their hands as spyglasses, or merely glancing at him while apparently completely absorbed in grooming their beards, on which they spent much thought and which they were for ever comparing in length and thickness, calling on Frieda to decide between them.
From his bed K. often watched the antics of all three with the completest indifference.
When he felt himself well enough to leave his bed, they all ran to serve him. He was not yet strong enough to ward off their services, and noted that that brought him into a state of dependence on them which might have evil consequences, but he could not help it.
Nor was it really unpleasant to drink at the table the good coffee which Frieda had brought, to warm himself at the stove which Frieda had lit, and to have the assistants racing ten times up and down the stairs in their awkwardness and zeal to fetch him soap and water, comb and lookingglass, and eventually even a small glass of rum because he had hinted in a low voice at his desire for one. Among all this giving of orders and being waited on, K. said, more out of good humour than any hope of being obeyed:
"Go away now, you two, I need nothing more for the present, and I want to speak to Fraulein Frieda by herself."
And when he saw no direct opposition on their faces he added, by way of excusing them:
"We three shall go to the village Superintendent afterwards, so wait downstairs in the bar for me."
Strangely enough they obeyed him, only turning to say before going: "We could wait here."
But K. answered: "I know, but I don't want you to wait here."
It annoyed him, however, and yet in a sense pleased him when Frieda, who had settled on his knee as soon as the assistants were gone, said:
"What's your objection to the assistants, darling? We don't need to have any mysteries before them. They are true friends."
"Oh, true friends," said K., "they keep spying on me the whole time, it's nonsensical but abominable."
"I believe I know what you mean," she said, and she clung to his neck and tried to say something else but could not go on speaking, and since their chair was close to it they reeled over and fell on the bed. There they lay, but not in the forgetfulness of the previous night. She was seeking and he was seeking, they raged and contorted their faces and bored their heads into each other's bosoms in the urgency of seeking something, and their embraces and their tossing limbs did not avail to make them forget, but only reminded them of what they sought; like dogs desperately tearing up the ground they tore at each other's bodies, and often, helplessly baffled, in a final effort to attain happiness they nuzzled and tongued each other's face. Sheer weariness stilled them at last and brought them gratitude to each other. Then the maids came in. "Look how they're lying there," said one, and sympathetically cast a coverlet over them.
When somewhat later K. freed himself from the coverlet and looked round, the two assistants - and he was not surprised at that-were again in their corner, and with a finger jerked towards K. nudged each other to a formal salute, but besides them the landlady was sitting near the bed knitting away at a stocking, an infinitesimal piece of work hardly suited to her enormous bulk which almost darkened the room.
"I've been here a long time," she said, lifting up her broad and much furrowed face which was, however, still rounded and might once have been beautiful.
The words sounded like a reproach, an ill-timed reproach, for K. had not desired her to come. So he merely acknowledged them by a nod, and sat up. Frieda also got up, but left K. to lean over the landlady's chair.
"If you want to speak to me," said K. in bewilderment, "couldn't you put it off until after I come back from visiting the Superintendent? I have important business with him."
"This is important, believe me, sir," said the landlady, "your other business is probably only a question of work, but this concerns a living person,
From his bed K. often watched the antics of all three with the completest indifference.
When he felt himself well enough to leave his bed, they all ran to serve him. He was not yet strong enough to ward off their services, and noted that that brought him into a state of dependence on them which might have evil consequences, but he could not help it.
Nor was it really unpleasant to drink at the table the good coffee which Frieda had brought, to warm himself at the stove which Frieda had lit, and to have the assistants racing ten times up and down the stairs in their awkwardness and zeal to fetch him soap and water, comb and lookingglass, and eventually even a small glass of rum because he had hinted in a low voice at his desire for one. Among all this giving of orders and being waited on, K. said, more out of good humour than any hope of being obeyed:
"Go away now, you two, I need nothing more for the present, and I want to speak to Fraulein Frieda by herself."
And when he saw no direct opposition on their faces he added, by way of excusing them:
"We three shall go to the village Superintendent afterwards, so wait downstairs in the bar for me."
Strangely enough they obeyed him, only turning to say before going: "We could wait here."
But K. answered: "I know, but I don't want you to wait here."
It annoyed him, however, and yet in a sense pleased him when Frieda, who had settled on his knee as soon as the assistants were gone, said:
"What's your objection to the assistants, darling? We don't need to have any mysteries before them. They are true friends."
"Oh, true friends," said K., "they keep spying on me the whole time, it's nonsensical but abominable."
"I believe I know what you mean," she said, and she clung to his neck and tried to say something else but could not go on speaking, and since their chair was close to it they reeled over and fell on the bed. There they lay, but not in the forgetfulness of the previous night. She was seeking and he was seeking, they raged and contorted their faces and bored their heads into each other's bosoms in the urgency of seeking something, and their embraces and their tossing limbs did not avail to make them forget, but only reminded them of what they sought; like dogs desperately tearing up the ground they tore at each other's bodies, and often, helplessly baffled, in a final effort to attain happiness they nuzzled and tongued each other's face. Sheer weariness stilled them at last and brought them gratitude to each other. Then the maids came in. "Look how they're lying there," said one, and sympathetically cast a coverlet over them.
When somewhat later K. freed himself from the coverlet and looked round, the two assistants - and he was not surprised at that-were again in their corner, and with a finger jerked towards K. nudged each other to a formal salute, but besides them the landlady was sitting near the bed knitting away at a stocking, an infinitesimal piece of work hardly suited to her enormous bulk which almost darkened the room.
"I've been here a long time," she said, lifting up her broad and much furrowed face which was, however, still rounded and might once have been beautiful.
The words sounded like a reproach, an ill-timed reproach, for K. had not desired her to come. So he merely acknowledged them by a nod, and sat up. Frieda also got up, but left K. to lean over the landlady's chair.
"If you want to speak to me," said K. in bewilderment, "couldn't you put it off until after I come back from visiting the Superintendent? I have important business with him."
"This is important, believe me, sir," said the landlady, "your other business is probably only a question of work, but this concerns a living person,
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