K. stepped out into the windswept street and peered into the darkness. Wild, wild weather. As if there were some connection between the two he reflected again how the landlady had striven to make him accede to the protocol, and how he had stood out. The landlady’s attempt had of course not been a straightforward one, surreptitiously she had tried to put him against the protocol at the same time; in reality he could not tell whether he had stood out or given in. An intriguing nature, acting blindly, it seemed, like the wind, according to strange and remote behests which one could never guess at.
He had only taken a few steps along the main street when he saw two swaying lights in the distance; these signs of life gladdened him and he hastened towards them, while they too made in his direction. He could not tell why he was so disappointed when he recognised the assistants. Still, they were coming to meet him, evidently sent by Frieda, and the lanterns which delivered him from the darkness roaring round him were his own; nevertheless he was disappointed, he had expected something else, not those old acquaintances who were such a burden to him. But the assistants were not alone: out of the darkness between them Barnabas stepped out. “Barnabas!” cried K. and he held out his hand, “have you come to see me?” The surprise at meeting him again drowned at first all the annoyance which he had once felt at Barnabas. “To see you,” replied Barnabas unalterably friendly as before, “with a letter from Klamm.” “A letter from Klamm!” cried K. throwing back his head. “Lights here!” he called to the assistants, who now pressed close to him on both sides holding up their lanterns. K. had to fold the large sheet in small compass to protect it from the wind while reading it. Then he read: “To the Land Surveyor at the Bridge Inn. The surveying work which you have carried out thus far has been appreciated by me. The work of the assistants too