candle as if he had been unaware of his condition. “Is Leni your mistress?” inquired K.
curtly. lie was straddling his legs slightly, his hands, in which he was holding his hat,
clasped behind his back. The mere possession of a thick greatcoat gave him a feeling of
superiority over the meager little fellow. “Oh, God,” said the other, raising one hand before his face in horrified repudiation, “no, no, what are you thinking of?” “You look an honest
man,” said K., smiling, “but all the same — come along.” He waved him on with his hat,
urging him to go first. “What’s your name?” K. asked as they were proceeding. “Block, a
tradesman,” said the little man, turning round to introduce himself, but K. would not suffer
him to remain standing. “Is that your real name?” went on K. “Of course,” came the
answer, “why should you doubt it?” “I thought you might have some reason for concealing
your name,” said K. He was feeling at ease now, at ease as one is when speaking to an
inferior in some foreign country, keeping one’s own affairs to oneself and discussing with
equanimity the other man’s interests, which gain consequence for the attention one bestows
on them yet can be dismissed at will. As they came to the lawyer’s study K. halted, opened
the door, and called to the fellow, who was meekly advancing along the lobby: “Not so
fast, show a light here.” K. fancied that Leni might have hidden herself in the study; he
made the tradesman shine the candle into all the corners, but the room was empty. In front
of the Judge’s portrait K. caught the fellow from behind by the braces and pulled him back.
“Do you know who that is?” he asked, pointing upward at the picture. The man raised the
candle, blinked up at the picture, and said : “It’s a Judge.” “A high Judge?” asked K.,
stationing himself beside the other to observe what impression the portrait made on him.
The man gazed up with reverence. “It is a high Judge,” he said. “You haven’t much
insight,” said K., “that’s the lowest of the low among the examining Judges.” “Now, I
remember,” said the man, letting the candle sink. “I’ve been told that before.” “But of
course,” cried K., “how could I forget, of course you must have heard it before.” “But why,
why must I?” asked the man, moving toward the door, for K. was propelling him from
behind. When they were out in the lobby, K. said : “I suppose you know where Leni’s
hiding?” “Hiding?” said he. “No, she should be in the kitchen making soup for the lawyer.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that at first?” asked K. “I was going to take you there, but you
called me back,” answered the man, as if bewildered by these contradictory demands.
“You fancy you’re being very sly,” said K., “lead the way then!” K. bad never yet been in
the kitchen, and it was surprisingly large and well furnished. The cooking-stove alone was
three times the size of an ordinary stove; the rest of the fittings could not be seen in detail
since the sole light came from a small lamp hanging near the door. Leni was standing by
the stove in a white apron, as usual, emptying eggs into a pan that stood over an alcohol
flame. “Good evening, Joseph,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Good evening,” said
K., waving the tradesman to a chair some distance away, on which the man obediently sat
down. Then K. went quite close up behind Leni, leaned over her shoulder, and asked:
“Who’s this man F” Leni put her disengaged arm round K., stirring the soup with the other,
and pulled him forward. “He’s a miserable creature,” she said, “a poor tradesman called
Block. Just look at him.” They both glanced round. The tradesman was sitting in the chair
K. had indicated for him; having blown out the candle, which was no longer needed, he
was snuffing the wick with his fingers. “You were in your shift,” said K., turning Leni’s
head forcibly to the stove. She made no answer. “Is he your lover?” asked K. She reached