The Castle (27 page)

"Did the Superintendent say that?" asked Olga.

"Yes, he did," replied K.

"I must tell Barnabas that," said Olga quickly, "that will encourage him greatly."

"But he doesn't need encouragement," said K., "to encourage him amounts to telling him that he's right, that he has only to go on as he is doing now, but that is just the way he will never achieve anything by. If a man has his eyes bound you can encourage him as much as you like to stare through the bandage, but he'll never see anything. He'll be able to see only when the bandage is removed. It's help Barnabas needs, not encouragement. Only think, up there you have all the inextricable complications of a great authority - I imagined that I had an approximate conception of its nature before I came here, but how childish my ideas were! - up there, then, you have the authorities and over against them Barnabas, nobody more, only Barnabas, pathetically alone, where it would be enough honour for him to spend his whole life cowering in a dark and forgotten corner of some bureau."

"Don't imagine, K., that we underestimate the difficulties Barnabas has to face," said Olga, "we have reverence enough for the authorities, you said so yourself."

"But it's a mistaken reverence," said K., "a reverence in the wrong place, the kind of reverence that dishonours its object. Do you call it reverence that leads Barnabas to abuse the privilege of admission to that room by spending his time there doing nothing, or makes him when he comes down again belittle and despise the men before whom he has just been trembling, or allows him because he's depressed or weary to put off delivering letters and fail in executing commissions entrusted to him? That's far from being reverence. But I have a further reproach to make, Olga. I must blame you too, I can't exempt you. Although you fancy you have some reverence for the authorities, you sent Barnabas into the Castle in all his youth and weakness and forlornness, or at least you didn't dissuade him from going."

"This reproach that you make," said Olga, "is one I have made myself from the beginning. Not indeed that I sent Barnabas to the Castle, I didn't send him, he went himself, but I ought to have prevented him by all the means in my power, by force, by craft, by persuasion. I ought to have prevented him, but if I had to decide again this very day, and if I were to feel as keenly as I did then and still do the straits Barnabas is in, and our whole family, and if Barnabas, fully conscious of the responsibility and danger ahead of him, were once more to free himself from me with a smile and set off, I wouldn't hold him back even to-day, in spite of all that has happened in between, and I believe that in my place you would do exactly the same. You don't know the plight we are in, that's why you're unfair to all of us, and especially to Barnabas. At that time we had more hope than now, but even then our hope wasn't great, but our plight was great, and is so still. Hasn't Frieda told you anything about us?"

"Mere hints," said K., "nothing definite, but the very mention of your name exasperates her."

"And has the landlady told you nothing either?"

"No, nothing."

"Nor anybody else?"

"Nobody."

"Of course. How could anybody tell you anything? Everyone knows something about us, either the truth, so far as it is accessible, or at least some exaggerated rumour, mostly invention, and everybody thinks about us more than need be, but nobody will actually speak about it, people are shy of putting these things into words. And they're quite right in that. It's difficult to speak of it even before you, K., and when you've heard it all it's possible - isn't it? - that you'll go away and not want to have anything more to do with us, however little it may seem to concern you. Then we should have lost you, and I confess that now you mean almost more to me than Barnabas's service in the Castle.

But yet - and this argument has been distracting me all the evening - you must be told, otherwise you would have no insight into our situation, and, what would vex me most of all, you would go on being unfair to Barnabas. Complete accord would fail between us, and you could neither help us, nor accept our additional help. But there is still one more question: Do you really want to be told?"

"Why do you ask?" said K., "if it's necessary, I would rather be told, but why do you ask me so particularly?" "Superstition," said Olga. "You'll become involved in our affairs, innocent as you are, almost as innocent as Barnabas."

"Tell me quickly," said K., "I'm not afraid. You're certainly making it much worse than it is with such womanish fussing."

Amaliàs secret

"Judge for yourself," said Olga, "I warn you it sounds quite simple, one can't comprehend at first why it should be of any importance. There's a great official in the Castle called Sortini."

"I've heard of him already" said K., "he had something to do with bringing me here."

"I don't think so," said Olga, "Sortini hardly ever comes into the open. Aren't you mistaking him for Sordini, spelt with a "d"?"

"You're quite right," said K., "Sordini it was."

"Yes," said Olga, "Sordini is well known, one of the most industrious of the officials, he's often mentioned. Sortini on the other hand is very retiring and quite unknown to most people. More than three years ago I saw him for the first and last time. It was on the third of July at a celebration given by the Fire Brigade, the Castle too had contributed to it and provided a new fire-engine. Sortini, who was supposed to have some hand in directing the affairs of the Fire Brigade, but perhaps he was only deputizing for someone else - the officials mostly hide behind each other like that, and so it's difficult to discover what any official is actually responsible for - Sortini took part in the ceremony of handing over the fire-engine. There were of course many other people from the Castle, officials and attendants, and true to his character Sortini kept well in the background. He's a small, frail, reflective-looking gentleman, and one thing about him struck all the people who noticed him at all, the way his forehead was furrowed. All the furrows - and there were plenty of them although he's certainly not more than forty -

were spread fanwise over his forehead, running towards the root of his nose. I've never seen anything like it.

Well then, we had that celebration. Amalia and I had been excited about it for weeks beforehand, our Sunday clothes had been done up for the occasion and were partly new, Amalia's dress was specially fine, a white blouse foaming high in front with one row of lace after the other, our mother had taken every bit of her lace for it. I was jealous, and cried half the night before the celebration. Only when the Bridge Inn landlady came to see us in the morning-"

"The Bridge Inn landlady?" asked K.

"Yes," said Olga, "she was a great friend of ours, well, she came and had to admit that Amalia was the finer, so to console me she lent me her own necklace of Bohemian garnets.

When we were ready to go and Amalia was standing beside me and we were all admiring her, my father said: "To-day, mark my words, Amalia will find a husband". Then, I don't know why, I took my necklace, my great pride, and hung it round Amalia's neck, and wasn't jealous any longer. I bowed before her triumph and I felt that everyone must bow before her, perhaps what amazed us so much was the difference in her appearance, for she wasn't really beautiful, but her sombre glance, and it has kept the same quality since that day, was high over our heads and involuntarily one had almost literally to bow before her.

Everybody remarked on it, even Lasemann and his wife who came to fetch us."

"Lasemann?" asked K.

"Yes, Lasemann," said Olga, "we were in high esteem, and the celebration couldn't well have begun without us, for my father was the third in command of the Fire Brigade."

"Was your father still so active?" asked K.

"Father?" returned Olga, as if she did not quite comprehend, "three years ago he was still relatively a young man, for instance, when a fire broke out at the Herrenhof he carried an official, Galater, who is a heavy man, out of the house on his back at a run.

I was there myself, there was no real danger, it was only some dry wood near a stove which had begun to smoke, but Galater was terrified and cried for help out of the window, and the Fire Brigade turned out, and father had to carry him out although the fire was already extinguished. Of course Galater finds it difficult to move and has to be careful in circumstances like that. I'm telling you this only on father's account. Not much more than three years have passed since then, and look at him now."

Only then did K. become aware that Amalia was again in the room, but she was a long way off at the table where her parents sat, she was feeding her mother who could not move her rheumaticky arms, and admonishing her father meanwhile to wait in patience for a little, it would soon be his turn. But her admonition was in vain, for her father, greedily desiring his soup, overcame his weakness and tried to drink it first out of the spoon and then out of the bowl, and grumbled angrily when neither attempt succeeded. The spoon was empty long before he got it to his lips, and his mouth never reached the soup, for his drooping moustache dipped into it and scattered it everywhere except into his mouth.

"And have three years done that to him?" asked K., yet he could not summon up any sympathy for the old people, and for that whole corner with the table in it he felt only repulsion.

"Three years," replied Olga slowly, "or, more precisely, a few hours at that celebration. The celebration was held on a the village, at the brook. There was already a large crowd there when we arrived, many people had come in from eighbouring villages, and the noise was bewildering. Of course my father took us first to look at the fire-engine, he laughed with delight when he saw it, the new fire-engine made him happy. He began to examine it and explain it to us, he wouldn't hear of any opposition or holding back, but made every one of us stoop and almost crawl under the engine if there was something there he had to show us, and he smacked Barnabas for refusing. Only Amalia paid no attention to the engine, she stood upright beside it in her fine clothes and nobody dared to say a word to her, I ran up to her sometimes and took her arm, but she said nothing.

Even to-day I cannot explain how we came to stand for so long in front of the fire-engine without noticing Sortini until the very moment my father turned away, for he had obviously been leaning on a wheel behind the fire-engine all the time. Of course there was a terrific racket all round us, not only the usual kind of noise, for the Castle had presented the Fire Brigade with some trumpets as well as the engine, extraordinary instruments on which with the smallest effort - a child could do it - one could produce the wildest blasts. To hear them was enough to make one think the Turks were there, and one could not get accustomed to them, every fresh blast made one jump.

And because the trumpets were new everybody wanted to try them, and because it was a celebration, everybody was allowed to try. Right at our ears, perhaps Amalia had attracted them, were some of these trumpet blowers. It was difficult to keep one's wits about one, and obeying fadier and attending to the fire-engine was the utmost we were capable of, and so it was that Sortini escaped our notice for such a long time, and besides we had no idea who he was.

"There is Sortini," Lasemann whispered at last to my father - I was beside him - and father, greatly excited, made a deep bow, and signed to us to do the same. Without having met till now father had always honoured Sortini as an authority in Fire Brigade matters, and had often spoken of him at home, so it was a very astonishing and important matter for us actually to see Sortini with our own eyes. Sortini, however, paid no attention to us, and in that he wasn't peculiar, for most of the officials hold themselves aloof in public besides he was tired, only his official duty kept him there. It', not the worst officials who find duties like that particularly try. And anyhow there were other officials and attendants mingling with the people. But he stayed by the fire-engine and discouraged by his silence all those who tried to approach him with some request or piece of flattery.

So it happened that he didn't notice us until long after we had noticed him. Only as we bowed respectfully and father was making apologies for us did he look our way and scan us one after another wearily, as if sighing to find that there was still another and another to look at, until he let his eyes rest on Amalia, to whom he had to look up, for she was much taller than he. At the sight of her he started and leapt over the shaft to get nearer to her, we misunderstood him at first and began to approach him, father leading the way, but he held us off with uplifted hand and then waved us away. That was all. We teased Amalia a lot about having really found a husband, and in our ignorance we were very merry the whole of that afternoon. But Amalia was more silent than usual.

"She's fallen head over ears in love with Sortini," said Brunswick, who is always rather vulgar and has no comprehension of natures like Amalia's. Yet this time we were inclined to think that he was right, we were quite mad all that day, and all of us, even Amalia, were as if stupefied by the sweet Castle wine when we came home about midnight."

"And Sortini?" asked K.

"Yes, Sortini," said Olga, "I saw him several times during the afternoon as I passed by, he was sitting on the engine shaft with his arms folded, and he stayed there till the Castle carriage came to fetch him. He didn't even go over to watch the fire-drill at which father, in the very hope that Sortini was watching, distinguished himself beyond all the other men of his age."

"And did you hear nothing more from him?" asked K. "You seem to have a great regard for Sortini."

"Oh, yes, regard," said Olga, "oh, yes, and hear from him we certainly did. Next morning we were roused from our heavy sleep by a scream from Amalia. The others rolled back into their beds again, but I was completely awake and ran to her. She was standing by the window holding a letter in her hand which had just been given her from the window by a man who was still waiting for an answer. The letter was short, and Amalia had already read it, add held it in her drooping hand. How I always loved her when she was tired like that I I knelt down beside her and read the letter. Hardly had I finished it when Amalia after a brief glance at me took it back, but she couldn't bring herself to read it again, and tearing it in pieces she threw the fragments in the face of the man outside and shut the window. That was the morning which decided our fate. I say