One of the girls behind the door started up again, and asked, «Titorelli, is he going to go soon?» «Quiet!» shouted the painter at the door, «Can’t you see I’m talking with the gentleman?» But this was not enough to satisfy the girl and she asked, «You going to paint his picture?» And when the painter didn’t answer she added, «Please don’t paint him, he’s an ‘orrible bloke.» There followed an incomprehensible, interwoven babble of shouts and replies and calls of agreement. The painter leapt over to the door, opened it very slightly—the girls’ clasped hands could be seen stretching through the crack as if they wanted something—and said, «If you’re not quiet I’ll throw you all down the stairs. Sit down here on the steps and be quiet.» They probably did not obey him immediately, so that he had to command, «Down on the steps!» Only then it became quiet.
«I’m sorry about that,» said the painter as he returned to K. K. had hardly turned towards the door, he had left it completely up to the painter whether and how he would place him under his protection if he wanted to. Even now, he made hardly any movement as the painter bent over him and, whispering into his ear in order not to be heard outside, said, «These girls belong to the court as well.» «How’s that?» asked K., as he leant his head to one side and looked at the painter. But the painter sat back down on his chair and, half in jest, half in explanation, «Well, everything belongs to the court.» «That is something I had never noticed until now,» said K. curtly, this general comment of the painter’s made his comment about the girls far less disturbing. Nonetheless, K. looked for a while at the door, behind which the girls were now sitting quietly on the steps. Except, that one of them had pushed a drinking straw through a crack between the planks and was moving it slowly up and down. «You still don’t seem to have much general idea of what the court’s about,» said the painter, who had stretched his legs wide apart and was tapping loudly on the floor with the tip of his foot. «But as you’re innocent you won’t need it anyway. I’ll get you out of this by myself.» «How do you intend to do that?» asked K. «You did say yourself not long ago that it’s quite impossible to go to the court with reasons and proofs.» «Only impossible for reasons and proofs you take to the court yourself,» said the painter, raising his forefinger as if K. had failed to notice a fine distinction. «It goes differently if you try to do something behind the public court, that’s to say in the consultation rooms, in the corridors or here, for instance, in my studio.» K. now began to find it far easier to believe what the painter was saying, or rather it was largely in agreement with what he had also been told by others. In fact it was even quite promising. If it really was so easy to influence the judges through personal contacts as the lawyer had said then the painter’s contacts with these vain judges was especially important, and at the very least should not be undervalued. And the painter would fit in very well in the circle of assistants that K. was slowly gathering around himself. He had been noted at the bank for his talent in organising, here, where he was placed entirely on his own resources, would be a good opportunity to test that talent to its limits. The painter observed the effect his explanation had had on K. and then, with a certain unease, said, «Does it not occur to you that the way I’m speaking is almost like a lawyer? It’s the incessant contact with the gentlemen of the court has that influence on me. I gain a lot by it, of course, but I lose a lot, artistically speaking.» «How did you first come into contact with the judges, then?» asked K., he wanted first to gain the painter’s trust before he took him into his service. «That was very easy,» said the painter, «I inherited these contacts. My father was court painter before me. It’s a position that’s always inherited. They can’t use new people for it, the rules governing how the various grades of officials are painted are so many and varied, and, above all, so secret that no-one outside of certain families even knows them. In the drawer there, for instance, I’ve got my father’s notes, which I don’t show to anyone. But you’re only able to paint judges if you know what they say. Although, even if I lost them no-one could ever dispute my position because of all the rules I just carry round in my head. All the judges want to be painted like the old, great judges were, and I’m the only one who can do that.» «You are to be envied,» said K., thinking of his position at the bank. «Your position is quite unassailable, then?» «Yes, quite unassailable,» said the painter, and he raised his shoulders in pride. «That’s how I can even afford to help some poor man facing trial now and then.» «And how do you do that?» asked K., as if the painter had not just described him as a poor man. The painter did not let himself be distracted, but said, «In your case, for instance, as you’re totally innocent, this is what I’ll do.» The repeated mention of K.’s innocence was becoming irksome to him. It sometimes seemed to him as if the painter was using these comments to make a favourable outcome to the trial a precondition for his help, which of course would make the help itself unnecessary. But despite these doubts K. forced himself not to interrupt the painter. He did not want to do without the painter’s help, that was what he had decided, and this help did not seem in any way less questionable than that of the lawyer. K. valued the painter’s help far more highly because it was offered in a way that was more harmless and open.
The painter had pulled his seat closer to the bed and continued in a subdued voice: «I forgot to ask you: what sort of acquittal is it you want. There are three possibilities: absolute acquittal, apparent acquittal and deferment. Absolute acquittal is the best, of course, only there’s nothing I could do to get that sort of outcome. I don’t think there’s anyone at all who could do anything to get an absolute acquittal. Probably the only thing that could do that is if the accused is innocent. As you are innocent it could actually be possible and you could depend on your innocence alone. In that case you won’t need me or any other kind of help.»
At first, K. was astonished at this orderly explanation, but then, just as quietly as the painter, he said, «I think you’re contradicting yourself.» «How’s that?» asked the painter patiently, leaning back with a smile. This smile made K. feel as if he were examining not the words of the painter but seeking out inconsistencies in the procedures of the court itself. Nonetheless, he continued unabashed and said, «You remarked earlier that the court cannot be
