The Castle (21 page)

"I knew nothing of all this," said K., "it was only a vague suspicion of it that made me send them away. But now they're gone, and perhaps everything will be all right."

"Yes, they're gone at last," said Frieda, but her face was worried, not happy, "only we don't know who they are. Messengers of Klamm's I call them in my mind, though not seriously, but perhaps they are really that. Their eyes - those ingenuous and yet flashing eyes - remind me somehow of Klamm's. Yes, that's it, it's Klamm's glance that sometimes runs through me from their eyes. And so it's not true when I say that I'm ashamed for them. I only wish it were. I know quite well that anywhere else and in anyone else their behaviour would seem stupid and offensive, but in them it isn't. I watch their stupid tricks with respect and admiration. But if they're Klamm's messengers who'll rid us of them? And besides would it be a good thing to be rid of them? Wouldn't you have to fetch them back at once in that case and be happy if they were still willing to come?"

"You want me to bring them back again?" asked K.

"No, no!" said Frieda, "it's the last thing I desire. The sight of them, if they were to rush in here now, their joy at seeing me again, the way they would hop round like children and stretch out their arms to me like men. No, I don't I would be able to stand that. But all the same when I that if you keep on hardening your heart to them, it keep you, perhaps, from ever getting admittance to Klamm, I want to save you by any means at all from such consequences. In that case my only wish is for you to let them in. In that case let them in now at once. Don't bother about me. What do I matter? I'll defend myself as long as I can, but if I have to surrender, then I'll surrender with the consciousness that that, too, is for your sake."

"You only strengthen me in my decision about the assistants," said K. "Never will they come in with my will. The fact that I've got them out of this proves at least that in certain circumstances they can be managed, and therefore, in addition, that they have no real connexion with Klamm. Only last night I received a letter from Klamm from which it was clear that Klamm was quite falsely informed about the assistants, from which again one can only draw the conclusion that he is completely indifferent to them, for if that were not so he would certainly have obtained exact information about them. And the fact that you see Klamm in them proves nothing, for you're still, unfortunately, under the landlady's influence and see Klamm everywhere. You're still Klamm's sweetheart, and not my wife yet by a long chalk. Sometimes that makes me quite dejected, I feel then as if I had lost everything, I feel as if I had only newly come to the village, yet not full of hope, as I actually came, but with the knowledge that only disappointments await me, and that I will have to swallow them down one after another to the very dregs. But that is only sometimes," K. added smiling, when he saw Frieda's dejection at hearing his words,

"and at bottom it merely proves one good thing, that is, how much you mean to me. And if you order me now to choose between you and the assistants, that's enough to decide the assistants' fate. What an idea, to choose between you and the assistants! But now I want to be rid of them finally, in word and thought as well. Besides who knows whether the weakness that has come over us both mayn't be due to the fact that we haven't had breakfast yet?"

"That's possible," said Frieda, smiling wearily and going about her work.

K., too, grasped the broom again. After a while there was a soft rap at the door.

"Barnabas!" cried K., throwing down the broom, and with a few steps he was at the door.

Frieda stared at him, more terrified at the man than anything else. With his trembling hands K.. could not turn the old lock immediately.

"Ìll open in a minute," he kept on repeating instead of asking who was actually there.

And then he had to face the fact that through the wide-open door came not Barnabas, but the little boy who had tried to speak to him before. But K. had no wish to be reminded of him.

"What do you want here?" he asked. "The classes are being taught next door."

"I've come from there," replied the boy, looking up at K. quietly with his great brown eyes, and standing at attention, with his arms by his side.

"What do you want then? Out with it I" said K., bending a little forward, for the boy spoke in a low voice.

"Can I help you?" asked the boy.

"He wants to help us" said K. to Frieda, and then to the boy: "What's your name?"

"Hans Brunswick," replied the boy, "fourth standard, son of Otto Brunswick, master cobbler in Madeleinegasse."

"I see, your name is Brunswick," said K., now in a kinder tone.

It came out that Hans had been so indignant at seeing the bloody weals which the lady teacher had raised on K.'s hand, that he had resolved at once to stand by K. He had boldly slipped away just now from the classroom next door at the risk of severe punishment, somewhat as a deserter goes over to the enemy. It may indeed have been chiefly some such boyish fancy that had impelled him. The seriousness which he evinced in everything he did seemed to indicate it. Shyness held him back at the beginning, but he soon got used to K. and Frieda, and when he was given a cup of good hot coffee he became lively and confidential and began to question them eagerly and insistently, as if he wanted to know the gist of the matter as quickly as possible, to enable him to come to an independent decision about what they should do. There was something imperious in his character, but it was so mingled with childish innocence that they submitted to it without resistance, half-smilingly, half in earnest. In any case he demanded all their attention for himself. Work completely stopped, the breakfast lingered on unconscionably.

Although Hans was sitting at one of the scholars' desks and K. in a chair on the dais with Frieda beside him, it looked as if Hans were the teacher, and as if he were examining them and passing judgement on their answers. A faint smile round his soft mouth seemed to indicate that he knew quite well that all this was only a game, but that made him only the more serious in conducting it. Perhaps, too, it was not really a smile but the happiness of childhood that played round his lips. Strangely enough he only admitted quite late in the conversation that he had known K. ever since his visit to Lasemann's.

K. was delighted.

"You were playing at the lady's feet?" asked K.

"Yes," replied Hans, "that was my mother."

And now he had to tell about his mother, but he did so hesitatingly and only after being repeatedly asked. And it was clear now that he was only a child, out of whose mouth, it is true - especially in his questions - sometimes the voice of an energetic, far-seeing man seemed to speak. But then all at once, without transition, he was only a schoolboy again who did not understand many of the questions, misconstrued others, and in childish inconsiderateness spoke too low, although he had the fault repeatedly pointed out to him, and out of stubbornness silently refused to answer some of the other questions at all, quite without embarrassment, however, as a grown-up would have been incapable of doing. He seemed to feel that he alone had the right to ask questions, and that by the questions of Frieda and K. some regulation were broken and time wasted. That made him sit silent for a long time, his body erect, his head bent, his underlip pushed out. Frieda was so charmed by his expression at these moments that she sometimes put questions to him in the hope that they would evoke it. And she succeeded several times, but K. was only annoyed. All that they found out did not amount to much. Hans's mother was slightly unwell, but what her illness was remained indefinite. The child which she had had in her lap was Hans's sister and was called Frieda (Hans was not pleased by the fact that her name was the same as the lady's who was questioning him), the family lived in the village, but not with Lasemann - they had only been there on a visit and to be bathed, seeing that Lasemann had the big tub in which the younger children, to whom Hans didn't belong, loved to bathe and splash about. Of his father Hans spoke now with respect, now with fear, but only when his mother was not occupying the conversation.

Compared with his mother his father evidently was ...Of little account, but all their questions about Brunswick's family life remained, in spite of their efforts, unanswered.

K. learned that the father had the biggest shoemaker's business in the place, nobody could compete with him, a fact which quite remote questions brought again and again. He actually gave out work to the other shoemakers, for example to Barnabas's father. In this last case he had done it of course as a special favour - at least Hans's proud toss of the head seemed to hint at this, a gesture which made Frieda run over and give him a kiss. The question whether he had been in the Castle yet he only answered after it had been repeated several times, and with a "No." The same question regarding his mother he did not answer at all. At last K. grew tired. To him, too, these questions seemed useless, he admitted that the boy was right. Besides there was something humiliating in ferreting out family secrets by taking advantage of a child. Doubly humiliating, however, was the fact that in spite of his efforts he had learned nothing. And when to finish the matter he asked the boy what was the help he wanted to offer, he was no longer surprised to hear that Hans had only wanted to help with the work in the school, so that the teacher and his assistant might not scold K. so much. K. explained to Hans that help of that kind was not needed, scolding was part of the teacher's nature and one could scarcely hope to avoid it even by the greatest diligence, the work itself was not hard, and only because of special circumstances had it been so far behind that morning, besides scolding hadn't the same effect on K. as on a scholar, he shook it off, it was almost a matter of indifference to him, he hoped, too, to get quite clear of the teacher soon.

Though Hans had only wanted to help him in dealing with the teacher, however, he thanked him sincerely, but now Hans had better return to his class, with luck he would not be punished if he went back at once. Although K. did not emphasize and only involuntarily suggested that it was simply help in dealing with the teacher which he did not require, leaving the question of other kinds of help open, Hans caught the suggestion clearly and asked whether perhaps K. needed any other assistance. He would be very glad to help him, and if he were not in a position to help him himself, he would ask his mother to do so, and then it would be sure to be all right. When his father had difficulties, he, too, asked Hans's mother for help. And his mother had already asked once about K., she herself hardly ever left the house, it had been a great exception for her to be at Lasemann's that day. But he, Hans, often went there to play with Lasemann's children, and his mother had once asked him whether the Land Surveyor had ever happened to be there again. Only his mother wasn't supposed to talk too much, seeing she was so weak and tired, and so he had simply replied that he hadn't seen the Land Surveyor there, and nothing more had been said. But when he had found K. here in the school, he had had to speak to him, so that he might tell his mother the news. For that was what pleased his mother most, when without her express command one did what she wanted. After a short pause for reflection K. said that he did not need any help, he had all that he required, but it was very good of Hans to want to help him, and he thanked him for his good intentions. It was possible that later he might be in need of something and then he would turn to Hans, he had his address. In return perhaps he, K., might be able to offer a little help. He was sorry to hear that Hans's mother was ill and that apparently nobody in the village understood her illness. If it was neglected like that a trifling malady might sometimes lead to grave consequences. Now he, K., had some medical knowledge, and, what was of still more value, experience in treating sick people. Many a case which the doctors had given up he had been able to cure. At home they had called him "The Bitter Herb" on account of his healing powers. In any case he would be glad to see Hans's mother and speak with her.

Perhaps he might be able to give her good advice, for if only for Hans's sake he would be delighted to do it. At first Hans's eyes lit up at this offer, exciting K. to greater urgency, but the outcome was unsatisfactory, for to several questions Hans replied, without showing the slightest trace of regret, that no stranger was allowed to visit his mother, she had to be guarded so carefully. Although that day K. had scarcely spoken to her she had had to stay for several days in bed, a thing indeed that often happened. But his father had then been very angry with K. and he would certainly never K. to come to the house. He had actually wanted to seek out at the time to punish him for his impudence, only Hans's Bother had held him back. But in any case his mother never wanted to talk with anybody whatever, and her inquiry about K. was no exception to the rule. On the contrary, seeing he had been, mentioned, she could have expressed the wish to see him, but she hadn't done so, and in that had clearly made known her will. She only wanted to hear about K. but she did not want to speak to him. Besides it wasn't any real illness that she was suffering from, she knew quite well the cause of her state and often had actually indicated it.

Apparently it was the climate here that she could not stand, but all the same she would not leave the place, on account of her husband and children, besides, she was already better in health than she used to be. Here K. felt Hans's powers of thought visibly increasing in his attempt to protect his mother from K., from K. whom he had ostensibly wanted to help. Yes, in the good cause of keeping K. away from his mother he even contradicted in several respects what he had said before, particularly in regard to his mother's illness. Nevertheless K. remarked that even so Hans was still well disposed towards him, only when his mother was in question he forgot everything else. Whoever was set up beside his mother was immediately at a disadvantage. Just now it had been K., but it could as well be his father, for example. K. wanted to test this supposition and said that it was certainly thoughtful of Hans's father to shield his mother from any disturbance, and if he, K., had only guessed that day at this state of things, he would never have thought of venturing to speak to her, and he asked Hans to make his apologies to her now.