Upstairs K. ran into the teacher. The room was improved almost beyond recognition, so well had Frieda set to work. It was well-aired, the stove amply stoked, the floor scrubbed, the bed put in order, the maids’ filthy pile of things and even their photographs cleared away; the table, which had literally struck one in the eye before with its crust of accumulated dust, was covered with a white embroidered cloth. One was in a position to receive visitors now. K. ’s small change of underclothes hanging before the fire—Frieda must have washed them early in the morning—did not spoil the impression much. Frieda and the teacher were sitting at the table, they rose at K. ’s entrance. Frieda greeted K. with a kiss, the teacher bowed slightly. Distracted and still agitated by his talk with the landlady, K. began to apologise for not having been able yet to visit the teacher; it was as if he were assuming that the teacher had called on him finally because he was impatient at K. ’s absence. On the other hand, the teacher in his precise way only seemed now gradually to remember that sometime or other there had been some mention between K. and himself of a visit. “You must be, Land Surveyor,” he said slowly, “the stranger I had a few words with the other day in the church square.” “I am,” replied K. shortly; the behaviour which he had submitted to when he felt homeless he did not intend to put up with now here in his room. He turned to Frieda and consulted her about an important visit which he had to pay at once and for which he would need his best clothes. Without further enquiry Frieda called over the assistants, who were already busy examining the new tablecloth, and commanded them to brush K. ’s suit and shoes—which he had begun to take off—down in the yard. She herself took a shirt from the line and ran down to the kitchen to iron it.
Now K. was left alone with the teacher, who was seated silently again at the table; K. kept him waiting for a little longer, drew off his shirt and