’t actually have to go and see Titorelli, this advice from me doesn’t place you under any obligation at all. No, if you think you can get by without Titorelli it’ll certainly be better to leave him completely out of it. Maybe you’ve already got a clear idea of what you’re doing and Titorelli could upset your plans. No, if that’s the case then of course you shouldn’t go there under any circumstances! And it certainly won’t be easy to take advice from a lad like that. Still, it’s up to you. Here’s the letter of recommendation and here’s the address.”
Disappointed, K. took the letter and put it in his pocket. Even at best, the advantage he might derive from this recommendation was incomparably smaller than the damage that lay in the fact of the manufacturer knowing about his trial, and that the painter was spreading the news about. It was all he could mange to give the manufacturer, who was already on his way to the door, a few words of thanks. “I’ll go there,” he said as he took his leave of the manufacturer at the door, “or, as I’m very busy at present, I’ll write to him, perhaps he would like to come to me in my office some time.” “I was sure you’d find the best solution,” said the manufacturer. “Although I had thought you’d prefer to avoid inviting people like this Titorelli to the bank and talking about the trial here. And it’s not always a good idea to send letters to people like Titorelli, you don’t know what might happen to them. But you’re bound to have thought everything through and you know what you can and can’t do.” K. nodded and accompanied the manufacturer on through the ante-room. But despite seeming calm on the outside he was actually very shocked; he had told the manufacturer he would write to Titorelli only to show him in some way that he valued his recommendations and would consider the
opportunity to speak with Titorelli without delay, but if he had thought Titorelli could offer any worthwhile assistance he would not have delayed. But it was only the manufacturer’s comment that made K. realise what dangers that could lead to. Was he really able to rely on his own understanding so little? If it was possible that he might invite a questionable character into the bank with a clear letter, and ask advice from him about his trial, separated from the deputy director by no more than a door, was it not possible or even very likely that there were also other dangers he had failed to see or that he was even running towards? There was not always someone beside him to warn him. And just now, just when he would have to act with all the strength he could muster, now a number of doubts of a sort he had never before known had presented themselves and affected his own vigilance! The difficulties he had been feeling in carrying out his office work; were they now going to affect the trial too? Now, at least, he found himself quite unable to understand how he could have intended to write to Titorelli and invite him into the bank.
He shook his head at the thought of it once more as the servitor came up beside him and drew his attention to the three gentlemen who were waiting on a bench in the ante-room. They had already been waiting to see K. for a long time. Now that the servitor was speaking with K. they had stood up and each of them wanted to make use of the opportunity to see K. before the others. It had been negligent of the bank to let them waste their time here in the waiting room, but none of them wanted to draw attention to this. “Mr. K., ...” one of them was saying, but K. had told the servitor to fetch his winter coat and said to the three of them, as the servitor helped him to put it on, “Please forgive me, gentlemen, I’m afraid I have no time to see you at present. Please do forgive me but I have some urgent business to settle and have to leave straight away. You’ve already seen yourselves how long I’ve been delayed. Would you be so kind as to come back tomorrow or some time? Or perhaps we could settle your affairs by telephone? Or perhaps you would like to tell me now, briefly, what it’s about and I can then give you a full answer in writing. Whatever, the best thing will be for you to come here again.” The gentlemen now saw that their wait had been totally pointless, and these suggestions of K.’s left them so astounded that they looked at each other without a word. “That’s agreed then, is it?” asked K., who had turned toward the servitor bringing him his hat. Through the open door of K.’s office they could see that the snowfall outside had become much heavier. So K. turned the collar of his coat up and buttoned it up high under his chin. Just then the deputy director came out of the adjoining room, smiled as he saw K. negotiating with the gentlemen in his winter coat, and asked, “Are you about to go out?” “Yes,” said K., standing more upright, “I have to go out on some business.” But the deputy director had already turned towards the gentlemen. “And what about these gentlemen?” he asked. “I think they’ve already been waiting quite a long time.” “We’ve already come to an understanding,” said K. But now the gentlemen could be held back no longer, they surrounded K. and explained that they would not have been waiting for hours if it had not been about something important that had to be discussed now, at length and in private. The deputy director listened to them for a short while, he also looked at K. as he held his hat in his hand cleaning the dust off it here and there, and then he said, “Gentlemen, there is a very simple way to solve this. If you would prefer it, I’ll be very glad to take over these negotiations instead of the chief clerk. Your business does, of course, need to be discussed without delay. We are businessmen like yourselves and know the value of a businessman’s time. Would you like to come this way?” And he opened the door leading to the ante-room of his own office.