interest of all my boarders that I try to keep my house respectable, and that is all I’m
anxious about in this case.” “Respectable!” cried K., through the chink of the door; “if you
want to keep your house respectable you’ll have to begin by giving me notice.” Then he
shut the door and paid no attention to the faint knocking that ensued.
On the other hand, as he felt no desire to sleep, he resolved to stay awake and take the
opportunity of noting at what hour Fräulein Bürstner returned. Perhaps when she did so it
might still be possible, unsuitable though the hour was, to have a few words with her. As
he lounged by the window and shut his tired eyes, he actually considered for a moment
paying Frau Grubach out by persuading Fräulein Bürstner to give notice along with him.
Yet he saw at once that this was an excessive reaction, and he began to suspect himself of
wishing to change his lodgings because of that, morning’s events. Nothing could be more senseless, not to say pointless and contemptible. *
When he became weary of gazing out into the empty street he lay down on the sofa,
after having slightly opened the door to the entrance hail, so that from where he was lying
he might see at once anyone who came in. Until about eleven he lay quietly on the sofa
smoking a cigar. But then he could not endure lying there any longer and took a step or
two into the entrance hail, as if that would make Fräulein Bürstner come all the sooner. He
felt no special desire to see her, he could not even remember exactly how she looked, but
he wanted to talk to her now, and he was exasperated that her being so late should further
disturb and derange the end of such a day. She was to blame, too, for the fact that he had
not eaten any supper and that he had put off the visit to Elsa he had proposed making that
evening. He could remedy both omissions still, it was true, by going straight to the wine
restaurant where Elsa worked. He would do that later, he decided, after his talk with
Fräulein Bürstner.
It was a little after half past eleven when he heard somebody on the stairs. Absorbed
in his thoughts, he had been marching up and down the entrance hall for some time as if it
were his own room, and now he fled behind his bedroom door. It was Fräulein Bürstner
coming in. As she locked the front door she shivered and drew her silk shawl round her
slim shoulders. In a minute she would be going into her room, where K. certainly could not
intrude at such an hour; he would therefore have to speak to her now, but unfortunately he
had forgotten to switch on the light in his room, so that if he were to emerge out of the
darkness it would look as if he were waylaying her and at least must be somewhat
alarming. No time was to be lost, so in his confusion he whispered through the chink of the
door: “Fräulein Bürstner.” It sounded like a prayer, not like a summons. “Is anyone there?”
asked Fräulein Bürstner, looking round with wide-open eyes. “It’s I,” said K., stepping
forward. “Oh, Herr K. !” said Fräulein Bürstner, smiling. “Good evening,” and she held out
her hand to him. “I should like to have a word or two with you, will you allow me to do so
now?” “Now?” asked Fräulein Bürstner. “Must it be now? A little unusual, isn’t it?” “I’ve
been waiting for you ever since nine.” “Well, I was at the theater, you know, I had no idea
you were waiting.” “What I want to talk to you about didn’t happen till today.” “Oh, well, I
have no serious objection, except that I am so tired I can scarcely stand on my feet. So
come for a few minutes to my room. We can’t possibly talk here, we should waken
everybody, and I should dislike that for our own sakes even more than for theirs. Wait here