bed. He had been reading something by the light of a candle but now he
laid it onto the bedside table and put his glasses on, looking at K.
sharply through them. Instead of apologising K. said, "I'll be leaving
again soon." As he had not apologised the lawyer ignored what K. said,
and replied, "I won't let you in this late again next time." "I find
that quite acceptable," said K. The lawyer looked at him quizzically.
"Sit down," he said. "As you wish," said K., drawing a chair up to the
bedside table and sitting down. "It seemed to me that you locked the
door," said the lawyer. "Yes," said K., "it was because of Leni." He
had no intention of letting anyone off lightly. But the lawyer asked
him, "Was she being importunate again?" "Importunate?" asked K. "Yes,"
said the lawyer, laughing as he did so, had a fit of coughing and then,
once it had passed, began to laugh again. "I'm sure you must have
noticed how importunate she can be sometimes," he said, and patted K.'s
hand which K. had rested on the bedside table and which he now snatched
back. "You don't attach much importance to it, then," said the lawyer
when K. was silent, "so much the better. Otherwise I might have needed
to apologise to you. It is a peculiarity of Leni's. I've long since
forgiven her for it, and I wouldn't be talking of it now, if you hadn't
locked the door just now. Anyway, perhaps I should at least explain this
peculiarity of hers to you, but you seem rather disturbed, the way
you're looking at me, and so that's why I'll do it, this peculiarity of
hers consists in this: Leni finds most of the accused attractive. She
attaches herself to each of them, loves each of them, even seems to be
loved by each of them; then she sometimes entertains me by telling me
about them when I allow her to. I am not so astonished by all of this as
you seem to be. If you look at them in the right way the accused really
can be attractive, quite often. But that is a remarkable and to some
extent scientific phenomenon. Being indicted does not cause any clear,
precisely definable change in a person's appearance, of course. But
it's not like with other legal matters, most of them remain in their
usual way of life and, if they have a good lawyer looking after them,
the trial doesn't get in their way. But there are nonetheless those who
have experience in these matters who can look at a crowd, however big,
and tell you which among them is facing a charge. How can they do that,
you will ask? My answer will not please you. It is simply that those who
are facing a charge are the most attractive. It cannot be their guilt
that makes them attractive as not all of them are guilty--at least
that's what I, as a lawyer, have to say--and nor can it be the proper
punishment that has made them attractive as not all of them are
punished, so it can only be that the proceedings levelled against them
take some kind of hold on them. Whatever the reason, some of these
attractive people are indeed very attractive. But all of them are
attractive, even Block, pitiful worm that he is." As the lawyer
finished what he was saying, K. was fully in control of himself, he had
even nodded conspicuously at his last few words in order to confirm to
himself the view he had already formed: that the lawyer was trying to
confuse him, as he always did, by making general and irrelevant
observations, and thus distract him from the main question of what he
was actually doing for K.'s trial. The lawyer must have noticed that K.
was offering him more resistance than before, as he became silent,
giving K. the chance to speak himself, and then, as K. also remained
silent, he asked, "Did you have a particular reason for coming to see
me today?" "Yes," said K., putting his hand up to slightly shade his
eyes from the light of the candle so that he could see the lawyer
better, "I wanted to tell you that I'm withdrawing my representation
from you, with immediate effect." "Do I understand you rightly?" asked
the lawyer as he half raised himself in his bed and supported himself
with one hand on the pillow. "I think you do," said K., sitting stiffly
upright as if waiting in ambush. "Well we can certainly discuss this
plan of yours," said the lawyer after a pause. "It's not a plan any
more," said K. "That may be," said the lawyer, "but we still mustn't
rush anything." He used the word 'we', as if he had no intention of
letting K. go free, and as if, even if he could no longer represent him,
he could still at least continue as his adviser. "Nothing is being
rushed," said K., standing slowly up and going behind his chair,
"everything has been well thought out and probably even for too long.
The decision is final." "Then allow me to say a few words," said the
lawyer, throwing the bed cover to one side and sitting on the edge of
the bed. His naked, white-haired legs shivered in the cold. He asked K.
to pass him a blanket from the couch. K. passed him the blanket and
said, "You are running the risk of catching cold for no reason." "The
circumstances are important enough," said the lawyer as he wrapped the
bed cover around the top half of his body and then the blanket around
his legs. "Your uncle is my friend and in the course of time I've become
fond of you as well. I admit that quite openly. There's nothing in that
for me to be ashamed of." It was very unwelcome for K. to hear the old
man speak in this touching way, as it forced him to explain himself more
fully, which he would rather have avoided, and he was aware that it also
confused him even though it could never make him reverse his decision.
"Thank you for feeling so friendly toward me," he said, "and I also
realise how deeply involved you've been in my case, as deeply as
possible for yourself and to bring as much advantage as possible to me.
Nonetheless, I have recently come to the conviction that it is not
enough. I would naturally never attempt, considering that you are so
much older and more experienced than I am, to convince you of my
opinion; if I have ever unintentionally done so then I beg your
forgiveness, but, as you have just said yourself, the circumstances are
important enough and it is my belief that my trial needs to be
approached with much more vigour than has so far been the case." "I
see," said the lawyer, "you've become impatient." "I am not impatient,"
said K., with some irritation and he stopped paying so much attention to
his choice of words. "When I first came here with my uncle you probably
noticed I wasn't greatly concerned about my case, and if I wasn't
reminded of it by force, as it were, I would forget about it completely.
But my uncle insisted I should allow you to represent me and I did so as
a favour to him. I could have expected the case to be less of a burden
than it had been, as the point of taking on a lawyer is that he should
take on some of its weight. But what actually happened was the opposite.
Before, the trial was never such a worry for me as it has been since
you've been representing me. When I was by myself I never did anything
about my case, I was hardly aware of it, but then, once there was
someone representing me, everything was set for something to happen, I
was always, without cease, waiting for you to do something, getting more
and more tense, but you did nothing. I did get some information about
the court from you that I probably could not have got anywhere else, but
that can't be enough when the trial, supposedly in secret, is getting
closer and closer to me." K. had pushed the chair away and stood erect,
his hands in the pockets of his frock coat. "After a certain point in
the proceedings," said the lawyer quietly and calmly, "nothing new of
any importance ever happens. So many litigants, at the same stage in
their trials, have stood before me just like you are now and spoken in
the same way." "Then these other litigants," said K., "have all been
right, just as I am. That does not show that I'm not." "I wasn't trying
to show that you were mistaken," said the lawyer, "but I wanted to add
that I expected better judgement from you than from the others,
especially as I've given you more insight into the workings of the court
and my own activities than I normally do. And now I'm forced to accept
that, despite everything, you have too little trust in me. You don't
make it easy for me." How the lawyer was humiliating himself to K.! He
was showing no regard for the dignity of his position, which on this
point, must have been at its most sensitive. And why did he do that? He
did seem to be very busy as a lawyer as well a rich man, neither the
loss of income nor the loss of a client could have been of much
importance to him in themselves. He was moreover unwell and should have
been thinking of passing work on to others. And despite all that he held
on tightly to K. Why? Was it something personal for his uncle's sake, or
did he really see K.'s case as one that was exceptional and hoped to be
able to distinguish himself with it, either for K.'s sake or--and this
possibility could never be excluded--for his friends at the court. It
was not possible to learn anything by looking at him, even though K. was
scrutinizing him quite brazenly. It could almost be supposed he was
deliberately hiding his thoughts as he waited to see what effect his
words would have. But he clearly deemed K.'s silence to be favourable
for himself and he continued, "You will have noticed the size of my
office, but that I don't employ any staff to help me. That used to be
quite different, there was a time when several young lawyers were
working for me but now I work alone. This is partly to do with changes
in the way I do business, in that I concentrate nowadays more and more
on matters such as your own case, and partly to do with the ever deeper
understanding that I acquire from these legal matters. I found that I
could never let anyone else deal with this sort of work unless I wanted
to harm both the client and the job I had taken on. But the decision to
do all the work myself had its obvious result: I was forced to turn
almost everyone away who asked me to represent them and could only
accept those I was especially interested in--well there are enough
creatures who leap at every crumb I throw down, and they're not so very
far away. Most importantly, I became ill from over-work. But despite
that I don't regret my decision, quite possibly I should have turned
more cases away than I did, but it did turn out to be entirely necessary
for me to devote myself fully to the cases I did take on, and the
successful results showed that it was worth it. I once read a
description of the difference between representing someone in ordinary
legal matters and in legal matters of this sort, and the writer
expressed it very well. This is what he said: some lawyers lead their
clients on a thread until judgement is passed, but there are others who
immediately lift their clients onto their shoulders and carry them all
the way to the judgement and beyond. That's just how it is. But it was
quite true when I said I never regret all this work. But if, as in your
case, they are so fully misunderstood, well, then I come very close to
regretting it." All this talking did more to make K. impatient than to
persuade him. From the way the lawyer was speaking, K. thought he could
hear what he could expect if he gave in, the delays and excuses would
begin again, reports of how the documents were progressing, how the mood
of the court officials had improved, as well as all the enormous
difficulties--in short all that he had heard so many times before would
be brought out again even more fully, he would try to mislead K. with
hopes that were never specified and to make him suffer with threats that
were never clear. He had to put a stop to that, so he said, "What will
you undertake on my behalf if you continue to represent me?" The lawyer
quietly accepted even this insulting question, and answered, "I should
continue with what I've already been doing for you." "That's just what I
thought," said K., "and now you don't need to say another word." "I will
make one more attempt," said the lawyer as if whatever had been making
K. so annoyed was affecting him too. "You see, I have the impression
that you have not only misjudged the legal assistance I have given you
but also that that misjudgement has led you to behave in this way, you
seem, although you are the accused, to have been treated too well or, to
put it a better way, handled with neglect, with apparent neglect. Even
that has its reason; it is often better to be in chains than to be free.
But I would like to show you how other defendants are treated, perhaps
you will succeed in learning something from it. What I will do is I will
call Block in, unlock the door and sit down here beside the bedside
table." "Be glad to," said K., and did as the lawyer suggested; he was
always ready to learn something new. But to make sure of himself for any
event he added, "but you do realise that you are no longer to be my
lawyer, don't you?" "Yes," said the lawyer. "But you can still change
your mind today if you want to." He lay back down in the bed, pulled the
quilt up to his chin and turned to face the wall. Then he rang.
Leni appeared almost the moment he had done so. She looked hurriedly at
K. and the lawyer to try and find out what had happened; she seemed to
be reassured by the sight of K. sitting calmly at the lawyer's bed. She
smiled and nodded to K., K. looked blankly back at her. "Fetch Block,"
said the lawyer. But instead of going to fetch him, Leni just went to
the door and called out, "Block! To the lawyer!" Then, probably because
the lawyer had turned his face to the wall and was paying no attention,
she slipped in behind K.'s chair. From then on, she bothered him by
leaning forward over the back of the chair or, albeit very tenderly and
carefully, she would run her hands through his hair and over his
cheeks. K. eventually tried to stop her by taking hold of one hand, and
after some resistance Leni let him keep hold of it. Block came as soon
as he was called, but he remained standing in the doorway and seemed to
be wondering whether he should enter or not. He raised his eyebrows and
lowered his head as if listening to find out whether the order to
attend the lawyer would be repeated. K. could have encouraged him to
enter, but he had decided to make a final break not only with the
lawyer but with everything in his home, so he kept himself motionless.
Leni was also silent. Block noticed that at least no-one was chasing
him away, and, on tiptoe, he entered the room, his face was tense, his
hands were clenched behind his back. He left the door open in case he
needed to go back again. K. did not even glance at him, he looked
instead only at the thick quilt under which the lawyer could not be seen
as he had squeezed up very close to the wall. Then his voice was heard:
"Block here?" he asked. Block had already crept some way into the room
but this question seemed to give him first a shove in the breast and
then another in the back, he seemed about to fall but remained
standing, deeply bowed, and said, "At your service, sir." "What do you
want?" asked the lawyer, "you've come at a bad time." "Wasn't I
summoned?" asked Block, more to himself than the lawyer. He held his
hands in front of himself as protection and would have been ready to run
away any moment. "You were summoned," said the lawyer, "but you have
still come at a bad time." Then, after a pause he added, "You always
come at a bad time." When the lawyer started speaking Block had stopped
looking at the bed but stared rather into one of the corners, just
listening, as if the light from the speaker were brighter than Block
could bear to look at. But it was also difficult for him to listen, as
the lawyer was speaking into the wall and speaking quickly and quietly.
"Would you like me to go away again, sir?" asked Block. "Well you're
here now," said the lawyer. "Stay!" It was as if the lawyer had not done
as Block had wanted but instead threatened him with a stick, as now
Block really began to shake. "I went to see," said the lawyer, "the
third judge yesterday, a friend of mine, and slowly brought the
conversation round to the subject of you. Do you want to know what he
said?" "Oh, yes please," said Block. The lawyer did not answer
immediately, so Block repeated his request and lowered his head as if
about to kneel down. But then K. spoke to him: "What do you think you're
doing?" he shouted. Leni had wanted to stop him from calling out and so
he took hold of her other hand. It was not love that made him squeeze it
and hold on to it so tightly, she sighed frequently and tried to
disengage her hands from him. But Block was punished for K.'s outburst,
as the lawyer asked him, "Who is your lawyer?" "You are, sir," said
Block. "And who besides me?" the lawyer asked. "No-one besides you,
sir," said Block. "And let there be no-one besides me," said the lawyer.
Block fully understood what that meant, he glowered at K., shaking his
head violently. If these actions had been translated into words they
would have been coarse insults. K. had been friendly and willing to
discuss his own case with someone like this! "I won't disturb you any
more," said K., leaning back in his chair. "You can kneel down or creep
on all fours, whatever you like. I won't bother with you any more." But
Block still had some sense of pride, at least where K. was concerned,
and he went towards him waving his fists, shouting as loudly as he dared
while the lawyer was there. "You shouldn't speak to me like that, that's
not allowed. Why are you insulting me? Especially here in front of the
lawyer, where both of us, you and me, we're only tolerated because of
his charity. You're not a better person than me, you've been accused of
something too, you're facing a charge too. If, in spite of that, you're
still a gentleman then I'm just as much a gentleman as you are, if not
even more so. And I want to be spoken to as a gentleman, especially by
you. If you think being allowed to sit there and quietly listen while I
creep on all fours as you put it makes you something better than me,
then there's an old legal saying you ought to bear in mind: If you're
under suspicion it's better to be moving than still, as if you're still
you can be in the pan of the scales without knowing it and be weighed
along with your sins." K. said nothing. He merely looked in amazement at
this distracted being, his eyes completely still. He had gone through
such changes in just the last few hours! Was it the trial that was
throwing him from side to side in this way and stopped him knowing who
was friend and who was foe? Could he not see the lawyer was deliberately
humiliating him and had no other purpose today than to show off his
power to K., and perhaps even thereby subjugate K.? But if Block was
incapable of seeing that, or if he so feared the lawyer that no such
insight would even be of any use to him, how was it that he was either
so sly or so bold as to lie to the lawyer and conceal from him the fact
that he had other lawyers working on his behalf? And how did he dare to
attack K., who could betray his secret any time he liked? But he dared
even more than this, he went to the lawyer's bed and began there to make
complaints about K. "Dr. Huld, sir," he said, "did you hear the way this
man spoke to me? You can count the length of his trial in hours, and he
wants to tell me what to do when I've been involved in a legal case for
five years. He even insults me. He doesn't know anything, but he insults
me, when I, as far as my weak ability allows, when I've made a close
study of how to behave with the court, what we ought to do and what the
court practices are." "Don't let anyone bother you," said the lawyer,
"and do what seems to you to be right." "I will," said Block, as if
speaking to himself to give himself courage, and with a quick glance to
the side he knelt down close beside the bed. "I'm kneeling now, Dr.
Huld, sir," he said. But the lawyer remained silent. With one hand,
Block carefully stroked the bed cover. In the silence while he did so,
Leni, as she freed herself from K.'s hands, said, "You're hurting me.
Let go of me. I'm going over to Block." She went over to him and sat on
the edge of the bed. Block was very pleased at this and with lively,
but silent, gestures he immediately urged her to intercede for him with
the lawyer. It was clear that he desperately needed to be told something
by the lawyer, although perhaps only so that he could make use of the
information with his other lawyers. Leni probably knew very well how
the lawyer could be brought round, pointed to his hand and pursed her
lips as if making a kiss. Block immediately performed the hand-kiss and,
at further urging from Leni, repeated it twice more. But the lawyer
continued to be silent. Then Leni leant over the lawyer, as she
stretched out, the attractive shape of her body could be seen, and,
bent over close to his face, she stroked his long white hair. That now
forced him to give an answer. "I'm rather wary of telling him," said
the lawyer, and his head could be seen shaking slightly, perhaps so that
he would feel the pressure of Leni's hand better. Block listened
closely with his head lowered, as if by listening he were breaking an
order. "What makes you so wary about it?" asked Leni. K. had the feeling
he was listening to a contrived dialogue that had been repeated many
times, that would be repeated many times more, and that for Block alone
it would never lose its freshness. "What has his behaviour been like
today?" asked the lawyer instead of an answer. Before Leni said
anything she looked down at Block and watched him a short while as he
raised his hands towards her and rubbed them together imploringly.
Finally she gave a serious nod, turned back to the lawyer and said,
"He's been quiet and industrious." This was an elderly businessman, a
man whose beard was long, and he was begging a young girl to speak on
his behalf. Even if there was some plan behind what he did, there was
nothing that could reinstate him in the eyes of his fellow man. K. could
not understand how the lawyer could have thought this performance would
win him over. Even if he had done nothing earlier to make him want to
leave then this scene would have done so. It was almost humiliating even
for the onlooker. So these were the lawyer's methods, which K.
fortunately had not been exposed to for long, to let the client forget
about the whole world and leave him with nothing but the hope of
reaching the end of his trial by this deluded means. He was no longer a
client, he was the lawyer's dog. If the lawyer had ordered him to crawl
under the bed as if it were a kennel and to bark out from under it, then
he would have done so with enthusiasm. K. listened to all of this,
testing it and thinking it over as if he had been given the task of
closely observing everything spoken here, inform a higher office about
it and write a report. "And what has he been doing all day?" asked the
lawyer. "I kept him locked in the maid's room all day," said Leni, "so
that he wouldn't stop me doing my work. That's where he usually stays.
From time to time I looked in through the spyhole to see what he was
doing, and each time he was kneeling on the bed and reading the papers
you gave him, propped up on the window sill. That made a good impression
on me; as the window only opens onto an air shaft and gives hardly any
light. It showed how obedient he is that he was even reading in those
conditions." "I'm pleased to hear it," said the lawyer. "But did he
understand what he was reading?" While this conversation was going on,
Block continually moved his lips and was clearly formulating the answers
he hoped Leni would give. "Well I can't give you any certain answer to
that of course," said Leni, "but I could see that he was reading
thoroughly. He spent all day reading the same page, running his finger
along the lines. Whenever I looked in on him he sighed as if this
reading was a lot of work for him. I expect the papers you gave him were
very hard to understand." "Yes," said the lawyer, "they certainly are
that. And I really don't think he understood anything of them. But they
should at least give him some inkling of just how hard a struggle it is
and how much work it is for me to defend him. And who am I doing all
this hard work for? I'm doing it--it's laughable even to say it--I'm
doing it for Block. He ought to realise what that means, too. Did he
study without a pause?" "Almost without a pause," answered Leni. "Just
the once he asked me for a drink of water, so I gave him a glassful
through the window. Then at eight o'clock I let him out and gave him
something to eat." Block glanced sideways at K., as if he were being
praised and had to impress K. as well. He now seemed more optimistic, he
moved more freely and rocked back and forth on his knees. This made his
astonishment all the more obvious when he heard the following words from
the lawyer: "You speak well of him," said the lawyer, "but that's just
what makes it difficult for me. You see, the judge did not speak well of
him at all, neither about Block nor about his case." "Didn't speak well
of him?" asked Leni. "How is that possible?" Block looked at her with
such tension he seemed to think that although the judge's words had been
spoken so long before she would be able to change them in his favour.
"Not at all," said the lawyer. "In fact he became quite cross when I
started to talk about Block to him. 'Don't talk to me about Block,' he
said. 'He is my client,' said I. 'You're letting him abuse you,' he
said. 'I don't think his case is lost yet,' said I. 'You're letting him
abuse you,' he repeated. 'I don't think so,' said I. 'Block works hard
in his case and always knows where it stands. He practically lives with
me so that he always knows what's happening. You don't always find such
enthusiasm as that. He's not very pleasant personally, I grant you, his
manners are terrible and he's dirty, but as far as the trial's concerned
he's quite immaculate.' I said immaculate, but I was deliberately
exaggerating. Then he said, 'Block is sly, that's all. He's accumulated
plenty of experience and knows how to delay proceedings. But there's
more that he doesn't know than he does. What do you think he'd say if he
learned his trial still hasn't begun, if you told him they haven't even
rung the bell to announce the start of proceedings?' Alright Block,
alright," said the lawyer, as at these words Block had begun to raise
himself on his trembling knees and clearly wanted to plead for some
explanation. It was the first time the lawyer had spoken any clear words
directly to Block. He looked down with his tired eyes, half blankly and
half at Block, who slowly sank back down on his knees under this gaze.
"What the judge said has no meaning for you," said the lawyer. "You
needn't be frightened at every word. If you do it again I won't tell you
anything else at all. It's impossible to start a sentence without you
looking at me as if you were receiving your final judgement. You should
be ashamed of yourself here in front of my client! And you're destroying
the trust he has for me. Just what is it you want? You're still alive,
you're still under my protection. There's no point in worrying!
Somewhere you've read that the final judgement can often come without
warning, from anyone at any time. And, in the right circumstances,
that's basically true, but it's also true that I dislike your anxiety
and fear and see that you don't have the trust in me you should have.
Now what have I just said? I repeated something said by one of the
judges. You know that there are so many various opinions about the
procedure that they form into a great big pile and nobody can make any
sense of them. This judge, for instance, sees proceedings as starting at
a different point from where I do. A difference of opinion, nothing
more. At a certain stage in the proceedings tradition has it that a sign
is given by ringing a bell. This judge sees that as the point at which
proceedings begin. I can't set out all the opinions opposed to that
view here, and you wouldn't understand it anyway, suffice it to say
that there are many reasons to disagree with him." Embarrassed, Block
ran his fingers through the pile of the carpet, his anxiety about what
the judge had said had let him forget his inferior status towards the
lawyer for a while, he thought only about himself and turned the judge's
words round to examine them from all sides. "Block," said Leni, as if
reprimanding him, and, taking hold of the collar of his coat, pulled him
up slightly higher. "Leave the carpet alone and listen to what the
lawyer is saying."
_This chapter was left unfinished._
Chapter Nine
In the Cathedral
A very important Italian business contact of the bank had come to visit
the city for the first time and K. was given the task of showing him
some of its cultural sights. At any other time he would have seen this
job as an honour but now, when he was finding it hard even to maintain
his current position in the bank, he accepted it only with reluctance.
Every hour that he could not be in the office was a cause of concern
for him, he was no longer able to make use of his time in the office
anything like as well as he had previously, he spent many hours merely
pretending to do important work, but that only increased his anxiety
about not being in the office. Then he sometimes thought he saw the
deputy director, who was always watching, come into K.'s office, sit at
his desk, look through his papers, receive clients who had almost
become old friends of K., and lure them away from him, perhaps he even
discovered mistakes, mistakes that seemed to threaten K. from a
thousand directions when he was at work now, and which he could no
longer avoid. So now, if he was ever asked to leave the office on
business or even needed to make a short business trip, however much an
honour it seemed--and tasks of this sort happened to have increased
substantially recently--there was always the suspicion that they wanted
to get him out of his office for a while and check his work, or at
least the idea that they thought he was dispensable. It would not have
been difficult for him to turn down most of these jobs, but he did not
dare to do so because, if his fears had the slightest foundation,
turning the jobs down would have been an acknowledgement of them. For
this reason, he never demurred from accepting them, and even when he
was asked to go on a tiring business trip lasting two days he said
nothing about having to go out in the rainy autumn weather when he had a
severe chill, just in order to avoid the risk of not being asked to go.
When, with a raging headache, he arrived back from this trip he learned
that he had been chosen to accompany the Italian business contact the
following day. The temptation for once to turn the job down was very
great, especially as it had no direct connection with business, but
there was no denying that social obligations towards this business
contact were in themselves important enough, only not for K., who knew
quite well that he needed some successes at work if he was to maintain
his position there and that, if he failed in that, it would not help
him even if this Italian somehow found him quite charming; he did not
want to be removed from his workplace for even one day, as the fear of
not being allowed back in was too great, he knew full well that the fear
was exaggerated but it still made him anxious. However, in this case it
was almost impossible to think of an acceptable excuse, his knowledge
of Italian was not great but still good enough; the deciding factor was
that K. had earlier known a little about art history and this had
become widely known around the bank in extremely exaggerated form, and
that K. had been a member of the Society for the Preservation of City
Monuments, albeit only for business reasons. It was said that this
Italian was an art lover, so the choice of K. to accompany him was a
matter of course.