Chapter 9 - Page 2

still
made him anxious. However, in this case it was almost impossible to
think of an acceptable excuse, his knowledge of Italian was not great
but still good enough; the deciding factor was that K. had earlier known
a little about art history and this had become widely known around the
bank in extremely exaggerated form, and that K. had been a member of the
Society for the Preservation of City Monuments, albeit only for business
reasons. It was said that this Italian was an art lover, so the choice
of K. to accompany him was a matter of course.

It was a very rainy and stormy morning when K., in a foul temper
at the thought of the day ahead of him, arrived early at seven o'clock
in the office so that he could at least do some work before his visitor
would prevent him. He had spent half the night studying a book of
Italian grammar so that he would be somewhat prepared and was very
tired; his desk was less attractive to him than the window where he had
spent far too much time sitting of late, but he resisted the temptation
and sat down to his work. Unfortunately, just then the servitor came in
and reported that the director had sent him to see whether the chief
clerk was already in his office; if he was, then would he please be so
kind as to come to his reception room as the gentleman from Italy was
already there. "I'll come straight away," said K. He put a small
dictionary in his pocket, took a guide to the city's tourist sites under
his arm that he had compiled for strangers, and went through the deputy
director's office into that of the director. He was glad he had come
into the office so early and was able to be of service immediately,
nobody could seriously have expected that of him. The deputy director's
office was, of course, still as empty as the middle of the night, the
servitor had probably been asked to summon him too but without success.
As K. entered the reception room two men stood up from the deep
armchairs where they had been sitting. The director gave him a friendly
smile, he was clearly very glad that K. was there, he immediately
introduced him to the Italian who shook K.'s hand vigorously and joked
that somebody was an early riser. K. did not quite understand whom he
had in mind, it was moreover an odd expression to use and it took K. a
little while to guess its meaning. He replied with a few bland phrases
which the Italian received once more with a laugh, passing his hand
nervously and repeatedly over his blue-grey, bushy moustache. This
moustache was obviously perfumed, it was almost tempting to come close
to it and sniff. When they had all sat down and begun a light
preliminary conversation, K. was disconcerted to notice that he
understood no more than fragments of what the