reaching, however, to the roof, through which a little light penetrated and through which
one could see a few officials as well, some writing at their desks, and some standing close
to the rails peering through the interstices at the people in the lobby. There were only a few
people in the lobby, probably because it was Sunday. They made a very modest showing.
At almost regular intervals they were sitting singly along a row of wooden benches fixed
to either side of the passage. All of them were carelessly dressed, though to judge from the
expression of their faces, their bearing, the cut of their beards, and many almost
imperceptible little details, they obviously belonged to the upper classes. As there was no
hat-rack in the passage, they had placed their hats under the benches, in this probably
following each other’s example. When those who were sitting nearest the door caught sight
of K. and the usher, they rose politely, followed in turn by their neighbors, who also
seemed to think it necessary to rise, so that everyone stood as the two men passed. They
did not stand quite erect, their backs remained bowed, their knees bent, they stood like
street beggars. K. waited for the usher, who kept slightly behind him, and said: “How
humbled they must be!” “Yes,” said the usher, “these are the accused men, all of them are
defendants.” “Indeed !” said K. “Then they’re colleagues of mine.” And he turned to the
nearest, a tall, slender, almost gray-haired man. “What are you waiting here for?” asked K. courteously. But this unexpected question confused the man, which was the more deeply
embarrassing as he was obviously a man of the world who would have known how to
comport himself anywhere else and would not lightly have renounced his natural
superiority. Yet in this place he did not know even how to reply to a simple question and
gazed at the others as if it were their duty to help him, as if no one could expect him to
answer should help not be forthcoming. Then the usher stepped up and said, to reassure the
man and encourage him: “This gentleman merely asked what you are waiting for. Come,
give him an answer.” The familiar voice of the usher had its effect: “I’m waiting-” the man
started to say, but could get out no more. He had obviously begun by intending to make an
exact reply to the question, but did not know how to go on. Some of the other clients had
drifted up and now clustered round, and the usher said to them: “Off with you, keep the
passage clear.” They drew back a little, but not to their former places. Meanwhile the man
had collected himself and actually replied with a faint smile: “A month ago I handed in
several affidavits concerning my case and I am waiting for the result.” “You seem to put
yourself to a great deal of trouble,” said K. “Yes,” said the man, “for it is my case.”
“Everyone doesn’t think as you do,” said K. “For example, I am under arrest too, but as
sure as I stand here I have neither put in any affidavit nor attempted anything whatever of
the kind. Do you consider such things necessary, then?” “I can’t exactly say,” replied the
man, once more deprived of all assurance; he evidently thought that K. was making fun of
him, and appeared to be on the point of repeating his first answer all over again for fear of
making a new mistake, but under K.’s impatient eye he merely said: “Anyhow, I have
handed in my affidavits.” “Perhaps you don’t believe that I am under arrest?” asked K.
“Oh, yes, certainly,” said the man, stepping somewhat aside, but there was no belief in his
answer, merely apprehension. “So you don’t really believe me?” asked K. and, provoked
without knowing it by the man’s humility, he seized him by the arm as if to compel him to
believe. He had no wish to hurt him, and besides had grasped him quite loosely, yet the
man cried out as if K. had gripped him with glowing pincers instead of with two fingers.