pass over like all the others.” “Maybe,” said the lawyer in a faint voice, “but it’s worse than
it’s ever been before. I find it difficult to breathe, can’t sleep at all, and am losing strength
daily.” “I see,” said K.’s uncle, pressing his panama hat firmly against his knee with his
huge hand. “That’s bad news. But are you being properly looked after? And it’s so gloomy in here, so dark. It’s a long time since I was here last, but it looked more cheerful then. And
this little maid of yours doesn’t seem to be very bright, or else she’s concealing the fact.”
The girl was still standing near the door with her candle; as far as one could make out from
the vague flicker of her eyes, she seemed to be looking at K. rather than at his uncle, even
while the latter was speaking about her. K. was leaning against a chair which he had
pushed near her. “When a man is as ill as I am,” said the lawyer, “he must have quiet. I
don’t find it gloomy.” After a slight pause he added: “And Leni looks after me well, she’s a
good girl.” * But this could not convince K.’s uncle, who was visibly prejudiced against
the nurse, and though he made no reply to the sick man he followed her with a stern eye as
she went over to the bed, set down the candle on the bedside table, bent over her patient,
and whispered to him while she rearranged the pillows. K.’s uncle, almost forgetting that
he was in a sick-room, jumped to his feet and prowled up and down behind the girl; K.
would not have been surprised if he had seized her by the skirts and dragged her away
from the bed. K. himself looked on with detachment, the illness of the lawyer was not
entirely unwelcome to him, he had not been able to oppose his uncle’s growing ardor for
his cause, and he thankfully accepted the situation, which had deflected that ardor without
any connivance from him. Then his uncle, perhaps only with the intention of offending the
nurse, cried out: “Fräulein, please be so good as to leave us alone for a while; I want to
consult my friend on some personal business.” The girl, who was still bending down over
the sick man smoothing the sheet beside the wall, merely turned her head and said quite
calmly, in striking contrast to the furious stuttering and frothing of K.’s uncle: “You see
that my master is ill; he cannot be consulted about business.” She had probably reiterated
the phrase from sheer indolence; all the same it could have been construed as mockery
even by an unprejudiced observer, and K.’s uncle naturally flared up as if he had been
stung. “You damned –” he spluttered, but he was so furious as to be hardly intelligible. K.
started up in alarm, though he had expected some such outburst, and rushed over to his
uncle with the firm intention of clapping both hands over his mouth and so silencing him.
Fortunately the patient raised himself up in bed behind the girl. K.’s uncle made a wry
grimace as if he were swallowing some nauseous draught and he said in a smoother voice:
“I assure you we aren’t altogether out of our senses; if what I ask were impossible I should
not ask it. Please go away now.” The girl straightened herself be- side the bed, turning full
toward K.’s uncle, but with one hand, at least so K. surmised, she was patting the lawyer’s
hand. “You can discuss anything before Leni,” said the lawyer in a voice of sheer entreaty.
“This does not concern myself,” said K.’s uncle, “it is not my secret.” And he turned away
as if washing his hands of the matter, although willing to give the lawyer a moment for
reconsideration. “Then whom does it concern ?” asked the lawyer in an exhausted voice,
lying down again. “My nephew,” said K.’s uncle, “I have brought him here with me.” And
he presented his nephew: Joseph K., Chief Clerk. “Oh,” said the sick man with much more
animation, stretching out his hand to K., “forgive me, I didn’t notice you. Go now, Leni,”