And he tore himself free and went back into the house—this time not along the wall, but straight through the snow—and met the landlord in the hall, who greeted him in silence and pointed towards the door of the taproom. K. followed the hint, for he was shivering and wanted to see human faces; but he was greatly disappointed when he saw there, sitting at a little table—which must have been specially set out, for usually the customers put up with upturned barrels—the young gentleman, and standing before him—an unwelcome sight for K. —the landlady from the Bridge Inn. Pepi, proud, her head thrown back and a fixed smile on her face, conscious of her incontestable dignity, her plait nodding with every movement, hurried to and fro, fetching beer and then pen and ink, for the gentleman had already spread out papers in front of him, was comparing dates which he looked up now in this paper, then again in a paper at the other end of the table, and was preparing to write. From her full height the landlady silently overlooked the gentleman and the papers, her lips pursed a little as if musing; it was as if she had already said everything necessary and it had been well received. “The Land Surveyor at last,” said the gentleman at K. ’s entrance, looking up briefly, then burying himself again in his papers. The landlady too only gave K. an indifferent and not in the least surprised glance. But Pepi actually seemed to notice K. for the first time when he went up to the bar and ordered a brandy.
K. leaned there, his hands pressed to his eyes, oblivious of everything. Then he took a sip of the brandy and pushed it back, saying it was undrinkable. “All the gentlemen drink it,” replied Pepi curtly, poured out the remainder, washed the glass and set it on the rack. “The gentlemen have better stuff as well,” said K. “It’s possible,” replied Pepi, “but I haven’t,” and with that she was finished with K. and once more at the