by Franz Kafka
‘I see,’ said the student, and it wasn’t quite clear whether he’d started reading his book again, or was merely staring at it absent-mindedly, ‘you should be glad you’ve given it up. For some years now I’ve only been studying out of bloody-mindedness. It brings me little satisfaction, and even less in the way of future prospects. What prospects am I supposed to have! America is full of quack doctors.’
‘I wanted to be an engineer,’ said Karl quickly to the student who now seemed wholly indifferent.
‘And now you’re going to be a servant for those people,’ said the student looking up quickly, ‘that must hurt.’
This conclusion on the part of the student was a misunderstanding, but Karl thought it might help him with the student. And so he asked: ‘Is there any chance I might get a job at the department store?’
The question tore the student away from his book; it didn’t even occur to him that he might help Karl to apply for a job. ‘Try it,’ he said, ‘or rather don’t. Getting my job at Montly’s has been the greatest success of my life to date. If I had to choose between my studies and my job, I would choose my job every time. Although of course I’m doing my best to see that I never have to make the choice.’
‘So that’s how hard it is to get a job there,’ said Karl, musingly.
‘You have no idea,’ said the student, ‘it’s easier to become the district judge here than the doorman at Montly’s.’
Karl didn’t say anything. That student, who was so much more experienced than himself, and who hated Delamarche for reasons Karl had yet to learn, and who certainly wished no ill upon Karl, didn’t offer so much as a word of encouragement to Karl to walk out on Delamarche. And he didn’t even know about the threat that was posed by the police, and from which Delamarche offered the only possible source of protection.
‘You watched the demonstration down there earlier in the evening, didn’t you? If you didn’t know the circumstances, you might think that candidate, Lobter’s his name, might have some prospects, or at least was a possibility, no?’
‘I don’t know anything about politics,’ said Karl.
‘You’re making a mistake,’ said the student. But be that as it may, you’ve still got eyes and ears in your head. The man certainly had his friends and his enemies, that can’t have escaped your attention. Well, in my opinion the man hasn’t the faintest chance of being returned. I happen to know all about him, someone who lives here with us knows him. He’s not an untalented man, and his political opinions and his political career to date would seem to qualify him as a suitable judge for this district. But no one gives him the slightest chance, he’ll fail just as comprehensively as it’s possible to fail, he’ll have blown his few dollars on his election campaign, and that’s all.’
Karl and the student looked at one another in silence for a while. The student nodded with a smile, and rubbed his tired eyes with one hand.
‘Well, aren’t you going to bed yet?’ he asked, ‘I have to get back to my studies. You see how much I still have to do.’ And he riffled through half a volume, to give Karl some idea of how much work was still waiting for him.
‘Well, good night then,’ said Karl, and bowed.
‘Come over and see us some time,’ said the student, seated at his table again by now, ‘of course only if you’d like to. There are always a lot of people here. Between nine and ten in the evening I’d have some time for you myself.’
‘So you advise me to stay with Delamarche?’ asked Karl.
‘Definitely,’ said the student, and already his head was bent over his books. It was as though he hadn’t said the word at all; it echoed in Karl’s ears, as though it had come from a far deeper voice than the student’s. Slowly he made his way to the curtain, took a final look at the student, now sitting immobile in his pool of light, surrounded by all the darkness, and slipped into the room. The combined breathing of the three sleepers met him. He felt along the wall for the sofa, and when he had found it, he stretched out on it quietly, as though it was his regular bed. As the student, who knew Delamarche and circumstances here well, and was moreover a cultivated man, had counselled him to stay, he had no qualms for the moment. He didn’t have such lofty aims as the student, who could say if he would have managed to complete his studies if he’d stayed at home, and what barely seemed possible at home no one could demand that he did in a foreign land. But the hope of finding a job where he could do something and find recognition for it was certainly greater if he took the servant’s job with Delamarche, and from the security that offered, waited for a favourable opening. This street seemed to contain many small and medium-sized offices that might not be all that choosy when it came to filling a vacancy. He was happy to be a porter, if need be, but really it wasn’t out of the question that he might be chosen for actual office work and might one day sit as an office worker at his desk and look out of his open window with no worries for a while, just like that official he had seen in the morning while walking through the courtyards. It comforted him, even as he shut his eyes that he was still young, and that Delamarche would at some stage let him go: this household really didn’t give the impression of being made to last. But once Karl had got a job in an office, then he would occupy himself with nothing but his office work, and not fritter away his strength the way the student did. If need be, he would do night work at the office too, which would be asked of him anyway, in view of his limited business experience. He would think exclusively of the interest of the business where he was employed, and accept all manner of work, even what other employees saw as demeaning to them. Good resolutions crowded into his mind, as though his future boss were standing by his sofa, and could read them in his face.
Thinking such thoughts, Karl fell asleep and as he was drifting off, he was disturbed once more by a vast sigh from Brunelda who, evidently plagued by troubling dreams, tossed and turned on her bed.
‘Up! Up!’ cried Robinson, the moment Karl opened his eyes in the morning. The curtain in the doorway had not yet been drawn, but you could see from the even way the sun poured through the cracks that the morning was already well advanced. Robinson was bustling about here and there, with a worried expression on his face, now he was carrying a towel, now a bucket of water, now sundry items of clothing and underwear, and every time he passed Karl, he would nod in his direction to induce him to get up, and show him, by holding up whatever he happened to be carrying, how he was exerting himself on Karl’s behalf, today and for the last time, seeing as he couldn’t of course grasp the intricacies of serving on his very first morning.
After a time Karl saw whom Robinson was in the process of waiting on. In an alcove which Karl had failed to notice before, separated from the rest of the room by a couple of chests of drawers, great ablutions were in progress. You could see Brunelda’s head, her bare throat – the hair had just been pushed into her face – and the nape of her neck, over the chests of drawers, and Delamarche’s raised hand waving in and out of view, holding a liberally dripping bath sponge, with which Brunelda was being scrubbed and washed. You could hear the short commands Delamarche gave Robinson, who didn’t pass things through the now blocked-off entrance to the alcove, but was restricted to a little gap between one of the chests of drawers and a screen, and was made to hold out each new item with extended arms and averted face. ‘The towel! The towel,’ shouted Delamarche. And just as Robinson, who had been looking for something else under the table, started at this call and withdrew his head from under the table, there was already a different command: ‘Water, I want the water goddammit,’ and the enraged face of Delamarche loomed over the chest of drawers. All those things that Karl thought were needed only once in the course of washing and dressing were here called for and brought repeatedly, and in every possible order. A large pan full of water was always kept to heat up on a little electric stove, and time and again, with legs wide apart, Robinson lugged it into the washroom. In view of the amount of work it was understandable that he didn’t always follow his
orders to the letter, and once, when another towel was called for, he simply pulled a shirt off the great sleeping platform in the middle of the room, and tossed it in a tangled mass over the chest of drawers.
But Delamarche had his hands full as well, and perhaps was only so irritated with Robinson – and far too irritated even to notice Karl – because he was unable to satisfy Brunelda himself. ‘Oh!’ she cried, and even the otherwise uninvolved Karl shrank at that. ‘You’re hurting me! Go away! I’d sooner wash myself than go on suffering like this! I won’t be able to lift my arm again because of you. You’re squeezing me so hard, it’s making me ill. I just know my back is covered with bruises. Of course, you’ll never tell me if it is. Just you wait, I’ll get Robinson to look at me, or the little new chap. All right, I won’t but just be a bit more careful. Just show a little sensitivity, Delamarche, but that’s what I say every morning, and it makes no difference. Robinson,’ she cried suddenly, waving some frilly knickers in the air, ‘come to my rescue, see how I’m suffering, he calls this torment washing, that Delamarche. Robinson, Robinson, what’s keeping you, have you no pity either?’ Karl silently motioned to Robinson with one finger to go to her, but Robinson lowered his eyes and shook his head in a superior fashion, he knew better than that. ‘Are you crazy?’ he whispered into Karl’s ear. ‘She doesn’t mean it literally. One time I did go in, and never again. Both of them grabbed hold of me and held me down in the bath, I almost drowned. And for days afterwards Brunelda taunted me for being dirty-minded, she kept saying: “You haven’t been to see me in my bath for a while now,” or “When will you come and inspect me in my bath?” I had to get down on my knees and beg before she agreed to stop. I’ll never forget that.’ And all the time Robinson was talking, Brunelda kept calling: ‘Robinson! Robinson! What’s keeping that Robinson!’
In spite of the fact that no one came to her assistance, and there wasn’t even a reply – Robinson had sat down next to Karl, and the two of them looked silently across at the chests of drawers, above which the heads of Brunelda and Delamarche were visible from time to time – in spite of that, Brunelda didn’t stop her loud complaining about Delamarche. ‘Come on, Delamarche,’ she cried, ‘you’re not washing me at all. What have you done with the sponge? Get a grip! If only I could bend down, if only I could move! I’d soon show you what washing is. Where are the days of my girlhood when I used to swim in the Colorado every morning on my parents’ estate, the supplest of all my girlfriends. And now! When will you learn to wash me, Delamarche, you’re just waving the sponge around, you’re trying as hard as you can, but still I can’t feel anything at all. When I told you not to scrub me raw, I didn’t mean to say that I just wanted to stand around and catch cold. I feel like hopping out of the bath and running off, just as I am.’
But then she didn’t carry out her threat – which she wasn’t actually in a position to do anyway – because Delamarche, worried that she might catch cold, seemed to have seized her and pushed her down into the tub, because there was an almighty splash.
‘That’s typical of you, Delamarche,’ said Brunelda, a little more quietly, ‘you make a bad job of something, and then try and get out of it by flattering me unmercifully.’ Then there was silence for a while. ‘They’re kissing now,’ said Robinson, and raised his eyebrows.
‘What work is there to do now?’ asked Karl. Now that he had decided to stay here, he wanted to get to work. He left Robinson, who didn’t reply, behind on the sofa, and started to pull apart the great bed, still compacted by the weight of the sleepers who had lain on it all night, in order to fold each single item of it neatly, as probably hadn’t been done for weeks.
‘Do go and see what’s happening, Delamarche,’ said Brunelda, ‘I think they’re attacking our bed. You need to be on your guard the whole time, there’s never a moment’s peace. You’ll have to be stricter with those two, or they’ll just do as they please.’ ‘It’s bound to be the little fellow with his bloody industriousness,’ said Delamarche, and it sounded as though he was about to erupt out of the washroom, Karl hurriedly dropped everything, but fortunately Brunelda said: ‘Don’t leave me, Delamarche, don’t leave me. Oh, the water’s so hot, it’s making me so tired. Stay here with me, Delamarche.’ Only then did Karl really notice how there were swathes of steam rising incessantly behind the dressers.
Robinson’s hand flew to his cheek, as though Karl had done something terrible. ‘I want everything left just exactly as it was before,’ came Delamarche’s voice, ‘don’t you know Brunelda likes to lie down for an hour after her bath? What a wretched household! You wait, you’ll catch it from me. Robinson, are you daydreaming again. I’m making you responsible for everything that happens. It’s up to you to keep that boy in check, we’re not going to change the way we do things here to suit him. Whenever we want anything done, you’re useless, and if nothing needs doing, you’re as busy as bees. Go and skulk in a corner somewhere and wait until you’re needed.’
But all that was straightaway forgotten, because Brunelda whispered very feebly, as though overcome by the hot water‘My perfume! I want my perfume!’ ‘Her perfume!’ shouted Delamarche. ‘Get to it.’ Yes, but where was the perfume? Karl looked at Robinson, Robinson looked at Karl. Karl saw that he would have to take the responsibility on his own shoulders, Robinson evidently had no idea where the perfume was, he just lay down on the floor and kept waving both his arms about under the sofa, bringing to light nothing more than tangles of dust and woman’s hair. Karl first hurried to the washstand that was right by the door, but its drawers contained nothing but old English novels, journals and sheet music, and all of them so crammed full that it was impossible to shut them again, once they’d been opened. ‘The perfume!’ groaned Brunelda in the meantime. ‘How long it’s taking! I wonder if I’ll get my perfume today!’ In view of her impatience, Karl of course couldn’t possibly look thoroughly anywhere, he had to rely on cursory impressions. The bottle wasn’t in the washstand, and on top of it were only old jars of medicine and ointments, everything else must have already been taken into the washroom. Maybe the bottle was in the drawer of the dining-table. But, on the way to the table – Karl had only the perfume in his thoughts, nothing else – he collided violently with Robinson, who had finally given up looking under the sofa, and following some dim notion where the perfume might be, had walked blindly into Karl. The clash of heads was clearly audible. Karl remained mute, Robinson carried on on his way, but to relieve his pain, let out a long and exaggeratedly loud howl.
‘Instead of trying to find my perfume, they’re ragging,’ said Brunelda. ‘This household is making me ill, Delamarche, I can just tell I’m going to die in your arms. I must have the perfume,’ she then cried, pulling herself together, ‘I simply must have it. I’m not leaving the bath until they bring it, even if I have to stay here all day.’ And she petulantly brought her fist down into the water, so that it splashed.
But the perfume wasn’t in the dining-table drawer either, though that was full of Brunelda’s toiletries, such things as old powder puffs, jars of cream, hairbrushes, curls and lots of tangled and stuck-together things, but not the perfume. And Robinson, still wailing, in a corner where there were about a hundred stacked-up boxes and cartons, opening and rummaging through them all one after another, each time causing half the contents, sewing things and letters for the most part, to fall to the floor where they remained, could find nothing either as he occasionally signified to Karl by shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.
Then Delamarche in his underwear leapt out of the washroom, while Brunelda could be heard crying hysterically. Karl and Robinson stopped their search and looked at Delamarche, who, soaked to the skin, and with water pouring off his face and hair as well, exclaimed: ‘Now will you kindly start looking.’ ‘Here!’ he commanded Karl, and ‘You there!’ Robinson. Karl really did look, and even checked places that had already been assigned to Robinson, but he was no more able to find the perfume than Robinson, who devoted most of
his energy to keeping an eye out for Delamarche, who was stamping up and down the room as far as it went, undoubtedly longing to give both Karl and Robinson a good thrashing.
‘Delamarche!’ cried Brunelda, ‘come and dry me at least. Those two won’t manage to find the perfume, and will only make a mess. Tell them to stop looking. Right away! And put everything down! And not touch anything! They’ll turn our apartment into a pigsty. Grab hold of them Delamarche, if they don’t stop! But they’re still at it, I heard a box falling. They’re not to pick it up, leave everything where it is, and just get out of the room! Bolt the door behind them, and come back to me. I’ve been lying in the water far too long already, my legs are getting quite cold.’
‘All right, Brunelda, all right,’ cried Delamarche, and hurried to the door with Karl and Robinson. Before he let them go, though, he instructed them to get some breakfast and if possible to borrow a good perfume for Brunelda.
‘It’s so dirty and messy in your flat,’ said Karl once they were in the corridor, ‘as soon as we’re back with the breakfast, we’ll have to start tidying up.’
‘If only I wasn’t in such pain,’ said Robinson. ‘The way I’m treated!’ Robinson was certainly offended that Brunelda didn’t draw the slightest distinction between himself, who had been serving her for months, and Karl, who had only been recruited yesterday. But that was really all he deserved, and Karl said: ‘You must pull yourself together.’ But in order not to consign him to complete despair, he said: ‘It’s a job that just needs doing once, and then it’ll be done. I’ll make a bed for you behind the chests, and once everything’s a bit neater, you’ll be able to lie there all day and not have to bother about anything, and then you’ll have your health back soon enough.’
‘So you’ve seen for yourself what my condition is like,’ said Robinson, and turned away from Karl, to be alone with his suffering self. ‘But will they ever let me lie in peace?’