It was only now that K. noticed how quiet it had become in the.corridor， not only here in this part of the corridor， where he had been with Frieda and which seemed to belong to the public rooms，but also in the long corridor with the guest rooms that had been so animated earlier.So the gentlemen had finally fallen asleep.K.，too， was very weary， perhaps it was out of weariness that he hadn't defended himself as much against Jeremias as he ought to have done.It might have been wiser to take a cue from Jeremias， who was clearly exaggerating his cold—his misery was not due to his cold but was innate in him and could not be chased away by any medicinal tea—and to make just as much of a show of one's truly great weariness， sinking down here in the corridor， which would already do some good， dozing off a bit and then maybe even getting taken care of a little.Except the result wouldn't have been as favorable as for Jeremias， who would certainly， and no doubt rightly， have been victorious in this competition for sympathy， and obviously in every other battle as well.K.was so weary that he thought of going into one of these rooms， some of which were certainly empty， and having a good sleep in a nice bed.This would， in his opinion， have compensated for a good deal.There was even a nightcap handy.On the tray that Frieda had left lying on the floor there had been a small carafe of rum.K.did not recoil from the effort of going hack， and he emptied the little bottle.
He now felt at least strong enough to appear before Erlanger. He looked for Erlanger's door， but since there was no longer any trace of the servant or of Gerst？cker and all of the doors were identical， he was unable to find it.Yet he thought he recalled the spot in the corridor where the door had been， and decided to open the door that he considered most likely to be the one he sought.This experiment couldn't possibly prove all that dangerous；if it was Erlanger's room， then he would surely receive him， if it was someone else's， then he could still excuse himself and leave， and if the guest was sleeping， which was most likely， then K.'s visit wouldn't even be noticed， it would be unfortunate only if the room was empty， for then K.would scarcely be able to resist the temptation to lie down in bed and sleep endlessly.Again he looked right and left in the corridor to see whether anybody was coming who could give him information and make it unnecessary to take such a risk， but the long corridor was silent and empty.Then K.listened at the door， there was not a sound here either.He knocked so softly that the sound couldn't have woken up anyone who was asleep， and since there was no response even then， he opened the door with extreme caution.But he was now greeted by a low cry.It was a small room， more than half of it occupied by a wide bed， the electric lamp on the night table was still on， next to it was a travel bag.Lying in bed but completely hidden under the blanket， someone was stirring uneasily and whispering through an opening between the blanket and sheet：“Who is it？”K.couldn't leave that easily now；disgruntled， he gazed at the sumptuous but unfortunately not empty bed， remembered the question， and gave his name.That seemed to have a positive effect， the man in bed pushed the blanket off his face a little， but fearfully， prepared to cover himself immediately again if everything wasn't quite right outside.But then without hesitation he threw off the blanket and sat up.It certainly was not Erlanger.It was a short， good-looking gentleman， with a somewhat contradictory face， the cheeks round and childlike， the eyes cheerful and childlike， yet the high forehead， the pointed nose， and the narrow mouth with its barely closed lips and almost vanishing chin were by no means childlike but revealed a superior mind.It was probably his satisfaction with that， his satisfaction with himself， that had preserved a powerful remnant of healthy childlikeness in him.“Do you know Friedrich？”he asked.K.said no.“But he knows you，”the gentleman said， smiling.K.nodded， there was no shortage of people who knew him， and this was even one of the main obstacles in his way.“I'm his secretary，”said the gentleman，“my name is Bürgel.”“Excuse me，”said K.，reaching for the door handle，“unfortunately I mistook your door for another one.I was actually summoned to Secretary Erlanger's.”“What a pity！”said Bürgel.“Not that you've been summoned elsewhere but that you mistook the doors.You see， once I've been awakened， I certainly will not fall asleep again.Well， this shouldn't make you so gloomy， it is my personal misfortune.Why can't these doors be locked， isn't that it？Of course there is a reason for that.Because， according to an old saying， the doors of the secretaries should be open at all times.But there is no need to take that literally.”Bürgel gave K.a quizzical， cheerful look；contrary to his complaint he seemed perfectly well rested；as tired as K.was now， Bürgel had probably never been.“So where do you want to go now？”asked Bürgel.“It's four o'clock.You would have to wake up anybody you wanted to see， not all are so used to disturbances as I am， not all will take it so patiently， the secretaries are a nervous bunch.So stay a while.At about five o'clock the people here start getting up， you will be best able to comply with your summons at that time.And please finally let go of that handle and take a seat somewhere， it's certainly cramped here， it would be best if you sat here on the edge of the bed.You're surprised that I haven't a chair or table here？Well， I had a choice—either a complete set of furniture with a narrow hotel bed， or this large bed with nothing but the washstand.I chose the large bed， for， after all， the main thing in a bedroom surely is the bed.Oh， for anyone who could stretch out and sleep soundly， for any sound sleeper， this bed would be truly delicious.But even for someone like myself， who is always tired but cannot sleep， it does some good， I spend a large part of the day in it， dispatching all my correspondence and questioning the parties.This works quite well.True， the parties have nowhere to sit， but that is something they get over since it's certainly more pleasant for them as well when they stand and the deposition taker feels good than when they sit there comfortably and get shouted at.So all I have to give away is this place on the edge of the bed， but it is not an official seat and is meant only for nighttime discussions.But you're so silent， Surveyor.”“I'm very tired，”said K.，who， on hearing the invitation， had immediately sat down rudely and disrespectfully on the bed and had leaned against the post.“Of course，”said Bürgel， laughing，“everyone is tired here.The work I did yesterday or even today， for instance， certainly wasn't insignificant.And now there's absolutely no possibility of my falling asleep， but even if that most unlikely event happened and I should fall asleep while you're still here， please remain still and do not open the door.But have no fear， I shall certainly not fall asleep， or at best only for a few minutes.Probably because I am so used to holding office hours， I find it easiest to fall asleep in company.”“Go to sleep， please， Secretary，”said K.，delighted with this announcement，“then with your permission I too shall sleep a little.”“No， no，”Bürgel laughed again，“unfortunately I cannot fall asleep simply upon request， such opportunities can arise only during a conversation， a conversation is the likeliest means of putting me to sleep.Yes indeed， this business affects our nerves.Take me， for instance， I am a connecting secretary.You don't know what that is？Well， I'm the strongest connection”—just then he rubbed his hands quickly in unintentional mirth—“between Friedrich and the village， I'm the connection between his Castle and village secretaries and am stationed in the village， though not permanently；at any moment I must be prepared to journey to the Castle， you see the travel bag， it is an unsettled life， not suitable for everyone.Still， it's true that I couldn't manage without this kind of work， I would find every other kind of work shallow.Now what is the situation concerning the land surveying？”“I'm not doing that kind of work， I'm not employed as a land surveyor，”said K.，who paid little heed since he was dying for Bürgel to fall asleep， but this too was simply out of a certain sense of obligation toward himself， for deep within he thought he knew that the instant when Bürgel would fall asleep was still unforeseeably distant.“That's astonishing，”said Bürgel， tossing his head vigorously and pulling a pad from under the blanket to jot down something，“you are a surveyor， but you have no surveying work.”K.nodded mechanically， he had stretched out his left arm on the bedpost and had leaned his head on it；he had already tried various ways of making himself comfortable but this was the most comfortable position of them all， and now he could also pay a little bit better attention to what Bürgel was saying.“I'm willing，”Bürgel went on，“to pursue the matter further.After all， the situation here certainly isn't such that we can afford to let a skilled employee go idle.And it must also be hurtful for you， aren't you suffering from it？”“Yes， I am suffering from it，”said K.slowly， smiling to himself， for right now he was not suffering from it at all.Besides， Bürgel's offer made little impression on him.It was really quite amateurish.Without knowing anything about the circumstances attending the summoning of K.，the difficulties it had encountered in the community and at the Castle， about the complications that had already arisen during K.'s stay here or that were in the offing—without knowing anything about all this， without even showing that he had an inkling of it， which was the least one could expect of a secretary， he offered without further ado， simply with the help of his little notepad， to resolve the matter.“You do seem to have had a few disappointments，”Bürgel then said， however， showing again that he actually did have a certain understanding of people， and indeed， ever since stepping into the room， K.had told himself several times not to underestimate Bürgel， but in his present state it was hard to be a fair judge of anything other than his own weariness.“No，”said Bürgel， as if he were responding to a thought of K.'s and out of consideration wanted to save him the trouble of formulating it，“you shouldn't let those disappointments frighten you off.Here some things seem to be arranged in such a way as to frighten people off， and when one is new to the place those obstacles seem absolutely impenetrable.I don't want to get into the question of the true state of affairs， the illusion may actually correspond to reality， in my position I lack the distance that is necessary to establish that， but listen carefully to what I am saying， sometimes opportunities do arise that aren't altogether in keeping with the situation in general， opportunities through which more can be achieved with a word， with a glance， with a sign of trust， than with a lifetime of grueling effort.That is undoubtedly so.But then again these opportunities are actually in keeping with the situation in general inasmuch as nobody ever takes advantage of them.Now why does nobody ever take advantage of them， that's the very question I keep asking myself.”K.had no idea；he did notice that the matters Bürgel was speaking about probably affected him greatly， but just now he very much disliked everything that affected him；he turned his head sideways a little， as if he were making way for Bürgel's questions and could no longer be touched by them.“There is，”Bürgel went on， stretching his arms out and yawning， which was in confusing contradiction to the gravity of his words，“there is constant complaining from the secretaries that they are forced to conduct most village interrogations at night.But why do they complain about that？Because it's too much of a strain on them？Because they would rather use the night for sleeping？No， they certainly don't complain about that.Among the secretaries there are of course some who are diligent and others who are less so， just like everywhere else， but none of them ever complain about having to work too hard， especially not in public.That is simply not our style.In that respect we don't acknowledge any distinction between ordinary time and work time.Such distinctions are alien to us.Why then do the secretaries object to the nighttime interrogations？Perhaps it is even out of consideration for the parties？No， no， it isn't that either.The secretaries are always inconsiderate toward the parties， though not a bit more inconsiderate than they are toward themselves， but just as inconsiderate.This inconsiderateness， or in other words this iron-clad pursuit and performance of duty， is the greatest consideration that the parties could possibly desire.On the whole this is—though the superficial observer does not notice it—fully acknowledged；in this case， for instance， it is precisely the nighttime interrogations that are so welcome to the parties， no fundamental complaints about the nighttime interrogations have been received.So why then do the secretaries dislike them？”K.didn't know this either， he knew so little， he couldn't even determine whether Bürgel was serious or was only ostensibly demanding an answer，“If you let me lie on your bed，”he thought，“I shall answer all your questions at noon tomorrow or， better still， in the evening.”But Bürgel didn't seem to be paying attention to him， so excessively preoccupied was he with the question that he himself had raised：“As far as I can judge and as far as I myself have been able to establish， the secretaries have roughly the following concerns with regard to nighttime interrogations.Nights are not a suitable time for holding proceedings with the parties， for at night it is difficult or downright impossible to preserve the official character of the proceedings in full.That is not because of external factors， the formalities can of course be observed just as strictly by night as by day.So it isn't that；nevertheless， the capacity for making official judgments does suffer at night.At night one involuntarily inclines to judge matters from a more private point of view， the presentations of the parties are given more weight than should be the case， entirely irrelevant considerations about the parties'circumstances in other respects， their sorrows and their fears， interfere with the judgment， the necessary barrier between parties and officials， even if outwardly still intact， begins to crumble， and in places where usually， as should happen， there were only questions and answers going back and forth， the persons involved switched places in a strange and absolutely inappropriate manner.At least that is what the secretaries say， in other words， those people who， owing to their profession， are endowed with an altogether extraordinary sensibility in such matters.But even they themselves—and this is something we have often talked about in our circles—barely notice those detrimental effects during the nighttime interrogations；on the contrary， from the very beginning they go to great lengths to fight against that and they end up thinking that they have done especially good work.But later， on reading the depositions， one is often amazed at the glaring weaknesses that come to light.And these are errors， even half-unjustified gains secured over and over again by the parties， and they can no longer be made good， or at least not as specified in our regulations， in the usual speedy manner.Of course， a control agency will correct these errors， but this will only be for the sake of justice， since it is no longer possible to do that particular party any harm.Now， under such circumstances aren't the complaints of the secretaries quite justified？”For some time K.had been half-dozing， hut now he was roused again：“What's the point of all this？What's the point of all this？”he asked himself， and from under his drooping eyelids he viewed Bürgel not as an official who was discussing difficult matters with him hut merely as something that was keeping him from his sleep， and whose further significance couldn't be determined.But Bürgel， completely absorbed in his train of thought， smiled as though he had just managed to mislead K.somewhat.But he was prepared to put him back on the right track at once.“Well，”he said，“one cannot simply say that these complaints are entirely justified.True， the nighttime interrogations are not expressly forbidden anywhere， and one isn't violating any regulation if one tries to avoid them， but the conditions， the overabundant work， the manner in which the officials are employed at the Castle， their indispensability， the regulation that no interrogations of the parties should be held until the rest of the investigation has been fully concluded， but then right away， all this and many other things have turned the nighttime interrogations into an unavoidable necessity.But if they have actually become a necessity， then—I would say—that is still， indirectly at any‘rate， a result of the regulations， and to carp at the nature of the nighttime interrogations would almost mean—I am naturally exaggerating a little and can therefore allow myself， simply as an exaggeration， to make the following remark—that would almost mean to carp at the regulations.On the other hand， the secretaries should be allowed to protect themselves as best they can within the framework of the regulations against the nighttime interrogations and their perhaps merely apparent drawbacks.They certainly go about this very thoroughly， permitting interrogations only on subjects that pose the least possible threat in that regard， examining themselves before the proceedings and， if the results of that examination make it necessary， canceling all interrogations even at the last minute， fortifying themselves often by summoning a party at least ten times before actually interrogating him， choosing to have themselves represented by colleagues whose jurisdiction doesn't extend to that particular case and who can therefore handle it more easily， setting the negotiations for the beginning or end of the night and avoiding the hours in between—there are many such measures；these secretaries don't let anybody get the better of them， and their resilience is almost equal to their vulnerability.”K.slept， but it wasn't really sleep， he was still hearing what Bürgel was saying， perhaps better than earlier when he was still awake though dead tired， one word after the other accosted his ears， but that irritating awareness was gone， he felt free， it was no longer Bürgel who kept him， but he， K.，who now and then groped about for Bürgel， he had not yet reached the depths of sleep， but he had dipped into it and now no one was going to steal this from him.And it seemed to him as though in this way he had achieved a great victory and a group of people was already there to celebrate it and he or even somebody else was raising a champagne glass in honor of the victory.And in order to let everybody know what it was all about， the battle and the victory were being repeated once again， or perhaps they weren't being repeated but were taking place for the first time and had been celebrated earlier and kept on being celebrated， because there was fortunately no doubt at all about the outcome.A secretary， naked， very like the statue of a Greek god， was being hard pressed by K.in battle.That was quite comical， and in his sleep K.smiled gently at the way the secretary was being constantly startled out of his proud posture by K.'s advances and quickly had to use his raised arm and clenched fist to cover up his exposed parts， but he was not yet quick enough.The battle didn't last long， for step by step， and very big steps they were too， K.advanced.Was this even a battle？There was no real obstacle， only every so often a few squeaks from the secretary.This Greek god squeaked like a girl being tickled.And then finally he was gone；K.was alone in a large room；ready to fight he turned around and looked for his opponent， but there wasn't anybody there anymore， the group of people had scattered as well， only the champagne glass lay broken on the ground， K.stamped on it.But the splinters hurt；with a start he woke up feeling sick， like a small child on being woken up；nevertheless， at the sight of Bürgel's bare chest a thought from the dream came to him：“There's your Greek god！So pull him out of the sack！”“But there is，”said Bürgel， lifting his face pensively toward the ceiling， as though he were racking his memory for suitable examples but couldn't find any，“but there is an opportunity， despite all the precautionary measures， for the parties to take advantage of the nighttime weakness of the secretaries， assuming as always that it actually is a weakness.Of course this is a very rare opportunity， that is to say， one that virtually never arises.It entails the party's arriving unannounced in the middle of the night.It may surprise you that this opportunity， which appears to be a matter of course， should arise so rarely.But then of course you don't know what conditions are like here.But even you must have been struck by the seamlessness of the official organization.As a result of this seamlessness， though， everyone who has a request to make， or who must for some reason be interrogated about something， receives， immediately， without delay， usually even before he has thought the matter through， indeed even before he knows about it， a summons.This time he isn't interrogated， generally isn't interrogated， the affair usually isn't sufficiently mature for that， but he has the summons and can no longer arrive unannounced， that is， he cannot arrive entirely by surprise， he can at best arrive at the wrong time， and then he is simply made aware of the date and hour of the summons， and if he comes back at the right time， then he is generally sent away， this isn't a problem anymore since the summons in the hands of the party and the memorandum in the files are strong， though not always adequate， weapons in the hands of the secretaries.All this relates only to the secretary who is authorized to deal with the affair；approaching the others at night by surprise is something everybody would be free to do.But nobody is likely to do so， that would be almost pointless.Above all else， it would greatly embitter the secretary who is authorized；but in dealing with the parties， we secretaries certainly aren't jealous of one another when it comes to the work—everybody has an exceedingly heavy load， indeed one that is piled on without skimping， but in dealing with the parties we cannot tolerate any confusion about our jurisdiction.There are even people who have lost that round in the game because in the belief that they could get no further in the authorized office they tried to slip through at an unauthorized one.Such attempts inevitably fail because even if an unauthorized secretary is surprised by the party at night and is most willing to help， owing to his lack of jurisdiction any intervention he would make would scarcely be more effective than that of any Iawyer， actually far less so， for he doesn't have the time， even if he were capable of taking some other step—and indeed he is more familiar with the secret ways of the law than all of those lawyerly gentlemen—but he has no time for matters over which he has no authority， he cannot even spare a moment for them.Who， faced with such prospects， would spend his nights going from one unauthorized secretary to the next；besides， the parties are fully occupied if， in addition to their usual professions， they attempt to respond to the summonses and signals from the authorized offices， but they are‘fully occupied'only according to the parties'understanding of that term， which is naturally by no means the same as‘fully occupied'in the secretaries'understanding of it.”K.nodded， smiling；he thought that now he understood everything perfectly， not because it affected him but simply because he was convinced that in a few moments he would fall sound asleep， and this time without dreams or interruptions；surrounded on one side by authorized secretaries and on the other by unauthorized ones， and faced with the mass of fully occupied parties， he would fall into a deep sleep and thus escape from them all.He had become so used to Bürgel's soft， complacent voice， which was obviously trying in vain to put itself to sleep， that it would enhance rather than disturb his own sleep.“Chatter on， chatterbox，”he thought，“you're chattering away just for me.”“So where is it，”said Bürgel， two fingers fidgeting at his lower lip， with widened eyes and craned neck， as though after a strenuous hike he were now coming to a delightful vista，“so where is the opportunity that I spoke of which rarely， and indeed almost never， arises？The secret lies in the regulations about jurisdiction.In fact， it is not true and in a great living organization cannot be true that there's only one authorized secretary for each case.It's just that one of them has chief authority， while many others have a lesser degree of authority.Who—even if he were the greatest worker—could keep together on his desk the ramifications of the smallest incident？Even what I was saying about the chief authority goes too far.Doesn't the least bit of jurisdiction contain all of it？Isn't the passion with which the matter gets tackled decisive？And isn't this passion always present to the same extent， isn't it always there in full force？There can indeed be distinctions between the secretaries in all matters， and there certainly are countless distinctions like that， but not in their degree of passion， there is not one of them who could restrain himself if he were approached with a request to deal with a case over which he has even the slightest jurisdiction.But outwardly it is necessary to establish an orderly means of negotiation， and therefore for each of the parties the primary responsibility is taken on by one particular secretary， whom they are to heed in official matters.But this authorized secretary needn't even be the one with most jurisdiction in the case；this is something the organization determines in light of its current needs.That's how matters stand.And now， Surveyor， consider the possibility that a party does succeed somehow or other， despite the generally adequate obstacles I have already mentioned， in surprising in the middle of the night a secretary who does have some jurisdiction in that particular case.You probably haven't even considered the possibility of something like that？I can believe that.But in any case there's no need to think about it since it virtually never happens.What a strange， precisely shaped， small， clever little grain such a party would have to be in order to slip through that incomparable sieve.You think this can never happen.You're right， it can never happen.But one night—who can vouch for everything？—it does happen.True， I don't have any acquaintances that this has ever happened to；now， that doesn't prove very much；since my circle of acquaintances is limited compared with the numbers involved here， and besides it is by no means certain that a secretary who has experienced anything like this would want to admit it；after all， this is a very personal matter， one that is closely tied to one's official sense of shame.Still， my experience may prove that it is so rare an occurrence—one that has actually only been rumored to take place and has never actually been quite confirmed—that one is exaggerating greatly if one actually fears it.Even if it did happen， one could—it would be reasonable to assume—render it quite harmless by showing it proof， as can easily be done， that there simply is no place on earth for it.In any case， it is morbid if out of fear of this somebody hides under the blanket and won't even dare to look out.And even if this perfect improbability had suddenly materialized， does that mean all is lost？On the contrary.That all should be lost is even more improbable than the greatest improbability.Of course， if the party is in the room， it's already bad enough.It does constrict one's heart.‘How much longer can you resist？'one asks oneself.But one knows that there will be no resistance.You just have to picture the situation correctly.Sitting there is the party whom one has never seen， always awaited， awaited with genuine thirst， and always quite wisely considered unreachable.Through his silent presence alone， he invites one to invade his poor life， to look about as though one were surrounded by one's own possessions， and to suffer along with him from the futile demands that he makes.On a quiet night an invitation like that is enchanting.One accepts it and has then actually ceased to be an official.The situation then is such that it soon becomes impossible to turn down a request.Strictly speaking， one is desperate， and speaking even more strictly， quite happy.Desperate， for the vulnerability with which one sits there waiting for the party's plea， knowing that one must grant it as soon as it is uttered， even if it should， at any rate insofar as one can perceive this oneself， literally tear apart the official system—this vulnerability must surely be the worst thing that can befall one in the course of one's duty.Especially since—leaving everything else aside—especially since the elevation in rank that one has forcefully claimed for oneself just then is beyond all comprehension.Our position is such that we are by no means authorized to grant requests of the kind at issue here， but through the proximity of the nocturnal visiting party our official powers increase， we promise to do things that are outside our own area and will actually fulfill them；at night， like a robber in the woods， the party forces from us sacrifices that we would never have been capable of otherwise—well， anyhow， that's the way it is right now while the party is still here， giving us strength and coercing us and spurring us on and everything is still half-unconsciously under way， but what will it be like afterward， when this is over， and the party， replete and indifferent， leaves us， and we stand here alone， helpless in the face of our abuse of office—it is absolutely unthinkable.And yet we are happy.How suicidal happiness can be！We could naturally make an effort to hide the real situation from the party.After all， he barely notices anything on his own.To his mind， it was probably only for indifferent， accidental reasons—exhaustion， disappointment， inconsiderateness， and indifference—that he had out of exhaustion and disappointment penetrated into a room that was not the one he wanted， and sits there in complete ignorance， preoccupied with thoughts—if preoccupied with anything whatsoever—of his error or of his weariness.Cannot one simply let him be？One cannot.With the loquaciousness of the fortunate one must explain everything to him.Without sparing oneself in the least， one must show him exactly what has happened and why it has happened， how extremely rare and singularly great an opportunity this is， one must show the party how， even though he has stumbled into this affair in an utter helplessness that no being other than a party is capable of， he can now， if he wants， Surveyor， take control of the entire situation， and to this end need only somehow present his request， for which the fulfillment is ready and even heading toward him—one must show all this to him；for the official it's the most difficult hour.But， Surveyor， once one has done this， then the most necessary things have been done， and one must simply content oneself and wait.”
That was all K. heard， he was asleep， cut off from everything around him.His head， which initially had rested on his Left arm up on the bedpost， had slid off while he slept and now hung freely， sinking slowly；the support from the arm above no longer sufficed， K.involuntarily found a new hold by bracing his right hand against the blanket， thereby accidentally grasping Bürgel's foot， which stuck up under the blanket.Bürgel looked down and let him have his foot， no matter how bothersome that must have been.
Just then， there was knocking， a few heavy blows， on the side wall， K. gave a start and stared at the wall.“Isn't the surveyor there？”a voice asked.“Yes，”Bürgel said， freed his foot from K.'s grasp， and suddenly stretched in a wild and willful manner， like a little boy.“Then he should finally come，”the voice said again；it showed no consideration for Bürgel nor for the possibility that he might still need K.“It's Erlanger，”Bürgel said in a whisper；the presence of Erlanger next door didn't seem to surprise him，“go to him at once， he's angry now， try to soothe him.He's a sound sleeper， but we spoke too loudly， one cannot control oneself or one's voice when one speaks of certain matters.Well， get going now， you seem unable to drag yourself out of your slumber.But do get going， what more do you want here？No， you needn't excuse yourself because of your sleepiness， why should you？One's physical strength has a certain limit， who can help it that this limit is significant in other ways， too.No， nobody can help it.That is how the world corrects its course and keeps its equilibrium.It's certainly an excellent， always unimaginably excellent arrangement， even if in certain other respects hopeless.Get going now， I don't know why you're looking at me like that.If you delay your departure any longer， Erlanger will come down on me， and that's something I would very much like to avoid.But get going now， who knows what awaits you there；here everything is full of opportunities.Except that some opportunities are， as it were， too great to be acted upon；there are things that fail through nothing other than themselves.Yes， that is amazing.Incidentally， I hope that now I can finally go to sleep for a while.But it's already five o'clock and the noise will soon start.If only you would at least go！”
Dizzy on being suddenly awakened from deep sleep， still immensely in need of sleep， his body hurting all over owing to the uncomfortable position， for a long time K. couldn't decide whether to get up， he put his hands on his forehead and gazed down into his lap.Even Bürgel's constant goodbyes couldn't have prompted him to leave；it was only a sense of the utter futility of remaining in this room that gradually led him to do so.How indescribably desolate this room seemed to him.Whether it had simply become like this or had always been like this he did not know.He wouldn't even be able to fall asleep here again.And that was the decisive thought；smiling slightly about this， he stood up， leaned against anything that would support him， against the bed， the door， and， as though he had long since taken leave of Bürgel， left without saying goodbye.
