“A nd what did we do meanwhile?The worst we could have done, something that would have provided better justification for their contempt than did the actual cause—we betrayed Amalia, we tore ourselves away from her silent command, we couldn't keep living like that, we couldn't live completely without hope, and in our own way each of us began to beg or to storm the Castle in an effort to make it forgive us. But we knew that we couldn't make amends, we also knew that the only hopeful connection we had with the Castle, namely, through Sortini, the official who had a fondness for Father, had been blocked for us precisely through these events, nevertheless we set to work.Father began, there began the senseless petitions to the chairman, secretaries, lawyers, clerks, generally he was not admitted, and if by means of deception or chance he actually was admitted—how we cheered and rubbed our hands at such news—then he was dismissed with extreme speed and never admitted again.Besides, it was so easy to answer him, the Castle always had an easy time of it.What did he want?What had happened to him?What did he want to be pardoned for?When, and by whom, had a finger ever been raised against him at the Castle?He was indeed impoverished, having lost his customers and so on, but this had to do with everyday life, with trade matters and the marketplace, and was the Castle supposed to take care of everything?But in reality it did take care of everything, yet it couldn't crudely intervene in developments for no reason other than to serve the interests of one individual.Should it, say, send our its officials and have them pursue Father's customers and lead them back to him by force?But, Father then objected—we carefully discussed all these matters at home beforehand and afterward, squeezed into a corner as though hiding from Amalia, who noticed everything but let us carry on—but, Father then objected, he wasn't actually complaining because of his impoverishment, everything he had lost here, he would easily make up for again, all this would be beside the point if they would only forgive him.But what should he be forgiven, they said, no complaint had been filed, at least there was no mention of it in the depositions, or at least not in the depositions open to the legal community, and consequently, insofar as could be determined, no action had been taken against him nor was there one under way.Perhaps he could name an official decree issued against him?Father could not.Or had an official organ intervened?Father knew nothing of that.Well, if he knew nothing and nothing had happened, what did he want?What could one forgive him?At most that he was now senselessly pestering the offices, but that's precisely what was so unforgivable.Father wouldn't give up, he was still very strong then and had plenty of time because of his enforced idleness.‘I shall restore Amalia's honor, it won't take much longer,'he would tell Barnabas and myself several times a day, hut only softly, for Amalia wasn't supposed to hear this;nevertheless, it was said merely for Amalia's benefit, for in reality he was not at all thinking of winning back her honor but only of securing forgiveness for her.But to obtain pardon, he first had to establish guilt, and that's precisely what they denied him at the offices.He hit on the idea—and this showed that his mind had grown feeble—that they were concealing his guilt because he wasn't paying enough;till then he had paid only the fixed fees, which were very high, at least for our circumstances.But he thought that he had to pay more, and that was certainly wrong because even though bribes are indeed accepted in our offices for the sake of simplicity and to avoid needless talk, they don't get you anywhere.But if that was Father's hope, then we had no wish to upset it.We sold what we still had—almost everything was indispensable—to provide Father with the means to pursue his inquiries, and then for a long time we had each morning the satisfaction of knowing that when Father set off in the morning there were at least a few coins in his pocket for him to jing1e.Of course we were hungry all day, whereas all we achieved with the money was to keep Father in a certain state of joyous hope.But this was hardly an advantage.He tormented himself on his rounds, and so what would have come to a well-deserved end, had it not been for the money, dragged on in this way.Since in reality they could not offer us anything special for the overpayments, a clerk occasionally tried to do something for us, at least ostensibly, promising investigations and hinting that certain leads had been found that would be pursued not out of duty but merely as a favor to Father—instead of becoming more skeptical, Father became ever more gullible.He came back with a clearly meaningless promise, as though he were restoring the full blessing to our house, and it was painful to see him standing behind Amalia's back with his contorted smile and wide-open eyes, gesturing toward her to indicate to us that the rescue of Arnalia, which would surprise nobody more than Amalia herself, was, thanks to his efforts, imminent, but that all of this was still a secret, which we should keep strictly in confidence.This would certainly have gone on for a long time if we hadn't discovered that we could no longer provide Father with money.Barnabas had been taken on as an assistant by Brunswick after much pleading, but only in such a way that each evening he collected the orders in the dark and delivered the finished work in the dark—-it is true, for our sake Brunswick had exposed his business to certain risks, but he paid Barnabas very little for that and Barnabas's work is flawless—yet the pay was barely enough to save us from real hunger.With much care and after a great deal of preparation we announced to Father that our financial assistance had been terminated, but he took this calmly.His powers of reason were now such that he could no longer understand the futility of his interventions, but he had grown weary of the continual disappointments.Although he said—he no longer spoke as clearly as before, he used to speak almost too clearly—that he would have needed very little more money, because tomorrow or even today he would have found out everything, but now everything had been in vain, and it was only because of the money that it had come to naught and so on, his tone of voice indicated that he didn't believe a word of this.And then suddenly he had new plans.Since he hadn't succeeded in establishing guilt and therefore couldn't get any further through official channels either, he would have to resort exclusively to begging and approach the officials in person.Surely there were some among them who had good, compassionate hearts, which they admittedly could not give in to at the office, but outside the office they could if you surprised them at the right moment.”
At this, K.,who had been absorbed in listening to Olga, interrupted the story by asking:“And you think that's mistaken?”True, the rest of the story would have to give him the answer to this, but he wanted to know at once.
“No,”said Olga,“there can be no talk of compassion and the like. Young and inexperienced as we were, we knew this, and Father also knew it of course, but he had forgotten it, this and most other things.He had prepared a plan to post himself on the main road near the Castle where the officials'carriages went by and then, if at all possible, to present his appeal for forgiveness.Frankly, it was a plan quite devoid of reason even if the impossible had come about and the appeal had actually reached the ear of an official.For is an individual official capable of granting pardon?At best this might be a matter for the administration as a whole, but even it is incapable of granting forgiveness, it can only judge.But even if an official wanted to give in and deal with the affair, could he form an impression based on what Father, the poor, weary, aged man, muttered to him?The officials are highly educated, but only one-sidedly so, in his own area an official can on hearing a single word dart at once through complete trains of thought, but if someone explains cases from another department to him for hours on end, he may nod politely, but he won't understand a word.Well, all this is obvious, just try to understand the minor official affairs concerning you, the tiniest things, which an official settles with a shrug, just try to understand them fully and you'll be busy all your life and never get to the end.But even if Father had managed to find an authorized official, the latter cannot settle anything without the preliminary files, and certainly not out on the road;in other words, he cannot forgive, he can only dispatch matters officially, and to this end can only refer back to official channels, but Father's attempts to achieve anything in that way had already ended in utter failure.How far downhill things must have gone for Father if he thought he could get anywhere with this new plan.Had there been even the remotest possibility of the sort, the road would be teeming with petitioners, but since this was a sheer impossibility, as even the most elementary schooling ought to make one realize, the road is completely empty.Perhaps this, too, strengthened Father's hope, he found nourishment for it everywhere.There was a great need for that too, for a healthy mind wouldn't have to get involved in such lengthy reflections;from the most superficial details it would recognize the sheer impossibility of the endeavor.When the officials drive to the village or back to the Castle, it isn't really a pleasure trip, work awaits them in the village and at the Castle, which is why they drive at top speed.Nor does it occur to them to look out the carriage window to search for supplicants, the carriages are crammed with files, which the officials are busy studying.”
“Still,”said K.,“I have seen the inside of an official's sleigh, and there were no files there.”The world unfolding to him in Olga's story was so large, almost unbelievably so, that he couldn't refrain from touching it with his meager experience in order to persuade himself more clearly of its existence as well as of his own.
“That is possible,”said Olga,“but then it's even worse since the official has such important concerns that the files are too valuable or too voluminous to be taken along, such officials give orders to drive at a gallop. In any case nobody has time to spare for Father.And besides:There are several approaches to the Castle.At times this one is fashionable and most drive there, at others that one and everyone rushes in that direction.The rules according to which these changes take place are still unknown.At eight o'clock in the morning all of them may be traveling on a certain road, half an hour later all are on a different one, ten minutes later on a third, half an hour later back on the first, which they then remain on all day, but at any moment this may change.True, all approach roads merge near the village, but by then all carriages are speeding along, whereas near the Castle the pace is somewhat more moderate.But just as the sequence of departures in relation to the roads is irregular and inscrutable, so too is the number of carriages.Indeed, there are often days when there's not a single carriage to be seen, but there soon are throngs of them out driving again.And just think of Father having to cope with all this.In his best suit, soon his only one, he sets off each morning from the house accompanied by our blessings.He takes along a small fire company badge, which he has kept illicitly, so that he can pin it on outside the village, he's afraid to show it in the village itself, though it's so small you can barely see it two paces away, and yet to Father's mind it's even supposed to be able to draw the attention of passing officials.Not far from the entrance to the Castle is a market garden, it belongs to one Bertuch who supplies the Castle with vegetables, there on the narrow stone pedestal of the garden fence Father selected a place for himself.Bertuch tolerated that because he had been friends with Father and had been one of his most faithful customers;he has a rather crippled foot, you see, and believed that only Father was capable of making him a boot that fit.Father sat there day after day, it was a bleak rainy fall but he was utterly indifferent to the weather, each morning at a certain hour he put his hand on the latch and waved goodbye;in the evening—each day he seemed more stooped—he returned completely soaked and threw himself in a corner.First he described his little experiences, for instance, that Bertuch had thrown him a blanket over the fence out of compassion or old friendship, or that he thought he had recognized one or other official in a passing carriage, or that a coachman would recognize him from time to time and jokingly flick him with his whip.Later he stopped telling us these things, he had obviously given up hope of accomplishing anything there, he merely considered it his duty, his dreary vocation, to go and spend the day there.That was when he started getting rheumatic pains, winter was coming, snow fell early, the winters here begin very early, anyhow he sat there, first on the rain-drenched stones, then in the snow.At night he gasped with pain, in the morning there were times when he wasn't sure whether he should go, but then he overcame his reluctance and went.Mother clung to him and did not want to let him go, so probably out of anxiety over his no longer compliant limbs he let her go with him, and then before long Mother too was racked with the same pains.We often went to see them, brought them food or simply visited them or tried to persuade them to return home, how often we found them there, slumped on their narrow seat, leaning on each other, crouched in a thin blanket that barely covered them, with only the gray of snow and mist for surroundings and no person or carriage anywhere about, what a sight, K.,what a sight!Until one morning Father could no longer get his stiff legs out of bed;he was inconsolable, in the delirium of a light fever he thought that he saw a carriage halt up at Bertuch's, an official get down, look for Father at the fence, shake his head angrily, and go back to the carriage.Meanwhile, Father let out screams as if he were determined to make the official up there notice him so that he could explain the blamelessness of his absence.And it turned into a long absence, he never went back, for weeks he had to remain in bed.Amalia took over all care, services, treatment, everything, and indeed, with a few breaks, she has kept it up to this day.She knows medicinal herbs that ease the pains, needs almost no sleep, is never startled, fears nothing, never becomes impatient, she did all the work for our parents;whereas we were unable to do anything to help and fluttered about uneasily, she remained cool and calm throughout.But when the worst was over and Father was able to work his way out of bed, carefully, supported on both sides, Amalia immediately withdrew and left him to us.”
