Page 176 - the-trial

sight of the picture seemed to make him feel like working,
he rolled up his shirtsleeves, picked up a few of the crayons,
and K. watched as a reddish shadow built up around the
head of the judge under their quivering tips and radiated
out the to edges of the picture. This shadow play slowly sur-
rounded the head like a decoration or lofty distinction. But
around the figure of Justice, apart from some coloration
that was barely noticeable, it remained light, and in this
brightness the figure seemed to shine forward so that it now
looked like neither the God of Justice nor the God of Vic-
tory, it seemed now, rather, to be a perfect depiction of the
God of the Hunt. K. found the painter’s work more engross-
ing than he had wanted; but finally he reproached himself
for staying so long without having done anything relevant
to his own affair. “What’s the name of this judge?” he asked
suddenly. “I’m not allowed to tell you that,” the painter an-
swered. He was bent deeply over the picture and clearly
neglecting his guest who, at first, he had received with such
care. K. took this to be just a foible of the painter’s, and it ir-
ritated him as it made him lose time. “I take it you must be
a trustee of the court,” he said. The painter immediately put
his crayons down, stood upright, rubbed his hands together
and looked at K. with a smile. “Always straight out with the
truth,” he said. “You want to learn something about the
court, like it says in your letter of recommendation, but
then you start talking about my pictures to get me on your
side. Still, I won’t hold it against you, you weren’t to know
that that was entirely the wrong thing to try with me. Oh,
please!” he said sharply, repelling K.’s attempt to make some

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