“Most certainly,” replied the young man slowly, while here and there a head was shaken over K. ’s remark, “the castle of my lord the Count West-west.”
“And must one have a permit to sleep here?” asked K. , as if he wished to assure himself that what he had heard was not a dream.
“One must have a permit,” was the reply, and there was an ironical contempt for K. in the young man’s gesture as he stretched out his arm and appealed to the others, “Or must one not have a permit?”
“Well, then, I’ll have to go and get one,” said K. yawning and pushing his blanket away as if to rise up.
“And from whom, pray?” asked the young man.
“From the Count,” said K. , “that’s the only thing to be done.”
“A permit from the Count in the middle of the night!” cried the young man, stepping back a pace.
“Is that impossible?” enquired K. coolly. “Then why did you waken me?”
At this the young man flew into a passion. “None of your guttersnipe manners!” he cried. “I insist on respect for the Count’s authority! I woke you up to inform you that you must quit the Count’s territory at once.”
“Enough of this fooling,” said K. in a markedly quiet voice, laying himself down again and pulling up the blanket. “You’re going a little too far, my good fellow, and I’ll have something to say tomorrow about your conduct. The landlord here and those other gentlemen will bear me out if necessary. Let me tell you that I am the Land Surveyor whom the Count is expecting. My assistants are coming on tomorrow in a carriage with the apparatus. I did not want to miss the chance of a walk through