Well, if he didn’t know of any such thing, and nothing had hap-pened, what did he want, then? What was there to forgive him? At most, the way that he was now pestering the offices to no good pur-pose, although that in itself was unforgivable. Our father did not desist, he was still a strong man then, and the idleness forced upon him left him plenty of time. ‘I will win Amalia’s honour back, it won’t be long now,’ he told Barnabas and me several times a day, but only very quietly, so that Amalia wasn’t able to hear it, even though it was said only for Amalia’s sake, for in fact he wasn’t so much con-cerned with winning back her honour as with being forgiven. But to be forgiven he must first establish his guilt, and that very thing was denied him in the offices. He began thinking—and this showed that his mind was already failing—that they were keeping his wrong-doing secret because he didn’t pay enough money. So far he had paid only the standard taxes, and they were high enough, at least for people in our position. But now he thought he ought to be paying more, which was certainly wrong, in our offices here they do take bribes, for the sake of a quiet life and to avoid unnecessary talk, but you never actually get anywhere that way. However, if that was what Father hoped we weren’t going to upset him. We sold what we still had—almost all of it was stuff we really couldn’t spare—to get our father the means for making his enquiries, and for a long time we had the satisfaction every morning of knowing that when he set off on his way at least he had a few coins in his pocket. We ourselves went hungry all day, because the only thing we could still do by getting money was to keep our father in a certain state of cheerful hope. This, however, was not much of an advantage. On his way he tormented himself, and a period that without the money would very soon have come to the end it deserved was dragged out at length like this.
As there was really nothing much to be achieved in return for the extra payments, sometimes a clerk would at least appear to be doing something, promising to make enquiries, indicating that certain clues had already been found, and they would be followed up not as a duty but just as a favour to Father. And instead of doubting it he became more and more credulous. He would bring one of these obviously empty promises home as if he were restoring every bless-ing to our household, and it was painful to see him trying to make us understand, always behind Amalia’s back, with a twisted smile and widened eyes, pointing at Amalia, that as a result of his efforts her salvation, which would surprise no one more than Amalia herself, was very close, but it was all still a secret and we mustn’t say a word. And so it would surely have gone on much longer, if in the end we had not been entirely unable to scrape up any more money for Father. It is true that by now, after many pleas, Brunswick had taken on Barnabas as an assistant, but only if he fetched the work to be done under cover of dark in the evening, and once it was done brought it back under cover of darkness too—it must be admitted that Brunswick was running a certain risk to his business for our sake, although in return he paid Barnabas very little, and Barnabas does flawless work—but his wages were only just enough to keep us from starving to death. With great consideration for our father, and after preparing him for it in all sorts of ways, we broke it to him that we could no longer support him financially, but he took it very calmly. His mind was now unable to see how hopeless his efforts were, but he was worn out all the same by the constant disappoint-ments. He did say—and he no longer spoke as clearly as before, but this he said almost too distinctly—that he would have needed only a very little more money, he’d been going to find out everything today or tomorrow, and now it was all in vain, we had failed only because of the money, and so on and so forth, but the tone in which he said it showed that he didn’t really believe it himself. And now he was immediately, all of a sudden, making new plans. As he had not suc-ceeded in proving that he was guilty of anything, and as a result could not achieve anything in the official line, he must turn exclu-sively to pleading and approach the officials in person. There must be some among them who had kind and sympathetic hearts, to which of course they could not give way in their work, but perhaps they might show kindness outside office hours, if taken by surprise at the right moment.’
Here K., who had so far been listening to Olga deep in thought, interrupted her story by asking: ‘And you don’t think that was right?’ Of course the rest of the story would give him the answer, but he wanted to know it at once.
‘No,’ said Olga, ‘there can be no question of sympathy or anything of the kind. Young and inexperienced as we were, we knew that, and so did our father, of course, but he had forgotten it just as he had forgotten almost everything. His plan was to stand on the road close to the castle, where the officials’ carriages drive by, and somehow or other present his petition for forgiveness there. To be honest, it made no sense at all, even if the impossible had happened and his plea really had come to the ear of some official. Can a single official forgive anyone? At the most, it must be a matter for the authorities as a whole, but even the authorities as a whole probably can’t forgive, they can only judge. But could an official form an idea of the case anyway from what our father, that poor, tired, ageing man, would mutter to him, even if he were to get out of the carriage and put his mind to the matter? The officials are very well educated, but only in a one-sided way; in his own department, an official will see a whole train of ideas behind a single word, but you can spend hours on end explaining matters from another department to him, and while he may nod politely he doesn’t understand a bit of it. Of course that’s all perfectly natural, you just have to think of the little official matters affecting yourself, tiny things that an official will deal with merely by shrugging his shoulders, you just have to understand that thor-oughly, and then you will have plenty to occupy your mind all your life and never run out of ideas. But even if our father had reached an official responsible for our case, that official could have done nothing without the back files, particularly not on the road, he couldn’t for-give anything, he could only act as an official, and to that end he would merely point out the official channels, but our father had already failed entirely to achieve anything by going through those channels. How far gone Father must have been to think that he could get anywhere with this new plan!
If any opportunity of that kind had been even remotely possible, the road there by the castle would be swarming with petitioners, but since it’s impossible, as the most elementary education will show, there’s not a soul on the road. Perhaps that encouraged our father in his hopes, for which he drew nourishment from everywhere and anywhere. And he needed that very much now; a sound mind must not let itself in for such lofty considerations, it must clearly recognize impossibility in the most superficial aspects of the matter. When the officials drive to the village or back to the castle, they are not going on a pleasure excursion, there is work waiting for them both in the village and at the castle, that’s why they drive so fast. Nor does it occur to them to look out of the carriage window in search of petitioners standing outside, because anyway their carriages are crammed full of files which they study as they are driven along.’
‘Oh,’ said K., ‘but I’ve seen the inside of an official sleigh that had no
