Moving into School and Conflict

The move into the schoolhouse marks a decisive turning point in K.'s struggle, as he and Frieda, along with the assistants, exchange the relative comfort of the Bridge Inn for a cold, ill-equipped classroom, triggering a series of humiliations, conflicts with the teacher and Miss Gisa, and the first serious cracks in K.'s relationship with Frieda.

The Move to the School

After the landlady of the Bridge Inn, furious at K.'s rejection of her advice and his insistence on seeking an interview with Klamm, ordered him out of the inn, Frieda persuaded K. to accept the village mayor's offer of the temporary post of school janitor. The teacher, who had brought the offer, made it clear that the post was a favour, not a right, and that K. would be answerable to him. K., freezing in the attic and seeing no alternative, gave a curt 'Yes' to Frieda rather than to the teacher, and the decision was made. The move was immediate: Frieda told the teacher they would move in that day, and the teacher promised to inspect the premises the next morning.

The schoolhouse was a long, low building that had once struck K. as combining the character of something temporary and something very old. The classroom they were given was large, used also as a gymnasium, with gymnastic apparatus standing around and hanging from the ceiling. The room was cold, the stove had gone out, and the only wood was locked in a shed to which the teacher held the key. There was no proper bed—only a single straw mattress covered with Frieda's woollen shawl, two stiff, coarse blankets, and no eiderdown. The assistants, who had followed them, settled in a corner on two old skirts, huddling together and whispering, while Frieda, trying to smile through her tears, promised to get beds and fuel the next day. K., distracted, found himself mentally rehearsing his message to Klamm, while Frieda prepared a meal on a spirit-burner, spreading the white tablecloth on the teacher's desk and serving bread, bacon, and a can of sardines.

The First Night and the Assistants

K. and Frieda ate their supper sitting close together, while the assistants, seated on the podium at their feet, proved a constant nuisance, rising repeatedly to check for seconds. K. complained to Frieda about their impertinence, suggesting that stern treatment might drive them away, but Frieda defended them as young, cheerful, and simple, and admitted she knew no means of getting rid of them. That night, unable to bear the cold, K. and the assistants broke into the woodshed, chopping down the flimsy door and carrying in a great heap of wood. The stove was lit, and everyone lay down around it, with one assistant keeping watch over the fire. In the middle of the night, K. woke to find one of the assistants lying beside him instead of Frieda—the biggest shock he had yet experienced in the village. He punched the assistant in blind fury, making him cry. Frieda explained that she had been woken by what she thought was a large animal, probably a cat, jumping on her breast, and had risen to search for it. The assistant had seized the chance to lie on the straw mattress. Frieda, on her way back, comfortingly stroked the whimpering assistant's hair, a gesture that did not escape K.'s notice.

The Morning Confrontation with Miss Gisa

The next morning, they all woke late, only to find schoolchildren standing around them, curious. Miss Gisa, the assistant teacher, appeared at the door, prepared for the new janitor, and immediately launched into a tirade: 'I really can't have this. Here's a nice thing! You have permission to sleep in the classroom, but that's all; it's not my duty to teach the children in your bedroom. A school janitor and his family lying in bed until the middle of the morning! Shame on you!' K. and Frieda, still in their underclothes, hastily draped blankets over the parallel bars and vaulting-horse to create a makeshift dressing room. Miss Gisa, however, was not mollified. She complained about the lack of fresh water, and then, with her ruler, swept the remains of their supper off the teacher's desk—the sardine oil, the coffee, and the broken coffee-pot—onto the floor. Frieda was most upset by the loss of the coffee-pot, and K. promised to ask the village mayor for a replacement. Miss Gisa then accused K. of hurting her cat, which lay on the washstand with an injured paw. She showed him the paw and, before he knew what she was about, ran it over the back of his hand, scratching him hard enough to leave bloody weals. Frieda screamed at the sight of the blood, and K. showed the children his hand, saying, 'There, just see what a nasty, sneaking cat did to me.'

The Teacher's Accusation and Frieda's Sacrifice

As K. began his janitorial duties—fetching water, sweeping the floor—the teacher appeared in the doorway, holding an assistant by each collar. He had caught them fetching firewood and thundered, 'Who has dared to break into the woodshed? Where is the fellow? Let me crush him as he deserves!' Frieda, rising from the floor where she was washing around Miss Gisa's feet, took the blame upon herself, claiming she had broken down the door with an axe the previous night because the classrooms needed heating. The assistants, however, pointed at K., saying, 'That gentleman.' Frieda laughed, dismissing them as 'mere children,' and insisted she had acted alone. The teacher, unconvinced, was about to thrash the assistants when Frieda cried out, 'Oh no, the assistants were telling the truth!' and fled behind the apparatus, sobbing. Miss Gisa, who had just finished bandaging the cat's paw, called them all 'a pack of liars.' The teacher, turning to K., declared him dismissed on the spot for 'shameful dereliction of duty,' but K. refused to leave, insisting that only the village mayor, who had appointed him, could dismiss him. The teacher, after consulting Miss Gisa, decided to move his class to the other classroom, leaving K. and Frieda alone in the gymnasium, with the teacher's parting words: 'You will therefore be left alone, and can do as you like in this room, undisturbed by the aversion of all decent bystanders. But it won't be for long, you mark my words.'

Aftermath and the Dismissal of the Assistants

As soon as they were alone, K. told the assistants, 'Go away, you two!' and locked the door behind them. They whimpered and knocked, but K. was ruthless, shouting that they were dismissed for good. The teacher, summoned by the noise, drove them away with his cane. The assistants soon reappeared outside the windows, knocking on the panes and pleading, then climbed onto the stone base of the school garden fence, running along it and holding out their clasped hands. K. drew the curtains to shut out the sight. Inside, K. found Frieda, who had risen and was silently putting coffee on to heat. He observed her weary movements, noting that her sprightliness and determination, which had lent beauty to her meagre body, were gone—a few days of living with K. had been enough to do it. He wondered whether her removal from Klamm's sphere was the real reason for her decline. Frieda, in a moment of despair, suggested they emigrate to the south of France or Spain, but K. refused, saying he had come to stay. She then confessed that the assistants had been pestering her, that they were 'importunate, lecherous young fellows,' and that she suspected they were Klamm's envoys. K. dismissed this, but Frieda's anxiety revealed the growing rift between them. The event ends with K. and Frieda, having lost the assistants and the comfort of the inn, facing an uncertain future in the cold, empty schoolhouse, their relationship strained by the very circumstances that had brought them together.