Frieda, who had listened carefully, stroked his arm slowly and said she fully agreed with him, though he had perhaps exaggerated the assistants’ misconduct, they were young lads, cheerful and somewhat simple-minded, serving a stranger for the first time, newly freed from the severity of Castle discipline, and therefore always a little excited and bewildered and in that state apt to get up to silly mischief, and though it was quite natural to get annoyed at this, the more sensible approach would be to laugh. There were times when she herself simply couldn’t keep from laughing. Still, she fully agreed with K. that it would be best to send them away and be all on their own here together. She drew closer to K. and hid her face on his shoulder. And in that position, speaking so incomprehensibly that K. had to bend down to her, she said that she knew of no measure that could be taken against the assistants and feared that everything K. had suggested would be futile. To the best of her knowledge, it was K. who requested them and now he had them and must keep them. It would be best to accept them lightheartedly as the lighthearted sort they were; that was the easiest way to put up with them.
K. was dissatisfied with this answer, half in jest and half seriously he said that she seemed to be in league with them or was at least very fond of them; well, they were handsome lads all right, but there was nobody who couldn’t somehow be got rid of, given a bit of good will, and he would demonstrate this to her with the assistants.
Frieda said she would be most grateful to him if he succeeded. Besides, from now on she wouldn’t laugh at them or speak to them, except when necessary. She no longer considered them funny; it wasn’t a trifling matter being constantly observed by two men, she had learned to see them through his eyes. And she really did recoil a little when the assistants got up again, partly to check the provisions, partly to investigate the constant whispering.
K. took advantage of this to turn Frieda against the assistants, he drew Frieda toward him and, seated close together, they finished the meal. It was certainly time for bed, and indeed everyone was tired, one of the assistants had even fallen asleep over his meal, much to the amusement of the other, who tried to persuade his masters to come and look at the silly face of the sleeping assistant, but to no avail; on the chairs above, K. and Frieda remained seated, dismissively. The cold having become increasingly unbearable, they were hesitant to go to bed, so in the end K. declared that they had to light the stove, otherwise they wouldn’t get any sleep. He looked around for an axe, the assistants knew of one and brought it over, they set off for the woodshed. In no time the light door was broken down; delighted, as if they had never before experienced anything so wonderful, chasing and pushing each other, they began to carry wood into the schoolroom, where there was soon a large pile, they lit the stove and everybody installed themselves around it, the assistants were given a blanket to wrap themselves in, that was adequate for them, since it had been agreed they would take turns staying awake to keep the stove going, soon it was so warm by the stove that the blankets were no longer required, the lamp was extinguished, and, pleased with the warmth and quiet, K. and Frieda stretched out to sleep.
Awakened at night by some noise, K. first groped about drowsily for Frieda before noticing that it was not Frieda who lay beside him but one of the assistants. No doubt because of his irritation on being suddenly awakened, this came as the greatest shock he had experienced in the village up to now. With a shout he half rose and, without stopping to think, struck the assistant so hard with his fist that he began to cry. But the matter was soon resolved. Frieda had also been awakened—at least this is how it seemed to her—when some large animal, possibly a cat, had jumped onto her chest and then immediately run off. She had risen and gone through the room, candle in hand, looking for the animal. The assistant had seized the chance to sample the pleasure afforded by the straw mattress, for which he was now paying a bitter price. Unable to find anything, perhaps it had all been an illusion, Frieda returned to K., but on the way, as though she had forgotten all about the conversation earlier that afternoon, she stroked the hair of the crouching, whimpering assistant in order to console him. K. didn’t say a word about this, he simply ordered the assistants to stop stoking the fire, since, with the expenditure of almost the entire pile of wood, the room was already much too hot.
Next morning none of them woke up until after the first schoolchildren had come and gathered eagerly around their bed. This was unpleasant, for, owing to the intense heat, which had in any case yielded to bitter cold toward morning, they had all stripped to their undershirts, and just as they were beginning to get dressed, Gisa, the schoolmistress, a tall blond beautiful, if rather stiff, girl, appeared in the doorway. She was clearly prepared to deal with the new janitor, having perhaps been briefed by the teacher, for, while still on the threshold, she said: “I simply cannot tolerate this. What a fine state of affairs that would be. You merely have permission to sleep in the schoolroom, I’m not obliged to teach in your bedroom. A janitor’s family lounging about in bed till late morning. Ugh!” Well, you could object to some of that, especially about the family and the beds, thought K., while he and Frieda—the assistants could not be used for this; lying on the floor, they were staring in wonder at the schoolmistress and the children—in great haste dragged over the parallel bars and the horse, threw the blankets on them, creating a little room where one could at least dress, shielded from the children’s stares. Still, there wasn’t a moment’s peace, the schoolmistress was already scolding him because there was no fresh water in the washbasin—K. had just been thinking of bringing over the washbasin for Frieda and himself, but he abandoned the thought for now, so as not to needlessly annoy the schoolmistress, but the sacrifice was futile, for just then there was a loud crash, unfortunately they had forgotten to clear the remnants of the evening meal from the teacher’s desk, the schoolmistress removed all of it with the ruler, everything was sent flying to the floor; and anyhow the schoolmistress didn’t have to worry about the spilled sardine oil and the coffee dregs and the smashed coffee pot, the janitor would of course tidy up right away. Not yet fully clothed, K. and Frieda leaned upon the parallel bars, watching the destruction of their few belongings; the assistants, who clearly hadn’t the slightest intention of getting dressed, peeped out through the blankets below, much to the children’s delight. Frieda was, of course, most upset by the loss of the coffee pot; only when K., in an effort to console her, assured her that he would go to the council chairman at once to demand and, what’s more, obtain compensation, did she compose herself sufficiently to run out of the enclosure, dressed only in a chemise and slip, so as to fetch the tablecloth and prevent its getting dirtier. She succeeded, even though the schoolmistress, in an effort to frighten her off, kept slamming the ruler down nerve-wrackingly on the table. After K. and Frieda put on their clothes, they found it necessary to prod the assistants, who seemed dazed by all this, to get dressed, ordering them, pushing them, and to some extent even dressing them themselves. Then when everybody was ready, K. assigned the next tasks; the assistants should get wood and light the stove, but first in the other schoolroom, where great danger lurked, for the teacher was probably already there, Frieda was to wash the floor while K. went for water and did a general tidying-up, there could be no thought of breakfast for now. K. wanted to be first outside, so as to ascertain the teacher’s mood; the others should follow when he called, he gave this order, on one hand, because he wanted to ensure that the stupid antics of the assistants didn’t make matters worse from the start and, on the other, because he wanted to spare Frieda as much as possible, for she had ambition, he had none, she was sensitive, he was not, her thoughts centered exclusively on the minor abominations of the present, his on Barnabas and the future. Frieda listened carefully to his instructions and barely took her eyes off him. No sooner had he stepped outside than the schoolmistress cried amid the children’s laughter, which from then on simply would not end: “Well, are you quite rested now?” and when, instead of answering, for this was hardly
a question, K. headed toward the wash stand, the schoolmistress asked: “But what have you done to my kitty?” A large heavy old cat lay sprawled lazily on the table, the schoolmistress was examining one of its paws, which was evidently slightly injured. So Frieda was right; this cat certainly hadn’t jumped on her, for she was surely no longer capable of jumping, though she had indeed crawled over her, and then, shocked to find people in the usually empty building, quickly hidden, injuring herself in her unaccustomed haste. K. tried to explain this calmly to the schoolmistress but, ignoring everything except the result, she said: “Yes, you certainly have injured her, what a marvelous way of introducing yourselves here! Look”; and calling K. to the teacher’s desk, she showed him the paw, and, before he knew what was happening, scratched the back of his hand with the claws; though the claws were already blunt, the schoolmistress, who no longer showed the slightest concern for the cat, pressed down so firmly that they nonetheless left bloody welts. “And now get back to work,” she said impatiently, bending over the cat again. Frieda, who had been watching from behind the parallel bars with the assistants, screamed at the sight of the blood. K. showed his hand to the children and said: “Look what an evil cunning cat has done.” He wasn’t saying this for the children, their screaming and laughter had already taken on such a life of its own that it needed no further motive or provocation and couldn’t be pierced or influenced in any way by words. But since the schoolmistress merely responded to the insult with a sidelong glance and for the rest remained intent on her cat, her initial fury evidently sated by the bloody punishment, K. called Frieda and the assistants, and they set to work.
After K. had taken out the bucket with the dirty water, brought in fresh water, and begun to sweep the schoolroom, a boy of about twelve stepped out from a bench, touched K.’s hand, and said something that was incomprehensible in the noise. Suddenly the noise ceased. K. turned around. His greatest fear all morning had come about. Standing in the doorway was the teacher; in each hand the little man held an assistant by the collar. He had probably caught them while they were getting wood, for in a powerful voice he shouted, pausing after each word: “Who dared to break into the woodshed? Tell me where the fellow is so I can tear him to bits.” Then Frieda got up from the floor, which she had been laboriously washing at the feet of the schoolmistress, looked at K., as if trying to summon strength, and then, with some of her former superiority in gaze and bearing, said: “I did it, Teacher. I could think of no other solution. The stoves in the schoolrooms had to be lit by morning, so someone had to open the shed, I didn’t dare go to get the key from your house at night, my fiancé was at the Gentlemen’s Inn and might conceivably have spent the night there, so I had to make the decision on my own. If what I did was wrong, excuse my inexperience, my fiancé gave me quite a scolding when he saw what had happened. He even forbade me to light the stoves earlier, for he thought you had indicated by locking the shed that you didn’t want the stoves lit before you came. So it’s his fault the stoves weren’t lit and mine the shed was broken into.” “Who broke open the door?” the teacher asked the assistants, who were still vainly attempting to shake off his grip. “The gentleman,” both said at once, and to exclude all doubt, they pointed at K. Laughing in a manner that seemed even more conclusive than her words, Frieda began to wring into the bucket the rag she had used to wash the floor, as if her explanation had terminated the matter and the assistants’ explanation were only a belated joke, she was already on her knees and about to begin work when she said: “Our assistants are still children who, despite their years, still belong on these school benches. For it was I who opened the door with the axe myself, it was very easy, I didn’t need the assistants, they would merely have been in the way. But then at night when my fiancé got back and went out to inspect and possibly repair the damage, the assistants ran after him, probably because they were afraid of being left here alone, they saw my fiancé working on the torn-off door, which is why they now say—well, they are children.” Yet the assistants shook their heads repeatedly during Frieda’s explanation, pointed again at K., and attempted through silent mimicry to get Frieda to change her mind, it was to no avail, though, and so they finally gave up, accepted Frieda’s words as an order, and on being asked again by the teacher, refused to answer. “Oh,” said the teacher, “so you lied? Or at least accused the janitor on frivolous grounds?” They remained silent, but their trembling, frightened glances appeared to suggest guilt. “Then I will give you a good beating this instant,” the teacher said, and sent a child to the other room for the cane. Then, as he raised the cane, Frieda cried: “The assistants were telling the truth,” and in desperation she threw the rag into the bucket with such force that the water splashed out, and ran behind the parallel bars, where she hid herself. “A pack of liars,” said the schoolmistress, who had finished bandaging the paw and took the creature onto her lap, for which it was almost too wide.
“So that leaves the janitor here,” said the teacher, pushing the assistants aside and turning to K., who had listened all along, resting on his broom: “This janitor, who out of sheer cowardice openly admits that others are being wrongly accused of his dirty tricks.” “Now,” said K., realizing that Frieda’s intervention had softened the teacher’s initially unrestrained outburst of anger, “I wouldn’t have been sorry if the assistants had received a little beating, they were let off scot-free on ten just occasions and can certainly atone for it on a single unjust one. But, Teacher, in other ways too I would have preferred to avoid an outright confrontation between us, and you might have preferred that, too. However, since Frieda has sacrificed me to the assistants”—here K. paused, Frieda’s sobs came from behind the blanket—“we must naturally straighten all this out.” “Outrageous,” said the schoolmistress. “I agree with you entirely, Miss Gisa,” said the teacher, “you, Janitor, are of course dismissed on the spot owing to this disgraceful dereliction of duty, I reserve the right to impose further punishment, but get out of this building now with all your things. For us this is truly a great relief, classes can finally begin. Quick now!” “I’m not moving,” said K., “you certainly are my superior, but not the person who granted me this position, that was the council chairman, and he’s the only one from whom I shall accept notification of dismissal. Now he hardly gave me this position so that I and these people of mine should freeze here but rather—as you yourself said—to prevent me from engaging in rash acts of despair. Letting me go now would be directly contrary to his intentions, and I refuse to believe it till I hear the opposite from his own lips. It is decidedly in your interest that I should refuse to accept such a frivolous dismissal.” “So you refuse?” asked the teacher. K. shook his head. “Think this over carefully,” said the teacher, “you don’t always make the wisest decisions, just recall, for instance, your refusal to submit to questioning yesterday afternoon.” “Why do you bring that up now?” asked K. “Because I’m so inclined,” said the teacher, “and I’m telling you this now for the last time: get out!” But since this had no effect, the teacher went to the desk and spoke softly to the schoolmistress; she said something about the police, but the teacher dismissed this, and they finally agreed on a solution; the teacher told the children to go to his classroom, where they would receive instruction with the other children, this diversion pleased all, the room emptied amid laughter and shouting, with the teacher and schoolmistress following behind. The schoolmistress carried the class register on which lay the amply proportioned and utterly indifferent cat. The teacher would have rather left the cat there, but the schoolmistress rejected a suggestion along those lines with a vehement allusion to K.’s cruelty; so on top of all the other irritations K. was now burdening the teacher with the cat. This surely left its mark on the last words spoken by the teacher, which he addressed to K. from the doorway: “The lady has no choice but to leave this room with the children, since you refuse in a refractory manner to accept my notification of dismissal, and since nobody can expect a young girl like her
to impart lessons amidst your filthy family setup. So you’ll stay here on your own, and since you’ll no longer have the revulsion of decent onlookers to contend with, you may stretch out as you please. But it won’t last long, I can guarantee that.” Then he slammed the door.