he were being arrested in earnest, and he sprang recklessly down from the platform. Now
he stood eye to eye with the crowd. Had he been mistaken in these people? Had he
overestimated the effectiveness of his speech? Had they been disguising their real opinions
while he spoke, and now that he had come to the conclusion of his speech were they weary at last of pretense? What faces these were around him! Their little black eyes darted
furtively from side to side, their beards were stiff and brittle, and to take hold of them
would be like clutching bunches of claws rather than beards. But under the beards — and
this was K.’s real discovery — badges of various sizes and colors gleamed on their coatcollars.
They all wore these badges, so far as he could see. They were all colleagues, these
ostensible parties of the Right and the Left, and as he turned round suddenly he saw the
same badges on the coat-collar of the Examining Magistrate, who was sitting quietly
watching the scene with his hands on his knees. “So !” cried K., flinging his arms in the
air, his sudden enlightenment had to break out, “every man jack of you is an official, I see,
you are yourselves the corrupt agents of whom I have been speaking, you’ve all come
rushing here to listen and nose out what you can about me, making a pretense of party
divisions, and half of you applauded merely to lead me on, you wanted some practice in
fooling an innocent man. Well, much good I hope it’s done you, for either you have merely
gathered some amusement from the fact that I expected you to defend the innocent, or else –
– keep off or I’ll strike you,” cried K. to a trembling old man who had pushed quite close to
him — “or else you have really learned a thing or two. And I wish you joy of your trade.”
He hastily seized his hat, which lay near the edge of the table, and amid universal silence,
the silence of complete stupefaction, if nothing else, pushed his way to the door. But the
Examining Magistrate seemed to have been still quicker than K., for he was waiting at the
door. “A moment,” he said. K. paused but kept his eyes on the door, not on the Examining
Magistrate; his hand was already on the latch. “I merely wanted to point out,” said the
Examining Magistrate, “that today — you may not yet have become aware of the fact —
today you have flung away with your own hand all the advantages which an interrogation
invariably confers on an accused man.” K. laughed, still looking at the door. “You
scoundrels, I’ll spare you future interrogations,” he shouted, opened the door, and hurried
down the stairs. Behind him rose the buzz of animated discussion, the audience had
apparently come to life again and were analyzing the situation like expert students. Chapter 3
In the Empty Courtroom / The Student / The Offices
DURING the next week K. waited day after day for a new summons, he would not believe
that his refusal to be interrogated had been taken literally, and when no appointment was
made by Saturday evening, he assumed that he was tacitly expected to report himself again
at the same address and at the same time. So he betook himself there on Sunday morning,
and this time went straight up through the passages and stairways; a few people who
remembered him greeted him from their doors, but he no longer needed to inquire of
anybody and soon came to the right door. It opened at once to his knock, and without even
turning his head to look at the woman, who remained standing beside the door, he made
straight for the adjoining room. “There’s no sitting today,” said the woman. “Why is there
no sitting?” he asked; he could not believe it. But the woman convinced him by herself
opening the door of the next room. It was really empty and in its emptiness looked even
more sordid than on the previous Sunday. On the table, which still stood on the platform as