Cimrmanologie

Chapter 4
Miss Bürstner's Friend
For some time after this, K. found it impossible to exchange even just a
few words with Miss Bürstner. He tried to reach her in many and various
ways but she always found a way to avoid it. He would come
straight home from the office, remain in her room without the light on,
and sit on the sofa with nothing more to distract him than keeping watch
on the empty hallway. If the maid went by and closed the door of the apparently
empty room he would get up after a while and open it again.
He got up an hour earlier than usual in the morning so that he might
perhaps find Miss Bürstner alone as she went to the office. But none of
these efforts brought any success. Then he wrote her a letter, both to the
office and the flat, attempting once more to justify his behaviour, offered
to make whatever amends he could, promised never to cross whatever
boundary she might set him and begged merely to have the chance to
speak to her some time, especially as he was unable to do anything with
Mrs. Grubach either until he had spoken with Miss Bürstner, he finally
informed her that the following Sunday he would stay in his room all
day waiting for a sign from her that there was some hope of his request
being fulfilled, or at least that she would explain to him why she could
not fulfil it even though he had promised to observe whatever stipulations
she might make. The letters were not returned, but there was no
answer either. However, on the following Sunday there was a sign that
seemed clear enough. It was still early when K. noticed, through the keyhole,
that there was an unusual level of activity in the hallway which
soon abated. A French teacher, although she was German and called
Montag, a pale and febrile girl with a slight limp who had previously occupied
a room of her own, was moving into Miss Bürstner's room. She
could be seen shuffling through the hallway for several hours, there was
always another piece of clothing or a blanket or a book that she had forgotten
and had to be fetched specially and brought into the new home.
56

When Mrs. Grubach brought K. his breakfast - ever since the time
when she had made K. so cross she didn't trust the maid to do the slightest
job - he had no choice but to speak to her, for the first time in five
days. "Why is there so much noise in the hallway today?" he asked as she
poured his coffee out, "Can't something be done about it? Does this clearing
out have to be done on a Sunday?" K. did not look up at Mrs.
Grubach, but he saw nonetheless that she seemed to feel some relief as
she breathed in. Even sharp questions like this from Mr. K. she perceived
as forgiveness, or as the beginning of forgiveness. "We're not clearing
anything out, Mr. K.," she said, "it's just that Miss Montag is moving in
with Miss Bürstner and is moving her things across." She said nothing
more, but just waited to see how K. would take it and whether he would
allow her to carry on speaking. But K. kept her in uncertainty, took the
spoon and pensively stirred his coffee while he remained silent. Then he
looked up at her and said, "What about the suspicions you had earlier
about Miss Bürstner, have you given them up?" "Mr. K.," called Mrs.
Grubach, who had been waiting for this very question, as she put her
hands together and held them out towards him. "I just made a chance remark
and you took it so badly. I didn't have the slightest intention of offending
anyone, not you or anyone else. You've known me for long
enough, Mr. K., I'm sure you're convinced of that. You don't know how
I've been suffering for the past few days! That I should tell lies about my
tenants! And you, Mr. K., you believed it! And said I should give you notice!
Give you notice!" At this last outcry, Mrs. Grubach was already
choking back her tears, she raised her apron to her face and blubbered
out loud.
"Oh, don't cry Mrs. Grubach," said K., looking out the window, he was
thinking only of Miss Bürstner and how she was accepting an unknown
girl into her room. "Now don't cry," he said again as he turned his look
back into the room where Mrs. Grubach was still crying. "I meant no
harm either when I said that. It was simply a misunderstanding between
us. That can happen even between old friends sometimes." Mrs. Grubach
pulled her apron down to below her eyes to see whether K. really was attempting
a reconciliation. "Well, yes, that's how it is," said K., and as
Mrs. Grubach's behaviour indicated that the captain had said nothing he
dared to add, "Do you really think, then, that I'd want to make an enemy
of you for the sake of a girl we hardly know?" "Yes, you're quite right,
Mr. K.," said Mrs. Grubach, and then, to her misfortune, as soon as she
felt just a little freer to speak, she added something rather inept. "I kept
asking myself why it was that Mr. K. took such an interest in Miss
57

Bürstner. Why does he quarrel with me over her when he knows that
any cross word from him and I can't sleep that night? And I didn't say
anything about Miss Bürstner that I hadn't seen with my own eyes." K.
said nothing in reply, he should have chased her from the room as soon
as she had opened her mouth, and he didn't want to do that. He contented
himself with merely drinking his coffee and letting Mrs. Grubach feel
that she was superfluous. Outside, the dragging steps of Miss Montag
could still be heard as she went from one side of the hallway to the other.
"Do you hear that?" asked K. pointing his hand at the door. "Yes," said
Mrs. Grubach with a sigh, "I wanted to give her some help and I wanted
the maid to help her too but she's stubborn, she wants to move
everything in herself. I wonder at Miss Bürstner. I often feel it's a burden
for me to have Miss Montag as a tenant but Miss Bürstner accepts her into
her room with herself." "There's nothing there for you to worry about"
said K., crushing the remains of a sugar lump in his cup. "Does she cause
you any trouble?" "No," said Mrs. Grubach, "in itself it's very good to
have her there, it makes another room free for me and I can let my nephew,
the captain, occupy it. I began to worry he might be disturbing you
when I had to let him live in the living room next to you over the last few
days. He's not very considerate." "What an idea!" said K. standing up,
"there's no question of that. You seem to think that because I can't stand
this to-ing and fro-ing of Miss Montag that I'm over-sensitive - and there
she goes back again." Mrs. Grubach appeared quite powerless. "Should I
tell her to leave moving the rest of her things over till later, then, Mr. K.?
If that's what you want I'll do it immediately." "But she has to move in
with Miss Bürstner!" said K. "Yes," said Mrs. Grubach, without quite understanding
what K. meant. "So she has to take her things over there."
Mrs. Grubach just nodded. K. was irritated all the more by this dumb
helplessness which, seen from the outside, could have seemed like a kind
of defiance on her part. He began to walk up and down the room
between the window and the door, thus depriving Mrs. Grubach of the
chance to leave, which she otherwise probably would have done.
Just as K. once more reached the door, someone knocked at it. It was
the maid, to say that Miss Montag would like to have a few words with
Mr. K., and therefore requested that he come to the dining room where
she was waiting for him. K. heard the maid out thoughtfully, and then
looked back at the shocked Mrs. Grubach in a way that was almost contemptuous.
His look seemed to be saying that K. had been expecting this
invitation for Miss Montag for a long time, and that it was confirmation
of the suffering he had been made to endure that Sunday morning from
58

Mrs. Grubach's tenants. He sent the maid back with the reply that he was
on his way, then he went to the wardrobe to change his coat, and in answer
to Mrs. Grubach's gentle whining about the nuisance Miss Montag
was causing merely asked her to clear away the breakfast things. "But
you've hardly touched it," said Mrs. Grubach. "Oh just take it away!"
shouted K. It seemed to him that Miss Montag was mixed up in
everything and made it repulsive to him.
As he went through the hallway he looked at the closed door of Miss
Bürstner's room. But it wasn't there that he was invited, but the dining
room, to which he yanked the door open without knocking.
The room was long but narrow with one window. There was only
enough space available to put two cupboards at an angle in the corner by
the door, and the rest of the room was entirely taken up with the long
dining table which started by the door and reached all the way to the
great window, which was thus made almost inaccessible. The table was
already laid for a large number of people, as on Sundays almost all the
tenants ate their dinner here at midday.
When K. entered, Miss Montag came towards him from the window
along one side of the table. They greeted each other in silence. Then Miss
Montag, her head unusually erect as always, said, "I'm not sure whether
you know me." K. looked at her with a frown. "Of course I do," he said,
"you've been living here with Mrs. Grubach for quite some time now."
"But I get the impression you don't pay much attention to what's going
on in the lodging house," said Miss Montag. "No," said K. "Would you
not like to sit down?" said Miss Montag. In silence, the two of them drew
chairs out from the farthest end of the table and sat down facing each
other. But Miss Montag stood straight up again as she had left her handbag
on the window sill and went to fetch it; she shuffled down the whole
length of the room. When she came back, the handbag lightly swinging,
she said, "I'd like just to have a few words with you on behalf of my
friend. She would have come herself, but she's feeling a little unwell
today. Perhaps you'll be kind enough to forgive her and listen to me instead.
There's anyway nothing that she could have said that I won't. On
the contrary, in fact, I think I can say even more than her because I'm relatively
impartial. Would you not agree?" "What is there to say, then?"
answered K., who was tired of Miss Montag continuously watching his
lips. In that way she took control of what he wanted to say before he said
it. "Miss Bürstner clearly refuses to grant me the personal meeting that I
asked her for." "That's how it is," said Miss Montag, " or rather, that's not
at all how it is, the way you put it is remarkably severe. Generally
59

speaking, meetings are neither granted nor the opposite. But it can be
that meetings are considered unnecessary, and that's how it is here.
Now, after your comment, I can speak openly. You asked my friend,
verbally or in writing, for the chance to speak with her. Now my friend is
aware of your reasons for asking for this meeting - or at least I suppose
she is - and so, for reasons I know nothing about, she is quite sure that it
would be of no benefit to anyone if this meeting actually took place.
Moreover, it was only yesterday, and only very briefly, that she made it
clear to me that such a meeting could be of no benefit for yourself either,
she feels that it can only have been a matter of chance that such an idea
came to you, and that even without any explanations from her, you will
very soon come to realise yourself, if you have not done so already, the
futility of your idea. My answer to that is that although it may be quite
right, I consider it advantageous, if the matter is to be made perfectly
clear, to give you an explicit answer. I offered my services in taking on
the task, and after some hesitation my friend conceded. I hope, however,
also to have acted in your interests, as even the slightest uncertainty in
the least significant of matters will always remain a cause of suffering
and if, as in this case, it can be removed without substantial effort, then it
is better if that is done without delay." "I thank you," said K. as soon as
Miss Montag had finished. He stood slowly up, looked at her, then
across the table, then out the window - the house opposite stood there in
the sun - and went to the door. Miss Montag followed him a few paces,
as if she did not quite trust him. At the door, however, both of them had
to step back as it opened and Captain Lanz entered. This was the first
time that K. had seen him close up. He was a large man of about forty
with a tanned, fleshy face. He bowed slightly, intending it also for K.,
and then went over to Miss Montag and deferentially kissed her hand.
He was very elegant in the way he moved. The courtesy he showed towards
Miss Montag made a striking contrast with the way she had been
treated by K. Nonetheless, Miss Montag did not seem to be cross with K.
as it even seemed to him that she wanted to introduce the captain. K.
however, did not want to be introduced, he would not have been able to
show any sort of friendliness either to Miss Montag or to the captain, the
kiss on the hand had, for K., bound them into a group which would keep
him at a distance from Miss Bürstner whilst at the same time seeming to
be totally harmless and unselfish. K. thought, however, that he saw more
than that, he thought he also saw that Miss Montag had chosen a means
of doing it that was good, but two-edged. She exaggerated the importance
of the relationship between K. and Miss Bürstner, and above all she
60

exaggerated the importance of asking to speak with her and she tried at
the same time to make out that K. was exaggerating everything. She
would be disappointed, K. did not want to exaggerate anything, he was
aware that Miss Bürstner was a little typist who would not offer him
much resistance for long. In doing so he deliberately took no account of
what Mrs. Grubach had told him about Miss Bürstner. All these things
were going through his mind as he left the room with hardly a polite
word. He wanted to go straight to his room, but a little laugh from Miss
Montag that he heard from the dining room behind him brought him to
the idea that he might prepare a surprise for the two of them, the captain
and Miss Montag. He looked round and listened to find out if there
might be any disturbance from any of the surrounding rooms, everywhere
was quiet, the only thing to be heard was the conversation from
the dining room and Mrs. Grubach's voice from the passage leading to
the kitchen. This seemed an opportune time, K. went to Miss Bürstner's
room and knocked gently. There was no sound so he knocked again but
there was still no answer in reply. Was she asleep? Or was she really unwell?
Or was she just pretending as she realised it could only be K.
knocking so gently? K. assumed she was pretending and knocked
harder, eventually, when the knocking brought no result, he carefully
opened the door with the sense of doing something that was not only
improper but also pointless. In the room there was no-one. What's more,
it looked hardly at all like the room K. had known before. Against the
wall there were now two beds behind one another, there were clothes
piled up on three chairs near the door, a wardrobe stood open. Miss Bürstner
must have gone out while Miss Montag was speaking to him in the
dining room. K. was not greatly bothered by this, he had hardly expected
to be able to find Miss Bürstner so easily and had made this attempt
for little more reason than to spite Miss Montag. But that made it all the
more embarrassing for him when, as he was closing the door again, he
saw Miss Montag and the captain talking in the open doorway of the
dining room. They had probably been standing there ever since K. had
opened the door, they avoided seeming to observe K. but chatted lightly
and followed his movements with glances, the absent minded glances to
the side such as you make during a conversation. But these glances were
heavy for K., and he rushed alongside the wall back into his own room.
61

Chapter 5
The whip-man
One evening, a few days later, K. was walking along one of the corridors
that separated his office from the main stairway - he was nearly the last
one to leave for home that evening, there remained only a couple of
workers in the light of a single bulb in the dispatch department - when
he heard a sigh from behind a door which he had himself never opened
but which he had always thought just led into a junk room. He stood in
amazement and listened again to establish whether he might not be mistaken.
For a while there was silence, but then came some more sighs. His
first thought was to fetch one of the servitors, it might well have been
worth having a witness present, but then he was taken by an uncontrollable
curiosity that make him simply yank the door open. It was, as he
had thought, a junk room. Old, unusable forms, empty stone ink-bottles
lay scattered behind the entrance. But in the cupboard-like room itself
stood three men, crouching under the low ceiling. A candle fixed on a
shelf gave them light. "What are you doing here?" asked K. quietly, but
crossly and without thinking. One of the men was clearly in charge, and
attracted attention by being dressed in a kind of dark leather costume
which left his neck and chest and his arms exposed. He did not answer.
But the other two called out, "Mr. K.! We're to be beaten because you
made a complaint about us to the examining judge." And now, K. finally
realised that it was actually the two policemen, Franz and Willem, and
that the third man held a cane in his hand with which to beat them.
"Well," said K., staring at them, "I didn't make any complaint, I only said
what took place in my home. And your behaviour was not entirely unobjectionable,
after all." "Mr. K.," said Willem, while Franz clearly tried to
shelter behind him as protection from the third man, "if you knew how
badly we get paid you wouldn't think so badly of us. I've got a family to
feed, and Franz here wanted to get married, you just have to get more
money where you can, you can't do it just by working hard, not however
hard you try. I was sorely tempted by your fine clothes, policemen aren't
62

allowed to do that sort of thing, course they aren't, and it wasn't right of
us, but it's tradition that the clothes go to the officers, that's how it's always
been, believe me; and it's understandable too, isn't it, what can
things like that mean for anyone unlucky enough to be arrested? But if
he starts talking about it openly then the punishment has to follow." "I
didn't know about any of this that you've been telling me, and I made no
sort of request that you be punished, I was simply acting on principle."
"Franz," said Willem, turning to the other policeman, "didn't I tell you
that the gentleman didn't say he wanted us to be punished? Now you
can hear for yourself, he didn't even know we'd have to be punished."
"Don't you let them persuade you, talking like that," said the third man
to K., "this punishment is both just and unavoidable." "Don't listen to
him," said Willem, interrupting himself only to quickly bring his hand to
his mouth when it had received a stroke of the cane, "we're only being
punished because you made a complaint against us. Nothing would
have happened to us otherwise, not even if they'd found out what we'd
done. Can you call that justice? Both of us, me especially, we'd proved
our worth as good police officers over a long period - you've got to admit
yourself that as far as official work was concerned we did the job well -
things looked good for us, we had prospects, it's quite certain that we
would've been made whip-men too, like this one, only he had the luck
not to have anyone make a complaint about him, as you really don't get
many complaints like that. Only that's all finished now, Mr. K., our careers
are at an end, we're going to have to do work now that's far inferior
to police work and besides all this we're going to get this terrible, painful
beating." "Can the cane really cause so much pain, then?" asked K., testing
the cane that the whip-man swang in front of him. "We're going to
have to strip off totally naked," said Willem. "Oh, I see," said K., looking
straight at the whip-man, his skin was burned brown like a sailor's, and
his face showed health and vigorous. "Is there then no possibility of sparing
these two their beating?" he asked him. "No," said the whip-man,
shaking his head with a laugh. "Get undressed!" he ordered the policemen.
And to K. he said, "You shouldn't believe everything they tell you,
it's the fear of being beaten, it's already made them a bit weak in the
head. This one here, for instance," he pointed at Willem, "all that he told
you about his career prospects, it's just ridiculous. Look at him, look how
fat he is - the first strokes of the cane will just get lost in all that fat. Do
you know what it is that's made him so fat? He's in the habit of, everyone
that gets arrested by him, he eats their breakfast. Didn't he eat up your
breakfast? Yeah, I thought as much. But a man with a belly like that can't
63

be made into a whip-man and never will be, that is quite out of the question."
"There are whip-men like that," Willem insisted, who had just released
the belt of this trousers. "No," said the whip-man, striking him
such a blow with the cane on his neck that it made him wince, "you
shouldn't be listening to this, just get undressed." "I would make it well
worth your while if you would let them go," said K., and without looking
at the whip-man again - as such matters are best carried on with both
pairs of eyes turned down - he pulled out his wallet. "And then you'd try
and put in a complaint against me, too," said the whip-man, "and get me
flogged. No, no!" "Now, do be reasonable," said K., "if I had wanted to
get these two punished I would not now be trying to buy their freedom,
would I. I could simply close the door here behind me, go home and see
or hear nothing more of it. But that's not what I'm doing, it really is of
much more importance to me to let them go free; if I had realised they
would be punished, or even that they might be punished, I would never
have named them in the first place as they are not the ones I hold responsible.
It's the organisation that's to blame, the high officials are the
ones to blame." "That's how it is!" shouted the policemen, who then immediately
received another blow on their backs, which were by now exposed.
"If you had a senior judge here beneath your stick," said K., pressing
down the cane as he spoke to stop it being raised once more, "I really
would do nothing to stop you, on the contrary, I would even pay you
money to give you all the more strength." "Yeah, that's all very plausible,
what you're saying there," said the whip-man , "only I'm not the sort of
person you can bribe. It's my job to flog people, so I flog them." Franz,
the policeman, had been fairly quiet so far, probably in expectation of a
good result from K.'s intervention, but now he stepped forward to the
door wearing just his trousers, kneeled down hanging on to K.'s arm and
whispered, "Even if you can't get mercy shown for both of us, at least try
and get me set free. Willem is older than me, he's less sensitive than me
in every way, he even got a light beating a couple of years ago, but my
record's still clean, I only did things the way I did because Willem led me
on to it, he's been my teacher both for good and bad. Down in front of
the bank my poor bride is waiting for me at the entrance, I'm so ashamed
of myself, it's pitiful." His face was flowing over with tears, and he
wiped it dry on K.'s coat. "I'm not going to wait any longer," said the
whip-man, taking hold of the cane in both hands and laying in to Franz
while Willem cowered back in a corner and looked on secretly, not even
daring to turn his head. Then, the sudden scream that shot out from
Franz was long and irrevocable, it seemed to come not from a human
64

being but from an instrument that was being tortured, the whole corridor
rang with it, it must have been heard by everyone in the building.
"Don't shout like that!", called out K., unable to prevent himself, and, as
he looked anxiously in the direction from which the servitor would
come, he gave Franz a shove, not hard, but hard enough for him to fall
down unconscious, clawing at the ground with his hands by reflex; he
still did not avoid being hit; the rod still found him on the floor; the tip of
the rod swang regularly up and down while he rolled to and fro under
its blows. And now one of the servitors appeared in the distance, with
another a few steps behind him. K. had quickly thrown the door shut,
gone over to one of the windows overlooking the yard and opened it.
The screams had completely stopped. So that the servitor wouldn't come
in, he called out, "It's only me!" "Good evening, chief clerk," somebody
called back. "Is there anything wrong?" "No, no," answered K., "it's only a
dog yelping in the yard." There was no sound from the servitors so he
added, "You can go back to what you were doing." He did not want to
become involved with a conversation with them, and so he leant out of
the window. A little while later, when he looked out in the corridor, they
had already gone. Now, K. remained at the window, he did not dare go
back into the junk room, and he did not want to go home either. The
yard he looked down into was small and rectangular, all around it were
offices, all the windows were now dark and only those at the very top
caught a reflection of the moon. K tried hard to see into the darkness of
one corner of the yard, where a few handcarts had been left behind one
another. He felt anguish at not having been able to prevent the flogging,
but that was not his fault, if Franz had not screamed like that - clearly it
must have caused a great deal of pain but it's important to maintain control
of oneself at important moments - if Franz had not screamed then it
was at least highly probable that K. would have been able to dissuade
the whip-man. If all the junior officers were contemptible why would the
whip-man, whose position was the most inhumane of all, be any exception,
and K. had noticed very clearly how his eyes had lit up when he
saw the banknotes, he had obviously only seemed serious about the flogging
to raise the level of the bribe a little. And K. had not been ungenerous,
he really had wanted to get the policemen freed; if he really had
now begun to do something against the degeneracy of the court then it
was a matter of course that he would have to do something here as well.
But of course, it became impossible for him to do anything as soon as
Franz started screaming. K. could not possibly have let the junior bank
staff, and perhaps even all sorts of other people, come along and catch
65

him by surprise as he haggled with those people in the junk room.
Nobody could really expect that sort of sacrifice of him. If that had been
his intention then it would almost have been easier, K. would have taken
his own clothes off and offered himself to the whip-man in the
policemen's place. The whip-man would certainly not have accepted this
substitution anyway, as in that way he would have seriously violated his
duty without gaining any benefit. He would most likely have violated
his duty twice over, as court employees were probably under orders not
to cause any harm to K. while he was facing charges, although there may
have been special conditions in force here. However things stood, K. was
able to do no more than throw the door shut, even though that would
still do nothing to remove all the dangers he faced. It was regrettable that
he had given Franz a shove, and it could only be excused by the heat of
the moment.
In the distance, he heard the steps of the servitors; he did not want
them to be too aware of his presence, so he closed the window and
walked towards the main staircase. At the door of the junk room he
stopped and listened for a little while. All was silent. The two policemen
were entirely at the whip-man's mercy; he could have beaten them to
death. K. reached his hand out for the door handle but drew it suddenly
back. He was no longer in any position to help anyone, and the servitors
would soon be back; he did, though, promise himself that he would raise
the matter again with somebody and see that, as far as it was in his
power, those who really were guilty, the high officials whom nobody
had so far dared point out to him, received their due punishment. As he
went down the main stairway at the front of the bank, he looked carefully
round at everyone who was passing, but there was no girl to be
seen who might have been waiting for somebody, not even within some
distance from the bank. Franz's claim that his bride was waiting for him
was thus shown to be a lie, albeit one that was forgivable and intended
only to elicit more sympathy.
The policemen were still on K.'s mind all through the following day;
he was unable to concentrate on his work and had to stay in his office a
little longer than the previous day so that he could finish it. On the way
home, as he passed by the junk room again, he opened its door as if that
had been his habit. Instead of the darkness he expected, he saw
everything unchanged from the previous evening, and did not know
how he should respond. Everything was exactly the same as he had seen
it when he had opened the door the previous evening. The forms and
bottles of ink just inside the doorway, the whip-man with his cane, the
66

two policemen, still undressed, the candle on the shelf, and the two policemen
began to wail and call out "Mr. K.!" K. slammed the door immediately
shut, and even thumped on it with his fists as if that would shut
it all the firmer. Almost in tears, he ran to the servitors working quietly
at the copying machine. "Go and get that junk room cleared out!" he
shouted, and, in amazement, they stopped what they were doing. "It
should have been done long ago, we're sinking in dirt!" They would be
able to do the job the next day, K. nodded, it was too late in the evening
to make them do it there and then as he had originally intended. He sat
down briefly in order to keep them near him for a little longer, looked
through a few of the copies to give the impression that he was checking
them and then, as he saw that they would not dare to leave at the same
time as himself, went home tired and with his mind numb.
67