V

V

To his own surprise K. had little difficulty in obtaining an interview with the Superintendent. He sought to explain this to himself by the fact that, going by his experience hitherto, official intercourse with the authorities for him was always very easy. This was caused on the one hand by the fact that the word had obviously gone out once and for all to treat his case with the external marks of indulgence, and on the other, by the admirable autonomy of the service, which one divined to be peculiarly effective precisely where it was not visibly present. At the mere thought of those facts, K. was often in danger of considering his situation hopeful; nevertheless, after such fits of easy confidence, he would hasten to tell himself that just there lay his danger.

Direct intercourse with the authorities was not particularly difficult then, for well-organised as they might be, all they did was to guard the distant and invisible interests of distant and invisible masters, while K. fought for something vitally near to him, for himself, and moreover, at least at the very beginning, on his own initiative, for he was the attacker; and besides he fought not only for himself, but clearly for other powers as well which he did not know, but in which, without infringing the regulations of the authorities, he was permitted to believe. But now by the fact that they had at once amply met his wishes in all unimportant matters⁠—and hitherto only unimportant matters had come up⁠—they had robbed him of the possibility of light and easy victories, and with that of the satisfaction which must accompany them and the well-grounded confidence for further and greater struggles, which must result from them. Instead, they let K. go anywhere he liked⁠—of course only within the village⁠—and thus pampered and enervated him, ruled out all possibility of conflict, and transposed him to an unofficial, totally unrecognised, troubled and alien existence. In this life it might easily happen, if he were not always on his guard, that one day or other, in spite of the amiability of the authorities and the scrupulous fulfilment of all his exaggeratedly light duties, he might⁠—deceived by the apparent favour shown him⁠—conduct himself so imprudently that he might get a fall; and the authorities, still ever mild and friendly, and as it were against their will, but in the name of some public regulation unknown to him, might have to come and clear him out of the way. And what was it, this other life to which he was consigned? Never yet had K. seen vocation and life so interlaced as here, so interlaced that sometimes one might think that they had exchanged places. What importance, for example, had the power, merely formal up till now, which Klamm exercised over K.’s services, compared with the very real power which Klamm possessed in K.’s bedroom. So it came about that while a light and frivolous bearing, a certain deliberate carelessness was sufficient when one came in direct contact with the authorities, one needed in everything else the greatest caution, and had to look around on every side before one made a single step.

K. soon found his opinion of the authorities of the place confirmed when he went to see the Superintendent. The Superintendent, a kindly, stout, clean-shaven man, was laid up; he was suffering from a severe attack of gout, and received K. in bed. “So here is our Land Surveyor,” he said, and tried to sit up, failed in the attempt and flung himself back again on the cushions, pointing apologetically to his leg. In the faint light of the room, where the tiny windows were still further darkened by curtains, a noiseless, almost shadowy woman pushed forward a chair for K. and placed it beside the bed. “Take a seat, Land Surveyor, take a seat,” said the Inspector, “and let me know your wishes.” K. read out Klamm’s letter and adjoined a few remarks to it. Again he had this sense of extraordinary ease in intercourse with the authorities. They seemed literally to bear every burden, one could lay everything on their shoulders and remain free and untouched oneself. As if he too felt this in his way, the Superintendent made a movement of discomfort on the bed. At length he said: “I know about the whole business as, indeed, you have remarked. The reason why I’ve done nothing is firstly, that I’ve been unwell, and secondly, that you’ve been so long in coming; I thought finally that you had given up the business. But now that you’ve been so kind as to look me up, really I must tell you the plain unvarnished truth of the matter. You’ve been taken on as Land Surveyor, as you say, but, unfortunately, we have no need of a Land Surveyor. There wouldn’t be the least use for one here. The frontiers of our little state are marked out and all officially recorded. So what should we do with a Land Surveyor?” Though he had not given the matter a moment’s thought before, K. was convinced now at the bottom of his heart that he had expected some such response as this. Exactly for that reason he was able to reply immediately: “This is a great surprise for me. It throws all my calculations out. I can only hope that there’s some misunderstanding.” “No, unfortunately,” said the Superintendent, “it’s as I’ve said.” “But how is that possible?” cried K. “Surely I haven’t made this endless journey just be sent back again.” “That’s another question,” replied the Superintendent, “which isn’t for me to decide, but how this misunderstanding became possible, I can certainly explain that. In such a large governmental office as the Count’s, it may occasionally happen that one department ordains this, another that; neither knows of the other, and though the supreme control is absolutely efficient, it comes by its nature too late, and so every now and then a trifling miscalculation arises. Of course that applies only to the pettiest little affairs, as for example your case. In great matters I’ve never known of any error yet, but even little affairs are often painful enough. Now as for your case, I’ll be open with you about its history, and make no official mystery of it⁠—I’m not enough of the official for that, I’m a farmer and always will remain one. A long time ago⁠—I had only been Superintendent for a few months⁠—there came an order, I can’t remember from what department, in which in the usual categorical way of the gentlemen up there, it was made known that a Land Surveyor was to be called in, and the municipality were instructed to hold themselves ready for the plans and measurements necessary for his work. This order obviously couldn’t have concerned you, for it was many years ago, and I shouldn’t have remembered it if I weren’t ill just now and with ample time in bed to think of the most absurd things⁠—Mizzi,” he said suddenly interrupting his narrative, to the woman who was still flitting about the room in incomprehensible activity, “please have a look in the cabinet, perhaps you’ll find the order.” “You see it belongs to my first months here,” he explained to K., “at that time I still filed everything away.” The woman opened the cabinet at once. K. and the Superintendent looked on. The cabinet was crammed full of papers. When it was opened two large packages of papers rolled out, tied in round bundles, as one usually binds firewood; the woman sprang back in alarm. “It must be down below, at the bottom,” said the Superintendent, directing operations from the bed. Gathering the papers in both arms the woman obediently threw them all out of the cabinet so as to read those at the bottom. The papers now covered half the floor. “A great deal of work is got through here,” said the Superintendent nodding his head, “and that’s only a small fraction of it. I’ve put away the most important pile in the shed, but the great mass of it has simply gone astray. Who could keep it all together? But there’s piles and piles more in the shed.” “Will you be able to find the order?” he said turning again to his wife, “you must look for a document with the word Land Surveyor underlined in blue pencil.” “It’s too dark,” said the woman, “I’ll fetch a candle,” and she stamped through the papers to the door. “My wife is a great help to me,” said the Superintendent, “in these difficult official affairs, and yet we can never quite keep up with them. True, I have another assistant for the writing that has to be done, the teacher; but all the same it’s impossible to get things shipshape, there’s always a lot of business that has to be left lying, it has been put away in that chest there,” and he pointed to another cabinet. “And just now, when I’m laid up, it has got the upper hand,” he said, and lay back with a weary yet proud air. “Couldn’t I,” asked K., seeing that the woman had now returned with the candle and was kneeling before the chest looking for the paper, “couldn’t I help your wife to look for it?” The Superintendent smilingly shook his head: “As I said before, I don’t want to make any parade of official secrecy before you, but to let you look through these papers yourself⁠—no, I can’t go so far as that.” Now stillness fell in the room, only the rustling of the papers was to be heard; it looked, indeed, for a few minutes, as if the Superintendent were dozing. A faint rapping on the door made K. turn round. It was of course the assistants. All the same they showed already some of the effects of their training, they did not rush at once into the room, but whispered at first through the door which was slightly ajar: “It’s cold out here.” “Who’s that?” asked the Superintendent, starting up. “It’s only my assistants,” replied K. “I don’t know where to ask them to wait for me, it’s too cold outside and here they would be in the way.” “They won’t disturb me,” said the Superintendent indulgently. “Ask them to come in. Besides I know them. Old acquaintances.” “But they’re in my way,” K. replied bluntly, letting his gaze wander from the assistants to the Superintendent and back again, and finding on the faces of all three the same smile. “But seeing you’re here as it is,” he went on experimentally, “stay and help the Superintendent’s lady there to look for a document with the word Land Surveyor underlined in blue pencil.” The Superintendent raised no objection. What had not been permitted to K. was allowed to the assistants; they threw themselves at once on the papers, but they did not so much seek for anything as rummage about in the heap, and while one was spelling out a document the other would immediately snatch it out of his hand. The woman meanwhile knelt before the empty chest, she seemed to have completely given up looking, in any case the candle was standing quite far away from her.

“The assistants,” said the Superintendent with a self-complacent smile, which seemed to indicate that he had the lead, though nobody was in a position even to assume this, “they’re in your way then? Yet they’re your own assistants.” “No,” replied K. coolly, “they only ran into me here.” “Ran into you,” said he; “you mean, of course, were assigned to you.” “All right then, were assigned to me,” said K., “but they might as well have fallen from the sky, for all the thought that was spent in choosing them.” “Nothing here is done without taking thought,” said the Superintendent, actually forgetting the pain in his foot and sitting up. “Nothing!” said K., “and what about my being summoned here then?” “Even your being summoned was carefully considered,” said the Superintendent; “it was only certain auxiliary circumstances that entered and confused the matter, I’ll prove it to you from the official papers.” “The papers will not be found,” said K. “Not be found?” said the Superintendent. “Mizzi, please hurry up a bit! Still I can tell you the story even without the papers. We replied with thanks to the order that I’ve mentioned already, saying that we didn’t need a Land Surveyor. But this reply doesn’t appear to have reached the original department⁠—I’ll call it A⁠—but by mistake went to another department, B. So Department A remained without an answer, but unfortunately our full reply didn’t reach B either; whether it was that the order itself was not enclosed by us, or whether it got lost on the way⁠—it was certainly not lost in my department, that I can vouch for⁠—in any case all that arrived at Department B was the covering letter, in which was merely noted that the enclosed order, unfortunately an impractical one, was concerned with the engagement of a Land Surveyor. Meanwhile Department A was waiting for our answer, they had, of course, made a memorandum of the case, but as, excusably enough, often happens and is bound to happen even under the most efficient handling, our correspondent trusted to the fact that we would answer him, after which he would either summon the Land Surveyor, or else if need be write us further about the matter. As a result he never thought of referring to his memorandum and the whole thing fell into oblivion. But in Department B the covering letter came into the hands of a correspondent, famed for his conscientiousness, Sordini by name, an Italian; it is incomprehensible even to me, though I am one of the initiated, why a man of his capacities is left in an almost subordinate position. This Sordini naturally sent us back the unaccompanied covering letter for completion. Now months, if not years, had passed by this time since that first communication from Department A, which is understandable enough, for when⁠—which is the rule⁠—a document goes the proper route, it reaches the department at the outside in a day and is settled that day, but when it once in a while loses its way, then in an organisation so efficient as ours its proper destination must be sought for literally with desperation, otherwise it mightn’t be found; and then, well then the search may last really for a long time. Accordingly, when we got Sordini’s note we had only a vague memory of the affair, there were only two of us to do the work at that time, Mizzi and myself, the teacher hadn’t yet been assigned to us, we only kept copies in the most important instances, so we could only reply in the most vague terms that we knew nothing of this engagement of a Land Surveyor and that as far as we knew there was no need for one.”

“But,” here the Superintendent interrupted himself as if, carried on by his tale, he had gone too far, or as if at least it were possible that he had gone too far, “Doesn’t the story bore you?”

“No,” said K., “it amuses me.”

Thereupon the Superintendent said: “I’m not telling it to amuse you.”

“It only amuses me,” said K., “because it gives me an insight into the ludicrous bungling which in certain circumstances may decide the life of a human being.”

“You haven’t been given any insight into that yet,” replied the Superintendent gravely, “and I can go on with my story. Naturally Sordini was not satisfied with our reply. I admire the man, although he is a plague to me. He literally distrusts everyone; even if, for instance, he has come to know somebody, through countless circumstances, as the most reliable man in the world, he distrusts him as soon as fresh circumstances arise, as if he didn’t want to know him, or rather as if he wanted to know that he was a scoundrel. I consider that right and proper, an official must behave like that; unfortunately with my nature I can’t follow out this principle; you see yourself how frank I am with you, a stranger, about those things, I can’t act in any other way. But Sordini, on the contrary, was seized by suspicion when he read our reply. Now a huge correspondence began to grow. Sordini enquired how I had suddenly recalled that a Land Surveyor shouldn’t be summoned. I replied, drawing in Mizzi’s splendid memory, that the first suggestion had come from the chancellory itself (but that it had come from a different department we had of course forgotten long before this). Sordini countered: ‘Why had I only mentioned this official order now?’ I replied: ‘because I had just remembered it.’ Sordini: ‘That was very extraordinary.’ Myself: ‘It was not in the least extraordinary in such a long-drawn-out business.’ Sordini: ‘Yes it was extraordinary, for the order that I remembered didn’t exist.’ Myself: ‘Of course it didn’t exist, for the whole document had gone a-missing.’ Sordini: ‘But there must be a memorandum extant relating to this first communication, and there wasn’t one extant.’ That drew me up, for that an error should happen in Sordini’s department I neither dared to maintain nor to believe. Perhaps, my dear Land Surveyor, you’ll make the reproach against Sordini in your mind, that in consideration of my assertion he should have been moved at least to make enquiries in the other departments about the affair, But that is just what would have been wrong; I don’t want any blame to attach to this man, no, not even in your thoughts. It’s a working principle of the Head Bureau that the very possibility of error must be ruled out of account. This ground principle is justified by the consummate organisation of the whole authority, and it is necessary if the maximum speed in transacting business is to be attained. So it wasn’t within Sordini’s power to make enquiries in other departments, besides they simply wouldn’t have answered, because they would have guessed at once that it was a case of hunting out a possible error.”

“Allow me, Superintendent, to interrupt you with a question,” said K. “Did you not mention once before a Control Authority? From your description the whole economy is one that would rouse one’s apprehensions if one could imagine the control failing.”

“You’re very strict,” said the Superintendent, “but multiply your strictness a thousand times and it would still be nothing compared with the strictness which the Authority imposes on itself. Only a total stranger could ask a question like yours. Is there a Control Authority? There are only control authorities. Frankly it isn’t their function to hunt out errors in the vulgar sense, for errors don’t happen, and even when once in a while an error does happen, as in your case, who can say finally that it’s an error?”

“This is news indeed!” cried K.

“It’s very old news to me,” said the Superintendent. “Not unlike yourself I’m convinced that an error has occurred, and as a result Sordini is quite ill with despair, and the first Control Officials, whom we have to thank for discovering the source of error, recognise that there is an error. But who can guarantee that the second Control Officials will decide in the same way and the third lot and all the others?”

“That may be,” said K. “I would much rather not mix in these speculations yet, besides this is the first mention I’ve heard of those Control Officials and naturally I can’t understand them yet. But I fancy that two things must be distinguished here: firstly, what is transacted in the offices and can be construed again officially this way or that, and secondly, my own actual person, me myself, situated outside of the offices and threatened by their encroachments, which are so meaningless that I can’t even yet believe in the seriousness of the danger. The first evidently is covered by what you, Superintendent, tell me in such extraordinary and disconcerting detail; all the same I would like to hear a word now about myself.”

“I’m coming to that too,” said the Superintendent, “but you couldn’t understand it without my giving a few more preliminary details. My mentioning the Control Officials just now was premature. So I must turn back to the discrepancies with Sordini. As I said, my defence gradually weakened. But whenever Sordini has in his hands even the slightest hold against anyone, he has as good as won, for then his vigilance, energy and alertness are actually increased and it’s a terrible moment for the victim, and a glorious one for the victim’s enemies. It’s only because in other circumstances I have experienced this last feeling that I’m able to speak of him as I do. All the same I have never managed yet to come within sight of him. He can’t get down here, he’s so overwhelmed with work; from the descriptions I’ve heard of his room every wall is covered with columns of documents tied together, piled on top of one another; those are only the documents that Sordini is working on at the time, and as bundles of papers are continually being taken away and brought in, and all in great haste, those columns are always falling on the floor, and it’s just those perpetual crashes, following fast on one another, that have come to distinguish Sordini’s workroom. Yes, Sordini is a worker and he gives the same scrupulous care to the smallest case as to the greatest.”

“Superintendent,” said K., “you always call my case one of the smallest, and yet it has given hosts of officials a great deal of trouble, and if, perhaps, it was unimportant at the start, yet through the diligence of officials of Sordini’s type it has grown into a great affair. Very much against my will, unfortunately, for my ambition doesn’t run to seeing columns of documents, all about me, rising and crashing together, but to working quietly at my drawing-board as a humble Land Surveyor.”

“No,” said the Superintendent, “it’s not at all a great affair, in that respect you’ve no ground for complaint⁠—it’s one of the least important among the least important. The importance of a case is not determined by the amount of work it involves, you’re far from understanding the authorities if you believe that. But even if it’s a question of the amount of work, your case would remain one of the slightest; ordinary cases, those without any so-called errors I mean, provide far more work and far more profitable work as well. Besides you know absolutely nothing yet of the actual work which was caused by your case. I’ll tell you about that now. Well, presently Sordini left me out of count, but the clerks arrived, and every day a formal enquiry involving the most prominent members of the community was held in the Herrenhof. The majority stuck by me, only a few held back⁠—the question of a Land Surveyor appeals to peasants⁠—they scented secret plots and injustices and whatnot, found a leader, no less, and Sordini was forced by their assertions to the conviction that if I had brought the question forward in the Town Council, every voice wouldn’t have been against the summoning of a Land Surveyor. So a commonplace⁠—namely that a Land Surveyor wasn’t needed⁠—was turned after all into a doubtful matter at least. A man called Brunswick distinguished himself especially, you don’t know him, of course; probably he’s not a bad man, only stupid and fanciful, he’s a son-in-law of Lasemann’s.”

“Of the Master Tanner?” asked K., and he described the full-bearded man whom he had seen at Lasemann’s.

“Yes, that’s the man,” said the Superintendent.

“I know his wife, too,” said K. a little at random.

“That’s possible,” replied the Superintendent briefly.

“She’s beautiful,” said K., “but rather pale and sickly. She comes, of course, from the Castle?” It was half a question.

The Superintendent looked at the clock, poured some medicine into a spoon, and gulped at it hastily.

“You only know the official side of the Castle?” asked K. bluntly.

“That’s so,” replied the Superintendent, with an ironical and yet grateful smile, “and it’s the most important. And as for Brunswick; if we could exclude him from the council we would almost all be glad, and Lasemann not least. But at that time Brunswick gained some influence, he’s not an orator of course, but a shouter; but even that can do a lot. And so it came about that I was forced to lay the matter before the Town Council; however, it was Brunswick’s only immediate triumph, for of course the Town Council refused by a large majority to hear anything about a Land Surveyor. That too was a long time ago, but the whole time since, the matter has never been allowed to rest, partly owing to Sordini’s conscientiousness, who by the most painful sifting of data sought to fathom the motives of the majority no less than the opposition, partly owing to Brunswick’s stupidity and ambition, who had several personal acquaintances among the authorities whom he set working with fresh inventions of his fancy. Sordini, at any rate, didn’t let himself be deceived by Brunswick⁠—how could Brunswick deceive Sordini?⁠—but simply to prevent himself from being deceived a new sifting of data was necessary, and long before it was ended Brunswick had already thought out something new; he’s very very versatile, no doubt of it, that goes with his stupidity. And now I come to a peculiar characteristic of our administrative apparatus. Along with its precision it’s extremely sensitive as well. When an affair has been weighed for a very long time, it may happen, even before the matter has been fully considered, that suddenly in a flash the decision comes in some unforeseen place that, moreover, can’t be found any longer later on, a decision that settles the matter, if in most cases justly, yet all the same arbitrarily. It’s as if the administrative apparatus were unable any longer to bear the tension, the yearlong irritation caused by the same affair⁠—probably trivial in itself⁠—and had hit upon the decision by itself, without the assistance of the officials. Of course a miracle didn’t happen and certainly it was some clerk who hit upon the solution or the unwritten decision, but in any case it couldn’t be discovered by us at least, by us here, or even by the Head Bureau, which clerk had decided in this case and on what grounds. The Control Officials only discovered that much later, but we will never learn it; besides by this time it would scarcely interest anybody. Now, as I said, it’s just these decisions that are generally excellent. The only annoying thing about them⁠—it’s usually the case with such things⁠—is that one learns too late about them and so in the meantime keeps on still passionately canvassing things that were decided long ago. I don’t know whether in your case a decision of this kind happened⁠—some people say yes, others no⁠—but if it had happened then the summons would have been sent to you and you would have made the long journey to this place, much time would have passed, and in the meanwhile Sordini would have been working away here all the time on the same case until he was exhausted, Brunswick would have been intriguing and I would have been plagued by both of them. I only indicate this possibility, but I know the following for a fact: a Control Official discovered meanwhile that a query had gone out from Department A to the Town Council many years before regarding a Land Surveyor, without having received a reply up till then. A new enquiry was sent to me, and now the whole business was really cleared up. Department A was satisfied with my answer that a Land Surveyor was not needed, and Sordini was forced to recognise that he had not been equal to this case and, innocently it is true, had got through so much nerve-racking work for nothing. If new work hadn’t come rushing in as ever from every side, and if your case hadn’t been a very unimportant case⁠—one might almost say the least important among the unimportant⁠—we might all of us have breathed freely again, I fancy even Sordini himself; Brunswick was the only one that grumbled, but that was only ridiculous. And now imagine to yourself, Land Surveyor, my dismay when after the fortunate end of the whole business⁠—and since then, too, a great deal of time had passed by⁠—suddenly you appear and it begins to look as if the whole thing must begin all over again. You’ll understand of course that I’m firmly resolved, so far as I’m concerned, not to let that happen in any case?”

“Certainly,” said K., “but I understand better still that a terrible abuse of my case, and probably of the law, is being carried on. As for me, I shall know how to protect myself against it.”

“How will you do it?” asked the Superintendent.

“I’m not at liberty to reveal that,” said K.

“I don’t want to press myself upon you,” said the Superintendent, “only I would like you to reflect that in me you have⁠—I won’t say a friend, for we’re complete strangers of course⁠—but to some extent a business friend. The only thing I will not agree to is that you should be taken on as Land Surveyor, but in other matters you can draw on me with confidence, frankly to the extent of my power, which isn’t great.”

“You always talk of the one thing,” said K., “that I shan’t be taken on as Land Surveyor, but I’m Land Surveyor already, here is Klamm’s letter.”

“Klamm’s letter,” said the Superintendent. “That’s valuable and worthy of respect on account of Klamm’s signature which seems to be genuine, but all the same⁠—yet I won’t dare to advance it on my own unsupported word. Mizzi,” he called, and then: “But what are you doing?”

Mizzi and the assistants, left so long unnoticed, had clearly not found the paper they were looking for, and had then tried to shut everything up again in the cabinet, but on account of the confusion and superabundance of papers had not succeeded. Then the assistants had hit upon the idea which they were carrying out now. They had laid the cabinet on its back on the floor, crammed all the documents in, then along with Mizzi had knelt on the cabinet door and were trying now in this way to get it shut.

“So the paper hasn’t been found,” said the Superintendent. “A pity, but you know the story already; really we don’t need the paper now, besides it will certainly be found sometime yet; probably it’s at the teacher’s place, there’s a great pile of papers there too. But come over here now with the candle, Mizzi, and read this letter for me.”

Mizzi went over and now looked still more grey and insignificant as she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned against the strong vigorous man, who put his arm round her. In the candlelight only her pinched face was cast into relief, its simple and austere lines softened by nothing but age. Hardly had she glanced at the letter when she clasped her hands lightly and said, “From Klamm.” Then they read the letter together, whispered for a moment and at last, just as the assistants gave a “Hurrah!” for they had finally got the cabinet door shut⁠—which earned them a look of silent gratitude from Mizzi⁠—the Superintendent said:

“Mizzi is quite of my opinion and now I am at liberty to express it. This letter is in no sense an official letter, but only a private letter. That can be clearly seen in the very mode of address: ‘My dear Sir.’ Moreover, there isn’t a single word in it showing that you’ve been taken on as Land Surveyor; on the contrary it’s all about state service in general, and even that is not absolutely guaranteed, as you know, that is, the task of proving that you are taken on is laid on you. Finally, you are officially and expressly referred to me, the Superintendent, as your immediate superior, for more detailed information, which, indeed, has in great part been given already. To anyone who knows how to read official communications, and consequently knows still better how to read unofficial letters, all this is only too clear. That you, a stranger, don’t know it doesn’t surprise me. In general the letter means nothing more than that Klamm intends to take a personal interest in you if you should be taken into the state service.”

“Superintendent,” said K., “you interpret the letter so well that nothing remains of it but a signature on a blank sheet of paper. Don’t you see that in doing this you depreciate Klamm’s name, which you pretend to respect?”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” said the Superintendent, “I don’t misconstrue the meaning of the letter, my reading of it doesn’t disparage it, on the contrary. A private letter from Klamm has naturally far more significance than an official letter, but it hasn’t precisely the kind of significance that you attach to it.”

“Do you know Schwarzer?” asked K.

“No,” replied the Superintendent. “Perhaps you know him, Mizzi? You don’t know him either? No, we don’t know him.”

“That’s strange,” said K., “he’s a son of one of the under-castellans.”

“My dear Land Surveyor,” replied the Superintendent, “how on earth should I know all the sons of all the under-castellans?”

“Right,” said K., “then you’ll just have to take my word that he is one. I had a sharp encounter with this Schwarzer on the very day of my arrival. Afterwards he made a telephone enquiry of an under-castellan called Fritz and received the information that I was engaged as Land Surveyor. How do you explain that, Superintendent?”

“Very simply,” replied the Superintendent. “You haven’t once up till now come into real contact with our authorities. All those contacts of yours have been illusory, but owing to your ignorance of the circumstances you take them to be real. And as for the telephone: As you see, in my place, though I’ve certainly enough to do with the authorities, there’s no telephone. In inns and suchlike places it may be of real use, as much use say as a penny in the slot musical instrument, but it’s nothing more than that. Have you ever telephoned here? Yes? Well, then perhaps you’ll understand what I say. In the Castle the telephone works beautifully of course, I’ve been told it’s going there all the time, that naturally speeds up the work a great deal. We can hear this continual telephoning in our telephones down here as a humming and singing, you must have heard it too. Now this humming and singing transmitted by our telephones is the only real and reliable thing you’ll hear, everything else is deceptive. There’s no fixed connection with the Castle, no central exchange which transmits our calls further. When anybody calls up the Castle from here the instruments in all the subordinate departments ring, or rather they would all ring if practically all the departments⁠—I know it for a certainty⁠—didn’t leave their receivers off. Now and then, however, a fatigued official may feel the need of a little distraction, especially in the evenings and at night, and may hang the receiver on. Then we get an answer, but an answer of course that’s merely a practical joke. And that’s very understandable too. For who would take the responsibility of interrupting, in the middle of the night, the extremely important work up there that goes on furiously the whole time, with a message about his own little private troubles? I can’t comprehend how even a stranger can imagine that when he calls up Sordini, for example, it’s really Sordini that answers. Far more probably it’s a little copying clerk from an entirely different department. On the other hand, it may certainly happen once in a blue moon that when one calls up the little copying clerk Sordini will answer himself. Then finally the best thing is to fly from the telephone before the first sound comes through.”

“I didn’t know it was like that, certainly,” said K. “I couldn’t know of all these peculiarities, but I didn’t put much confidence in those telephone conversations and I was always aware that the only things of real importance were those that happened in the Castle itself.”

“No,” said the Superintendent, holding firmly on to the word, “these telephone replies certainly have a meaning, why shouldn’t they? How could a message given by an official from the Castle be unimportant? As I remarked before apropos Klamm’s letter. All these utterances have no official significance; when you attach official significance to them you go astray. On the other hand, their private significance in a friendly or hostile sense is very great, generally greater than an official communication could ever have.”

“Good,” said K. “Granted that all this is so, I should have lots of good friends in the Castle: looked at rightly the sudden inspiration of that department all these years ago⁠—saying that a Land Surveyor should be asked to come⁠—was an act of friendship towards myself; but then in the sequel one act was followed by another, until at last, on an evil day, I was enticed here and then threatened with being thrown out again.”

“There’s a certain amount of truth in your view of the case,” said the Superintendent; “you’re right in thinking that the pronouncements of the Castle are not to be taken literally. But caution is always necessary, not only here, and always the more necessary the more important the pronouncement in question happens to be. But when you went on to talk about being enticed, I ceased to fathom you. If you had followed my explanation more carefully, then you must have seen that the question of your being summoned here is far too difficult to be settled here and now in the course of a short conversation.”

“So the only remaining conclusion,” said K., “is that everything is very uncertain and insoluble, including my being thrown out.”

“Who would take the risk of throwing you out, Land Surveyor?” asked the Superintendent. “The very uncertainty about your summons guarantees you the most courteous treatment, only you’re too sensitive by all appearances. Nobody keeps you here, but that surely doesn’t amount to throwing you out.”

“Oh, Superintendent,” said K., “now again you’re taking far too simple a view of the case. I’ll enumerate for your benefit a few of the things that keep me here: the sacrifice I made in leaving my home, the long and difficult journey, the well-grounded hopes I built on my engagement here, my complete lack of means, the impossibility after this of finding some other suitable job at home, and last but not least my fiancée, who lives here.”

“Oh, Frieda!” said the Superintendent without showing any surprise. “I know. But Frieda would follow you anywhere. As for the rest of what you said, some consideration will be necessary and I’ll communicate with the Castle about it. If a decision should be come to, or if it should be necessary first to interrogate you again, I’ll send for you. Is that agreeable to you?”

“No, absolutely,” said K. “I don’t want any act of favour from the Castle, but my rights.”

“Mizzi,” the Superintendent said to his wife, who still sat pressed against him, and lost in a daydream was playing with Klamm’s letter, which she had folded into the shape of a little boat⁠—K. snatched it from her in alarm. “Mizzi, my foot is beginning to throb again, we must renew the compress.”

K. got up. “Then I’ll take my leave,” he said. “Hm,” said Mizzi, who was already preparing a poultice, “the last one was drawing too strongly.” K. turned away. At his last words the assistants with their usual misplaced zeal to be useful had thrown open both wings of the door. To protect the sickroom from the strong draught of cold air which was rushing in, K. had to be content with making the Superintendent a hasty bow. Then, pushing the assistants in front of him, he rushed out of the room and quickly closed the door.