obviously seen the second door of the studio opening and had made a detour at full speed,
in order to get in. “I can’t escort you any farther,” cried the painter laughingly, as the girls
surrounded him. “Till our next meeting. And don’t take too long to think it over K. did
not even look back. When he reached the street he hailed the first cab that came along. He
must get rid of the usher, whose gold button offended his eyes, even though, likely enough,
they escaped everyone else’s attention. The usher, zealously dutiful, got up beside the
coachman on the box, but K. made him get down again. Midday was long past when K.
reached the Bank. He would have liked to leave the pictures in the cab, but was afraid that
some day he might be required to recall himself to the painter by their means. So he had
them carried into his office and locked them in the bottom drawer of his desk, to save them
for the next few days at least from the eyes of the Assistant Manager. Chapter 8
Block, the Tradesman / Dismissal of the Lawyer
AT LONG last K. had made up his mind to take his case out of the lawyer’s hands. He
could not quite rid himself of doubts about the wisdom of this step, but his conviction of its
necessity prevailed. To screw himself up to the decision cost him a lot of energy, on the
day when he resolved to visit the lawyer his work lagged behind, he had to stay very late in
the office, and so he did not reach the lawyer’s door until well past ten o’clock. Before
actually ringing the bell he thought it over once again; it might be better to dismiss the
lawyer by telephone or by letter, a personal interview was bound to prove painful. Still, he
did not want to lose the advantage of a personal interview, any other mode of dismissal
would be accepted in silence or with a few formal words of acknowledgment, and unless
he were to extract information from Leni he would never learn how the lawyer had reacted
to the dismissal and what consequences for himself were likely to ensue according to the
lawyer’s opinion, which was not entirely negligible. Face to face with the lawyer, one
could spring the dismissal on him as a surprise, and however guarded the man might be, K.
would be easily able to learn from his demeanor all that he wanted to know. It was even
possible that he might perceive the wisdom of leaving the case in the lawyer’s hands after
all and might withdraw his ultimatum.
The first ring at the lawyer’s door produced, as usual, no result. “Leni could be a little
quicker,” thought K. But it was enough to be thankful for that no third party had come
nosing in, as usually happened, the man in the dressing-gown, for instance, or some other
interfering creature. K. glanced at the farther door as he pressed the button a second time,
but on this occasion both doors remained firmly shut. At last a pair of eyes appeared at the
peephole in the lawyer’s door, but they were not Leni’s eyes. Someone shot back the bolt,
but still blocked the way as a preliminary measure, calling back into the house: “It’s him,”
and only then flinging the door open. K. had been pushing against the door, for he could
already hear a key being hastily turned in the neighboring lock, and when it suddenly
opened he was literally precipitated into the hail and caught a glimpse of Leni, for whom
the warning cry must have been intended, rushing down the lobby in her shift. He peered
after her for a moment and then turned to see who had opened the door. It was a dried-up
little man with a long beard, he was holding a candle in one hand. “Are you employed
here?” asked K. “No,” said the man, “I don’t belong to the house, I’m only the lawyer’s
client, i’ve come here on business.” “In your shirt-sleeves?” asked K., indicating the man’s
inadequate attire. “Oh, excuse me,” said the man, peering at himself by the light of the