Chapter 5 five beaters

A few nights later, K. left the office and walked down the corridor toward the stairs—he was almost always the last to leave. Only the two clerks in the mail distribution continued their work in the dim light of a glowing lamp. .Suddenly he heard a moan coming from behind the door of a room.He had always thought this room was a waste storage room, although he had never opened the door to it.He stopped in surprise, and listened carefully to confirm that he had heard correctly: everything was quiet.However, not long after, the lament came out again.At first he thought of taking a mail-office clerk with him as a witness, but then, driven by an irresistible curiosity, he flung the door open.It was, as he had always thought, a waste storage room.Bundles of useless old newspapers and empty earthenware inkwells were piled haphazardly behind the door.Inside, however, there were three men standing, hunched over because of the low ceiling.A candle shimmered on the shelf. "What are you doing here?" asked K.; he asked quickly, excitedly, but not in a high voice.One of the three, who apparently held the other two under wraps, was wearing a dark leather coat with his neck, a large part of his chest and both arms exposed.He was the first of the three to see K., but did not react.Seeing K., the other two exclaimed: "Sir! We are going to be whipped, because you accused us before the examining magistrate." Only then did K. realize that they were Franz and Wilhelm, the two two guards; a third with birch sticks in his hands, ready to pat them down. "What's the matter?" K. looked at them in amazement. "I never accused anyone, I just told the truth about what happened in my house. Besides, there was nothing reproachable about your behavior there." "Mr. ’ said William, and Franz evidently wanted to get behind William’s back, so as to avoid the man, ‘you wouldn’t be so unkind to us if you knew our wages were pitifully low. I’ve got a family to support My son, Franz is going to marry a wife, and everyone can only show their talents. You can't get rich just by working hard, and you can't work day and night. Your beautiful pajamas were a temptation at the time, and we wanted to keep them for ourselves. Yes, but the guards are not allowed to do that kind of thing, it's not right to do that; but the clothes on the prisoners are the guards' side money, this practice has always been like this, it has formed a tradition, you can believe me, it is also understandable, For what good is his clothes to a hapless man in prison? But if he speaks out, the guards are sure to be punished." "I never knew that, I never asked you to be punished, I was just defending a principle." "Frantz," William said to another guard, "didn't I tell you that this gentleman never asked us to be punished? Now You heard it too, he didn't even know that we should be punished." "Don't believe what they say," a third pointed out to K. "Punishment is just and inevitable." "Don't listen to him." Yes," William said, and then stopped, for his hand had been lashed by the birch bar; and he brought it quickly to his mouth. "We were punished only because you accuse us; if you don't accuse us, nothing happens; and if they find out what we do, they can't do anything to us. Do you call that justice? Both of us, especially me, have been wardens for years and have been loyal, and that's on record - you should admit, honestly, we've guarded you well enough - and we've had every opportunity for promotion , will surely be promoted to thug soon, like this man; he is just lucky, because no one has brought charges against him; you know, charges of this type are really rare. It's over, sir, our prospects are ruined, and we'll have to do much lower jobs than wardens; besides, we're going to be beaten here now, and we'll die of pain." "That bunch of birch Can a birch stick hurt so much?" asked K., examining the birch stick the man was waving back and forth in front of him. "We've got to get naked first," William said. "Oh, I know," said K., taking a closer look at the goon; he was tanned like a sailor's, with a thick, muscular face. "Is there no way to save these two from being beaten?" K. asked the beater. "No way," the man said with a smile and shaking his head. "Take off your clothes," he ordered the two guards, and then said to K. "Don't believe what they say, they're so scared they're going to lose their minds. For example, this fellow," he pointed William, "it's all nonsense about possible promotions and all. See how fat he is, and the first few strokes of the birch sticks on him won't even leave a mark. Do you know why he's so fat? He Arrest anyone and eat his breakfast. Did he eat yours too? You see, I was right. A potbellied man like him would never make it to the thugs, that's for sure. Yes." "There are fat thugs like me," insisted William, undoing his belt. "Don't talk," said the thug, waving the birch sticks towards his neck, and he stepped back quickly. "You don't talk, and take off your clothes." "If you let them go, I will reward you very much." ’” said K., and without looking at the thug again—in this kind of thing, both sides have to keep their eyes open—he took out his wallet. "You probably plan to sue me in the future," said the thug, "and let me get beaten too? No, no!" "Think about it," said K., "if I wanted to punish these two , now would not pay to ask for their forgiveness. I could turn around, shut the door behind me, close my eyes, plug my ears, and go home; I knew at the time that they would be beaten or might be beaten, so I would never name them. Because I think they are innocent. It is the establishment that is guilty, and the senior officials are guilty." "Exactly, said the guards loudly, and they were immediately whipped on their naked backs. "If you were beating a senior judge," said K., snatching the whip from the beater, "I wouldn't let you stop, but would encourage you to do it by giving you another share of the money." Good thing." "What you said is very reasonable," said the thug, "but I refuse to accept bribes. I beat people here, and I have to beat them." The guard named Franz probably hoped that K.'s intervention would succeed. , so, at first he shrank back as much as possible, but now he came towards the door; in his trousers, as soon as he reached K., he dropped to his knees, took K. by the hand and whispered: "If you can't persuade him to forgive us both, , then you should think of a way, at least let him spare me. William is older than me, much more durable than me, and he has been beaten before, it was a few years ago, I have never been so lost To save face, and besides, I'm only following William, who is my master after all. My poor sweetheart is waiting for the results at the bank gate. I'm ashamed, I'm so sorry." He laid his face on K. on his coat, and wiped away the tears from his face. "I can't wait any longer," said the beater, and taking the birch whip with both hands, he gave Franz a slap, and William was so frightened that he hid in a corner and watched furtively, not daring to turn his head.Immediately from Franz's throat a shriek, shrill and hopeless, as though it had been made not by a human being but by some instrument of torture, echoed in the hallway and could probably be heard throughout the building. "Don't yell," said K. loudly; he stood there madly, looking in the direction from which the clerks might have heard the noise, and at the same time gave Franz a push; Enough to knock the half-conscious man to the ground.Franz twitched and scratched the floor with his hands, but even then he couldn't help being beaten.The spline whip lashed towards Franz who was lying on the ground, and the whip tip swung up and down regularly with the frequency of his rolling on the ground.A clerk had already appeared in the distance, and a few steps behind him, there was another one. K. hastily closed the door with a "hoo", went up to a nearby window, and opened it: there was a yard beneath it.The screaming stopped completely. To keep the clerks away, K shouted: "It's me." "Good night, sir," they replied, "what happened?" "Nothing, nothing," replied K., "there are A dog is barking, that's all." Since the clerks were still standing still, K. said again: "You can go back to work." Not wanting to talk to them, he leaned out of the window.After a while he glanced down the passage again and saw that they had gone.But he still stayed at the window, not daring to go back to the waste storage room, nor did he want to go home.His eyes looked under the window, which was a small square yard surrounded by offices, all the windows were now dark, only the top few panes reflected the faint light of the moon. K. stared blankly at a corner of the yard, which was dark and where a few carts were piled up in a haphazard manner.He was deeply disappointed that he had not been able to save the guards from being beaten.But it wasn't his fault that it didn't work out; if Franz didn't scream—it hurts, but he should control himself at such times—then probably K. would have found some other way to convince the thugs.If all the lower ranks of this establishment are bad guys, how can the goons who do the most inhumane job be any exceptions?What's more, K. clearly saw that his eyes rolled when he saw the banknote, and that he was threatening to obey the law was obviously only to raise the asking price. K. would not skimp on a few bucks, he was really anxious to get the two guards off; since he was going to wrestle with the entire corrupt judiciary, it was of course his duty to intervene in this matter.But as soon as Franz opened his mouth, K. could not intervene in any way: because the mail-office clerk and various other people would find him there, huddled with these fellows in the waste storage. in the chamber—they could not let them know that he was there, and no one could ask him to make such a sacrifice.If it really required him to make some kind of sacrifice, it would be easier for him to take off his clothes and be beaten instead of the guard.Of course the beater would not agree to K being beaten in place of the guards, that's for sure; he would gain nothing by doing so, and would instead be charged with serious negligence, because as the proceedings progressed, K would one day get rid of the low-ranking staff of the court. at the mercy of.Of course, normal standards do not apply here.In short, K. had nothing to do but close the door with a "squeak", but closing the door did not shut out all danger.Unfortunately, he ended up pushing Franz, who was agitated—that was his only excuse.

He heard the footsteps of the clerks continue in the distance; in order not to attract their attention, he closed the window and began to walk towards the landing.As he passed the door of the waste storage room, he stopped and listened for a while.The room was as still as a tomb.The thugs could do whatever they wanted with the two guards and probably beat them to death. K. stretched out his hand to turn the doorknob, but suddenly withdrew it again.It wouldn't help them this time, because the clerks could show up at any moment; but he was determined not to hide the matter, and to do everything possible to expose the real culprits--high officials who had hitherto been shy of showing their faces. them.He went down the steps outside the bank, keeping an eye out for all the passers-by; but even in the nearby streets he could not see a girl waiting for someone.Franz's nonsense, therefore, about the fact that his sweetheart was waiting for him was pure lying, but it was perfectly excusable, since he was only trying to gain some sympathy.

The next day K. was thinking about the two guards all day; he was absent-minded, missed his work, and had to stay in the office later than the day before in order to finish his work.When he came out of the office and passed the door of the waste storage room, he couldn't help himself and opened the door of the storage room.It wasn't as dark as he had expected, and he was completely confused by the sight in front of him.Everything was the same as it had been when he opened the door the previous evening.Bundles of old newspapers and inkwells were still piled up behind the door, and the beater with the birch whip and the two well-dressed guards were still standing there, and there was a burning lamp on the bookshelf. candles.As soon as the guards saw K., they shouted: "Sir!" Immediately K. closed the door again and punched the door a few more times to be sure that the door was securely closed.Almost crying, he ran to the staff, who were methodically busy at the duplicator.The staff looked up at him in surprise. "Get that junk room out, will you?" he cried. "It's suffocatingly dirty!" The clerks promised to clean it up the next day. K. nodded. He couldn't force them to do it right away because it was already late; that was his intention at first.He sat down for a while, wanting to keep these people company.He flipped through the copies, hoping to create an impression that he was checking work; later, he found that these people were afraid to leave the building with him, and they dragged their bodies and minds almost without thinking. .