intently strove to pierce the darkness of one corner of the courtyard, where several handbarrows
were jumbled close together. He was deeply disappointed that he had not been
able to prevent the whipping, but it was not his fault that he had not succeeded; if Franz
had not shrieked — it must have been very painful certainly, but in a crisis one must control
oneself — if he had not shrieked, then K., in all probability at least, would have found some
other means of persuading the Whipper. If the whole lower grade of this organization were
scoundrels, why should the Whipper, who had the most inhuman office of all, turn out to
be an exception? Besides, K. had clearly seen his eyes glittering at the sight of the
banknote, obviously he had set about his job in earnest simply to raise his price a little
higher. And K. would not have been stingy, he was really very anxious to get the warders
off; since he had set himself to fight the whole corrupt administration of this Court, it was
obviously his duty to intervene on this occasion. But at the moment when Franz began to
shriek, any intervention became impossible. K. could not afford to let the dispatch clerks
and possibly all sorts of other people arrive and surprise him in a scene with these
creatures in the lumber-room. No one could really demand such a sacrifice from him. If a
sacrifice had been needed, it would almost have been simpler to take off his own clothes
and offer himself to the Whipper as a substitute for the warders. * In any case the
Whipper certainly would not have accepted such a substitution, since without gaining any
advantage he would have been involved in a grave dereliction of duty, for as long as this
trial continued, K. must surely be immune from molestation by the servants of the Court.
Though of course ordinary standards might not apply here either. At all events, he could
have done nothing but slam the door, though even that action had not shut out all danger. It
was a pity that he had given Franz a push at the last moment, the state of agitation he was in was his only excuse.
He heard the steps of the clerks in the distance; so as not to attract their attention he
shut the window and began to walk away in the direction of the main staircase. At the door
of the lumber-room he stopped for a little and listened. All was as silent as the grave. The
man might have beaten the warders till they had given up the ghost, they were entirely
delivered into his power. K.’s hand was already stretched out to grasp the door-handle
when he withdrew it again. They were past help by this time, and the clerks might appear
at any moment; but he made a vow not to hush up the incident and to deal trenchantly, so
far as lay in his power, with the real culprits, the high officials, none of whom had yet
dared show his face. As he descended the outside steps of the Bank he carefully observed
all the passers-by, but even in the surrounding streets he could perceive no sign of a girl
waiting for anybody. So Franz’s tale of a sweetheart waiting for him was simply a lie,
venial enough, designed merely to procure more sympathy for him.
All the next day K. could not get the warders out of his head; he was absent-minded and to
catch up on his work had to stay in his office even later than the day before. As lie passed
the lumber-room again on his way out he could not resist opening the door. And what
confronted him, instead of the darkness he had expected, bewildered him completely.
Everything was still the same, exactly as he had found it on opening the door the previous
evening. The files of old papers and the ink bottles were still tumbled behind the threshold,
the Whipper with his rod and the warders with all their clothes on were still standing there,
the candle was burning on the shelf, and the warders immediately began to wail and cry