Page 168 - the-trial

his own office.
“I can’t deal with him right now,” K. said to himself, “but
once my personal difficulties have been settled, then he’ll
certainly be the first to get the effect of it, and he certainly
won’t like it.” Slightly calmed by these thoughts, K. gave the
servitor, who had already long been holding the door to the
corridor open for him, the task of telling the director, when
he was able, that K. was going out of the bank on a busi-
ness matter. As he left the bank he felt almost happy at the
thought of being able to devote more of himself to his own
business for a while.
He went straight to the painter, who lived in an outly-
ing part of town which was very near to the court offices,
although this area was even poorer, the houses were dark-
er, the streets were full of dirt that slowly blew about over
the half-melted snow. In the great gateway to the build-
ing where the painter lived only one of the two doors was
open, a hole had been broken open in the wall by the other
door, and as K. approached it a repulsive, yellow, steam-
ing liquid shot out causing some rats to scurry away into
the nearby canal. Down by the staircase there was a small
child lying on its belly crying, but it could hardly be heard
because of the noise from a metal-workshop on the other
side of the entrance hall, drowning out any other sound.
The door to the workshop was open, three workers stood in
a circle around some piece of work that they were beating
with hammers. A large tin plate hung on the wall, casting a
pale light that pushed its way in between two of the work-
ers, lighting up their faces and their work-aprons. K. did no

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