Page 196 - the-trial

They’re all moorland landscapes, I’ve painted a lot of moor-
land landscapes. A lot of people don’t like that sort of picture
because they’re too gloomy, but there are others, and you’re
one of them, who love gloomy themes.” But K. was not in
the mood to hear about the professional experiences of this
painter cum beggar. “Wrap them all up!” he called out, in-
terrupting the painter as he was speaking, “my servant will
come to fetch them in the morning.” “There’s no need for
that,” said the painter. “I expect I can find a porter for you
who can go with you now.” And, at last, he leant over the
bed and unlocked the door. “Just step on the bed, don’t wor-
ry about that,” said the painter, “that’s what everyone does
who comes in here.” Even without this invitation, K. had
shown no compunction in already placing his foot in the
middle of the bed covers, then he looked out through the
open door and drew his foot back again. “What is that?” he
asked the painter. “What are you so surprised at?” he asked,
surprised in his turn. “Those are court offices. Didn’t you
know there are court offices here? There are court offices in
almost every attic, why should this building be any differ-
ent? Even my studio is actually one of the court offices but
the court put it at my disposal.” It was not so much finding
court offices even here that shocked K., he was mainly
shocked at himself, at his own na•vety in court matters. It
seemed to him that one of the most basic rules governing
how a defendant should behave was always to be prepared,
never allow surprises, never to look, unsuspecting, to the
right when the judge stood beside him to his left and this
was the very basic rule that he was continually violating. A

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