3 waits  his  entire  lifetime,  trying  various  means  to  gain  admission,  but  finally  dies waiting. “…  before  the  Law  stands  a  door-keeper.    A  man  from  the country comes up to this door-keeper and begs for admission to the Law.  But the door-keeper tells him that he cannot grant him admission now.  The man ponders this and then asks if he will be allowed to enter later.  ‘Possibly,’ the door-keeper says, ‘but not now.’  Since the door leading to the Law is standing open as always and the door-keeper steps aside, the man bends down to look  inside  through  the  door.    Seeing  this,  the  door-keeper laughs and says: ‘If it attracts you so much, go on and try to get in  without  my  permission.    But  you  must  realize  that  I  am powerful.  And I’m only the lowest door-keeper.  At every hall there  is  another  door-keeper,  each  one  more  powerful  than  the last.  Even I cannot bear to look at the third one.’  The man from the country had not expected difficulties like this, for, he thinks, the Law is surely supposed to be accessible to everyone always, but  when  he  looks  more  closely  at  the  door-keeper  in  his  fur coat,  with  his  great  sharp  nose  and  his  long,  thin  black  Tartar beard, he decides it is better to wait until he receives permission to enter.  The door-keeper gives him a stool and allows him to sit down to one side of the door.  There he sits, day after day, and year  after  year.    Many  times  he  tries  to  get  in  and  wears  the door-keeper  out  with  his  appeals.    At  times  the  door-keeper conducts  little  cross-examinations,  asking  him  about  his  home and  many  other  things,  but  they  are  impersonal  questions,  the sort  great  men  ask,  and  the  door-keeper  always  ends  up  by saying that he cannot let him in yet.  The man from the country, who  has  equipped  himself  with  many  things  for  his  journey, makes use of everything he has, however valuable, to bribe the door-keeper, who, it’s true, accepts it all, saying as he takes each thing:  ‘I  am  only  accepting  this  so  that  you  won’t  believe  you have left something untried.’ During  all  these  long  years,  the  man  watches  the  door-keeper almost continuously.  He forgets the other door-keepers, this first one seems to be the only obstacle between him and admission to the Law.  In the first years he curses this piece of ill-luck aloud, and  later  when  he  gets  old,  he  only  grumbles  to  himself.    He becomes  childish  and,  since  he  has  been  scrutinizing  the  door- keeper so closely for years that he can identify even the fleas in the door-keeper’s fur collar, he begs these fleas to help him to change the door-keeper’s mind.  In the end his eyes grow dim and he cannot tell whether it is really getting darker around him or  whether  it  is  just  his  eyes  deceiving  him.    But  now  he glimpses  in  the  darkness  a  radiance  glowing  inextinguishably from the door of the Law.  He is not going to live much longer now.  Before he dies all his experiences during the whole period of waiting merge in his head into one single question, which he