notice of K., and now there were two people coming, it only needed a few
and everyone in the office would become aware of him and asking for
explanations as to why he was there. The only understandable and
acceptable thing to say was that he was accused of something and wanted
to know the date of his next hearing, but this was an explanation he did
not want to give, especially as it was not true--he had only come out of
curiosity. Or else, an explanation even less usable, he could say that
he wanted to ascertain that the court was as revolting on the inside as
it was on the outside. And it did seem that he had been quite right in
this supposition, he had no wish to intrude any deeper, he was disturbed
enough by what he had seen already, he was not in the right frame of
mind just then to face a high official such as might appear from behind
any door, and he wanted to go, either with the usher of the court or, if
needs be, alone.
But he must have seemed very odd standing there in silence, and the
young woman and the usher were indeed looking at him as if they thought
he would go through some major metamorphosis any second which they
didn't want to miss seeing. And in the doorway stood the man whom K. had
noticed in the background earlier, he held firmly on to the beam above
the low door swinging a little on the tips of his feet as if becoming
impatient as he watched. But the young woman was the first to recognise
that K.'s behaviour was caused by his feeling slightly unwell, she
brought a chair and asked, "Would you not like to sit down?" K. sat down
immediately and, in order to keep his place better, put his elbows on
the armrests. "You're a little bit dizzy, aren't you?" she asked him.
Her face was now close in front of him, it bore the severe expression
that many young women have just when they're in the bloom of their
youth. "It's nothing for you to worry about," she said, "that's nothing
unusual here, almost everyone gets an attack like that the first time
they come here. This is your first time is it. Yes, it's nothing unusual
then. The sun burns down on the roof and the hot wood makes the air so
thick and heavy. It makes this place rather unsuitable for offices,
whatever other advantages it might offer. But the air is almost
impossible to breathe on days when there's a lot of business, and that's
almost every day. And when you think that there's a lot of washing put
out to dry here as well--and we can't stop the tenants doing that--it's
not surprising you started to feel unwell. But you get used to the air
alright in the end. When you're here for the second or third time you'll
hardly notice how oppressive the air is. Are you feeling any better
now?" K. made no answer, he felt too embarrassed at being put at the
mercy of these people by his sudden weakness, and learning the reason
for feeling ill made him feel not better but a little worse. The girl
noticed it straight away, and to make the air fresher for K., she took a
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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