Before the dark Herrenhof a little group of men were standing, two or three had lanterns with them, so that a face here and there could be distinguished. K. recognised only one acquaintance, Gerstäcker the carrier. Gerstäcker greeted him with the enquiry: “You’re still in the village?” “Yes,” replied K. “I’ve come here for good.” “That doesn’t matter to me,” said Gerstäcker, breaking out into a fit of coughing and turning away to the others.

It turned out that they were all waiting for Erlanger. Erlanger had already arrived, but he was consulting first with Momus before he admitted his clients. They were all complaining at not being allowed to wait inside and having to stand out there in the snow. The weather wasn’t very cold, but still it showed a lack of consideration to keep them standing there in front of the house in the darkness, perhaps for hours. It was certainly not the fault of Erlanger, who was always very accommodating, knew nothing about it, and would certainly be very annoyed if it were reported to him. It was the fault of the Herrenhof landlady, who in her positively morbid determination to be refined, wouldn’t suffer a lot of people to come into the Herrenhof at the same time. “If it absolutely must be and they must come,” she used to say, “then in Heaven’s name let them come one at a time.” And she had managed to arrange that the clients, who at first had waited simply in a passage, later on the stairs, then in the hall, and finally in the taproom, were at last pushed out into the street. But even that had not satisfied her. It was unendurable for her to be always “besieged,” as she expressed herself, in her own house. It was incomprehensible to her why there should need to be clients waiting at all. “To dirty the front-door steps,” an official had once told her, obviously in annoyance, but to her this pronouncement had seemed very illuminating, and she was never tired of quoting it. She tried her best⁠—and