The Trial by Franz Kafka Chapter 6 Page 13

there was unfortunately no way of stopping K.

's uncle from continually asking questions about the trial. “Now then, Josef,” he began, lightly acknowledging the bows from those around them as they passed, “tell me everything about this trial; what sort of trial is it?” K. made a few comments which conveyed little information, even laughed a little, and it was only when they reached the front steps that he explained to his uncle that he had not wanted to talk openly in front of those people. “Quite right,” said his uncle, “but now start talking.” With his head to one side, and smoking his cigar in short, impatient draughts, he listened. “First of all, Uncle,” said K., “it's not a trial like you'd have in a normal courtroom.” “So much the worse,” said his uncle.