till I have turned on the light in my room, and then you can switch off the light here.” K.
did so, but waited until Fräulein Bürstner from her room again invited him, in a whisper, to
come in. Take a seat,” she said, pointing to the sofa; she herself stood leaning against the
foot of the bed in spite of her confessed weariness; she did not even take off her small but
lavishly flower-bedecked hat. “Well, what is it? I am really curious.” She crossed her
ankles. “Perhaps you will say,” began K., “that there was no urgent need to speak about it
now, but–” “I never listen to preambles,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “That makes it easier for
me,” said K. “This morning your room was thrown into some slight confusion and the fault
was mine in a certain sense, it was done by strange people against my will, and yet as I have said the fault was mine; I want to beg your pardon for this.” “My room?” asked
Fräulein Bürstner, and she cast a critical eye round the room instead of looking at him.
“That is so,” said K., and now they gazed into each other’s eyes for the first time. “The
actual manner in which it happened isn’t worth mentioning.” “But surely that is the really
interesting part,” said Fräulein Bürstner. “No,” said K. “Well,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “I
don’t want to pry into secrets; if you insist that it is uninteresting, I shall not argue the
point. You have begged my pardon and I herewith freely grant it, particularly as I can find
no trace of disturbance.” With her open palms pressed to her hips, she made a tour of the
room. Beside the mat where the photographs were stuck she stopped. “Look here,” she
cried, “my photographs are all mixed up! That is really odious. So someone has actually
been in my room who had no right to come in.” K. nodded and silently cursed the clerk
Kaminer, who could never control his stupid, meaningless fidgeting. “It is curious,” said
Fräulein Bürstner, “that I should be compelled now to forbid you to do something which
you ought to forbid yourself to do, that is to enter my room in my absence.” “But I have
explained to you, Fräulein,” said K., going over to the photographs, “that it was not I who
interfered with these photographs; still, as you won’t believe me, I have to confess that the
Court of Inquiry brought three Bank clerks here, one of whom, and I shall have him
dismissed at the first opportunity, must have meddled with your photographs.” In answer
to the Fräulein’s inquiring look he added: “Yes, there was a Court of Inquiry here today.”
“On your account?” asked the Fräulein. “Yes,” replied K. “No !” cried the girl, laughing.
“Yes, it was,” said K. “Why, do you think I must be innocent ?” “Well, innocent,” said
Fräulein Bürstner, “I don’t want to commit myself, at a moment’s notice, to a verdict with
so many possible implications, besides, I don’t really know you; all the same, it must be a
serious crime that would bring a Court of Inquiry down on a man. Yet as you are still at
large — at least I gather from the look of you that you haven’t just escaped from prison —
you couldn’t really have committed a serious crime.” “Yes,” said K., “but the Court of
Inquiry might have discovered, not that I was innocent, but that I was not so guilty as they
had assumed.” “Certainly, that is possible,” said Fräulein Bürstner, very much on the alert.
“You see,” said K. “you haven’t much experience in legal matters.” “No, I haven’t,” said
Fräulein Bürstner, “and I have often regretted it, for I would like to know everything there
is to know, and law courts interest me particularly. A court of law has a curious attraction,
hasn’t it? But I’ll soon remedy my ignorance in that respect, for next month I am joining
the clerical staff of a lawyer’s office.” “That’s excellent,” said K. “Then you’ll be able to
help me a little with my case.” “That may well be,” said Fräulein Bürstner, “why not? I like