“It’s impossible,” said the landlady, “and I can see that you’re incapable of understanding why. But just tell me what you want to speak to Klamm about?”
“About Frieda, of course,” said K.
“About Frieda?” repeated the landlady incomprehendingly, and turned to Frieda. “Do you hear that, Frieda, it’s about you that he, he, wants to speak to Klamm, to Klamm!”
“Oh,” said K. , “you’re a clever and admirable woman, and yet every trifle upsets you. Well, there it is, I want to speak to him about Frieda; that’s not monstrous, it’s only natural. And you’re quite wrong, too, in supposing that from the moment of my appearance Frieda has ceased to be of any importance to Klamm. You underestimate him if you suppose that. I’m well aware that it’s impertinence in me to lay down the law to you in this matter, but I must do it. I can’t be the cause of any alteration in Klamm’s relation to Frieda. Either there was no essential relationship between them—and that’s what it amounts to if people deny that he was her honoured lover—in which case there