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turer, “and that even applies to what it is that I wanted to
tell you about.” “There are so many people who have con-
nections with the court!” said K. with lowered head, and
he led the manufacturer over to his desk. They sat down
where they had been before, and the manufacturer said,
“I’m afraid it’s not very much that I’ve got to tell you about.
Only, in matters like this, it’s best not to overlook the tini-
est details. Besides, I really want to help you in some way,
however modest my help might be. We’ve been good busi-
ness partners up till now, haven’t we? Well then.” K. wanted
to apologise for his behaviour in the conversation earlier
that day, but the manufacturer would tolerate no interrup-
tion, shoved his briefcase up high in his armpit to show that
he was in a hurry, and carried on. “I know about your case
through a certain Titorelli. He’s a painter, Titorelli’s just his
artistic name, I don’t even know what his real name is. He’s
been coming to me in my office for years from time to time,
and brings little pictures with him which I buy more or less
just for the sake of charity as he’s hardly more than a beg-
gar. And they’re nice pictures, too, moorland landscapes
and that sort of thing. We’d both got used to doing business
in this way and it always went smoothly. Only, one time
these visits became a bit too frequent, I began to tell him
off for it, we started talking and I became interested how it
was that he could earn a living just by painting, and then I
learned to my amazement that his main source of income
was painting portraits. ‘I work for the court,’ he said, ‘what
court?’ said I. And that’s when he told me about the court.
I’m sure you can imagine how amazed I was at being told all

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