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the guilty speak.” “Do you presume I’m guilty too?” asked
K. “I make no presumptions about you,” said the priest. “I
thank you for that,” said K. “but everyone else involved in
these proceedings has something against me and presumes
I’m guilty. They even influence those who aren’t involved.
My position gets harder all the time.” “You don’t under-
stand the facts,” said the priest, “the verdict does not come
suddenly, proceedings continue until a verdict is reached
gradually.” “I see,” said K., lowering his head. “What do you
intend to do about your case next?” asked the priest. “I still
need to find help,” said K., raising his head to see what the
priest thought of this. “There are still certain possibilities I
haven’t yet made use of.” “You look for too much help from
people you don’t know,” said the priest disapprovingly, “and
especially from women. Can you really not see that’s not the
help you need?” “Sometimes, in fact quite often, I could be-
lieve you’re right,” said K., “but not always. Women have a
lot of power. If I could persuade some of the women I know
to work together with me then I would be certain to suc-
ceed. Especially in a court like this that seems to consist
of nothing but woman-chasers. Show the examining judge
a woman in the distance and he’ll run right over the desk,
and the accused, just to get to her as soon as he can.” The
priest lowered his head down to the balustrade, only now
did the roof over the pulpit seem to press him down. What
sort of dreadful weather could it be outside? It was no lon-
ger just a dull day, it was deepest night. None of the stained
glass in the main window shed even a flicker of light on the
darkness of the walls. And this was the moment when the

The Trial