reading a newspaper, but not very carefully; often he yawned and left off reading, then bent forward and glanced along the passage, perhaps he was waiting for a client whom he had invited and who had omitted to come. When they had passed him the servant said to Gerstäcker: “That’s Pinzgauer.” Gerstäcker nodded: “He hasn’t been down here for a long time now,” he said. “Not for a long time now,” the servant agreed.
At last they stopped before a door which was not in any way different from the others, and yet behind which, so the servant informed them, was Erlanger. The servant got K. to lift him on to his shoulders and had a look into the room through the open slit. “He’s lying down,” said the servant climbing down, “on the bed, in his clothes it’s true, but I fancy all the same that he’s asleep. Often he’s overcome with weariness like that, here in the village, what with the change in his habits. We’ll have to wait. When he wakes up he’ll ring. Besides, it has happened before this for him to sleep away all his stay in the village, and then when he woke to have to leave again immediately for the Castle. It’s voluntary, of course, the work he does here.” “Then it would be better if he just slept on,” said Gerstäcker, “for when he has a little time left for his work after he wakes, he’s very vexed at having fallen asleep, and tries to get everything settled in a hurry, so that one can hardly get a word in.” “You’ve come on account of the contract for the carting for the new building?” asked the servant. Gerstäcker nodded, drew the servant aside and talked to him in a low voice, but the servant hardly listened, gazed away over Gerstäcker, whom he overtopped by more than a head, and stroked his hair slowly and seriously.