situation like that cropped up in the Bank. Well, it’s past history now and I didn’t really
intend to speak about it again, only I wanted to hear your judgment, the judgment of a
sensible woman, and I am very glad we are in agreement. But now you must give me your
hand on it, an agreement such as this must be confirmed with a handshake.”
“Will she take my hand? The Inspector wouldn’t do it,” he thought, gazing at the
woman with a different, a critical eye. She stood up because he had stood up, she was a
little embarrassed, for she had not understood all that he had said. And because of her
embarrassment she said something which she had not intended to say and which was,
moreover, rather out of place. “Don’t take it so much to heart, Herr K.,” she said with tears
in her voice, forgetting, naturally, to shake his hand. “I had no idea that I was taking it to
heart,” said K., suddenly tired and seeing how little it mattered whether she agreed with
him or not.
At the door he asked: “Is Fräulein Bürstner in?” “No,” replied Frau Grubach, and in giving this dry piece of information she smiled with honest if belated sympathy. “She’s at
the theater. Do you want to ask her something? Shall I give her a message?” “Oh,I just
wanted a word or two with her.” “I’m afraid I don’t know when she will be back; when she
goes to the theater she’s usually late.” “It’s of no consequence,” said K., turning to the door,
his head sunk on his breast. “I only wanted to apologize to her for having borrowed her
room today.” “That’s quite unnecessary, Herr K., you are too scrupulous, Fräulein Bürstner
knows nothing about it, she hasn’t been back since early this morning, everything has been
put back in its place again too, see for yourself.” And she opened the door of Fräulein
Bürstner’s room. “Thanks, I believe you,” said K., but went in through the open door all the
same. The moon shone softly into the dark chamber. As far as one could see everything
was really in its proper place, and the blouse was no longer dangling from the latch of the
window. The pillows on the bed looked strangely high, they were lying partly in the
moonlight. “She often comes home late,” said K., looking at Frau Grubach as if she were
to blame for it. “Young people are like that,” said Frau Grubach apologetically. “Certainly,
certainly,” said K., “but it can go too far.” “That it can,” said Frau Grubach, “how right you
are, Herr K.! In this case especially, perhaps. I have no wish to speak ill of Fräulein
Bürstner, she is a dear, good girl, kind, decent, punctual, industrious, I admire all these
qualities in her, but one thing is undeniable, she should have more pride, should keep
herself more to herself. This very month I have met her twice already on outlying streets,
and each time with a different gentleman. It worries me, and as sure as I stand here, Herr
K., I haven’t told anybody but you, but I’m afraid there’s no help for it, I shall have to talk
to Fräulein Bürstner herself about it. Besides, it isn’t the only thing that has made me
suspicious of her.” “You’re quite on the wrong track,” said K., with a sudden fury which he
was scarcely able to hide, “and you have obviously misunderstood my remark about
Fräulein Bürstner, it wasn’t meant in that way. In fact I frankly warn you against saying
anything to her; you’re quite mistaken, I know Fräulein Bürstner very well, there isn’t a
word of truth in what you say. But perhaps I’m going too far myself. I don’t want to
interfere, you can say what you like to her. Good night.” “Good night, Herr K.,” said Frau
Grubach imploringly, hurrying after him to his door, which he had already opened, “I don’t
really mean to say anything to her yet, of course I’ll wait to see what happens before I do
anything, you’re the only one i’ve spoken to, in confidence. After all it must be to the