Chapter 1 - Page 2

evening. It was Mrs. Grubach's living
room, over-filled with furniture, tablecloths, porcelain and
photographs. Perhaps there was a little more space in there than usual
today, but if so it was not immediately obvious, especially as the main
difference was the presence of a man sitting by the open window with a
book from which he now looked up. "You should have stayed in your room!
Didn't Franz tell you?" "And what is it you want, then?" said K.,
looking back and forth between this new acquaintance and the one named
Franz, who had remained in the doorway. Through the open window he
noticed the old woman again, who had come close to the window opposite
so that she could continue to see everything. She was showing an
inquisitiveness that really made it seem like she was going senile. "I
want to see Mrs. Grubach ... ," said K., making a movement as if tearing
himself away from the two men - even though they were standing well away
from him - and wanted to go. "No," said the man at the window, who
threw his book down on a coffee table and stood up. "You can't go away
when you're under arrest." "That's how it seems," said K. "And why am
I under arrest?" he then asked. "That's something we're not allowed to
tell you. Go into your room and wait there. Proceedings are underway
and you'll learn about everything all in good time. It's not really
part of my job to be friendly towards you like this, but I hope no-one,
apart from Franz, will hear about it, and he's been more friendly
towards you than he should have been, under the rules, himself. If you
carry on having as much good luck as you have been with your arresting
officers then you can reckon on things going well with you." K. wanted
to sit down, but then he saw that, apart from the chair by the window,
there was nowhere anywhere in the room where he could sit. "You'll get
the chance to see for yourself how true all this is," said Franz and
both men then walked up to K. They were significantly bigger than him,
especially the second man, who frequently slapped him on the shoulder.
The two of them felt K.'s nightshirt, and said he would now have to wear
one that was of much lower quality, but that they would keep the
nightshirt along with his other underclothes and return them to him if
his case turned out well. "It's better for you if you give us the
things than if you leave them in the storeroom," they said. "Things
have a tendency to go missing in the storeroom, and after a certain
amount of time they sell things off, whether the case involved has come
to an end or not. And cases like this can last a long time, especially
the ones that have been coming up lately. They'd