discovered through personal experience; you must not confuse the two. In the code of the
Law, which admittedly I have not read, it is of course laid down on the one hand that the
innocent shall be acquitted, but it is not stated on the other hand that the Judges are open to
influence. Now, my experience is diametrically opposed to that. I have not met one case of
definite acquittal, and I have met many cases of influential intervention. It is possible, of
course, that in all the cases known to me there was none in which the accused was really
innocent. But is not that improbable? Among so many cases no single case of innocence?
Even as a child I used to listen carefully to my father when he spoke of cases he had heard
about; the Judges, too, who came to his studio were always telling stories about the Court,
in our circle it is in fact the sole topic of discussion; no sooner did I get the chance to
attend the Court myself than I took full advantage of it; I have listened to countless cases
in their most crucial stages, and followed them as far as they could be followed, and yet —
I must admit it — I have never encountered one case of definite acquittal.” “Not one case of
acquittal, then,” said K. as if he were speaking to himself and his hopes, “but that merely
confirms the opinion that I have already formed of this Court. It is a pointless institution
from any point of view. A single executioner could do all that is needed.” “You mustn’t
generalize,” said the painter in displeasure. “I have only quoted my own experience.”
“That’s quite enough,” said K. “Or have you ever heard of acquittals in earlier times?”
“Such acquittals,” replied the painter, “are said to have occurred. Only it is very difficult to
prove the fact. The final decisions of the Court are never recorded, even the Judges can’t
get hold of them, consequently we have only legendary accounts of ancient cases. These
legends certainly provide instances of acquittal; actually the majority of them are about
acquittals, they can be believed, but they cannot be proved. All the same, they shouldn’t be
entirely left out of account, they must have an element of truth in them, and besides they
are very beautiful. I myself have painted several pictures founded on such legends.” “Mere
legends cannot alter my opinion, said K., “and I fancy that one cannot appeal to such
legends before the Court?” The painter laughed. “No, one can’t do that,” he said. “Then
there’s no use talking about them,” said K., willing for the time being to accept the painter’s
opinions, even where they seemed improbable or contradicted other reports he had heard.
He had no time now to inquire into the truth of all the painter said, much less contradict it,
the utmost he could hope to do was to get the man to help him in some way, even should
the help prove inconclusive. Accordingly he said: “Let us leave definite acquittal out of
account, then; you mentioned two other possibilities as well.” “Ostensible acquittal and postponement. These are the only possibilities,” said the painter. “But won’t you take off
your jacket before we go on to speak of them? You look very hot.” “Yes,” said K., who
had been paying no attention to anything but the painter’s expositions, but now that he was
reminded of the heat found his forehead drenched in sweat. “It’s almost unbearable.” The
painter nodded as if he comprehended K.’s discomfort quite well. “Couldn’t we open the
window?” asked K. “No,” replied the painter. “It’s only a sheet of glass let into the roof, it
can’t be opened.” Now K. realized that he had been hoping all the time that either the
painter or he himself would suddenly go over to the window and fling it open. He was
prepared to gulp down even mouthfuls of fog if be could only get air. The feeling of being
completely cut off from the fresh air made his head swim. He brought the flat of his hand
down on the feather bed and said in a feeble voice: “That’s both uncomfortable and