The Project Gutenberg EBook of Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka
Translated by David Wyllie.

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Title: Metamorphosis

Author: Franz Kafka

Release Date: February, 2004  [EBook #5200]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on May 13, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, METAMORPHOSIS ***




Copyright (C) 2002 by David Wyllie.


Metamorphosis
by Franz Kafka

Translated by David Wyllie


One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he
found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and
divided by arches into stiff sections.  The bedding was
hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any
moment.  His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the
size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he
looked.

"What's happened to me?" he thought.  It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too small,
lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.  A
collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table -
Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung a
picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.  It showed a
lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,
raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower
arm towards the viewer.

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull
weather.  Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,
which made him feel quite sad.  "How about if I sleep a
little bit longer and forget all this nonsense", he thought,
but that was something he was unable to do because he was
used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state
couldn't get into that position.  However hard he threw
himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he
was.  He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes
so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs,
and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain
there that he had never felt before.

"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that
I've chosen!  Travelling day in and day out.  Doing business
like this takes much more effort than doing your own
business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of
travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and
irregular food, contact with different people all the time
so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly
with them.  It can all go to Hell!"  He felt a slight itch
up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back
towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better;
found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with
lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make
of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs
he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he
was overcome by a cold shudder.

He slid back into his former position.  "Getting up early
all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid.  You've got
to get enough sleep.  Other travelling salesmen live a life
of luxury.  For instance, whenever I go back to the guest
house during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts.  I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get
kicked out on the spot.  But who knows, maybe that would be
the best thing for me.  If I didn't have my parents to think
about I'd have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have
gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him
everything I would, let him know just what I feel.  He'd
fall right off his desk!  And it's a funny sort of business
to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at your
subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go
right up close because the boss is hard of hearing.  Well,
there's still some hope; once I've got the money together to
pay off my parents' debt to him - another five or six years
I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.  That's when
I'll make the big change.  First of all though, I've got to
get up, my train leaves at five."

And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest
of drawers.  "God in Heaven!" he thought.  It was half past
six and the hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even
later than half past, more like quarter to seven.  Had the
alarm clock not rung?  He could see from the bed that it had
been set for four o'clock as it should have been; it
certainly must have rung.  Yes, but was it possible to
quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise?  True,
he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the more
deeply because of that.  What should he do now?  The next
train went at seven; if he were to catch that he would have
to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still not
packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and
lively.  And even if he did catch the train he would not
avoid his boss's anger as the office assistant would have
been there to see the five o'clock train go, he would have
put in his report about Gregor's not being there a long time
ago.  The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless,
and with no understanding.  What about if he reported sick?
But that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in
fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.
His boss would certainly come round with the doctor from the
medical insurance company, accuse his parents of having a
lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation not to make
any claim as the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill
but that many were workshy.  And what's more, would he have
been entirely wrong in this case?  Gregor did in fact, apart
from excessive sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel
completely well and even felt much hungrier than usual.

He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to
decide to get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter
to seven.  There was a cautious knock at the door near his
head.  "Gregor", somebody called - it was his mother - "it's
quarter to seven.  Didn't you want to go somewhere?"  That
gentle voice!  Gregor was shocked when he heard his own
voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice
he had had before.  As if from deep inside him, there was a
painful and uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the
words could be made out at first but then there was a sort
of echo which made them unclear, leaving the hearer unsure
whether he had heard properly or not.  Gregor had wanted to
give a full answer and explain everything, but in the
circumstances contented himself with saying: "Yes, mother,
yes, thank-you, I'm getting up now."  The change in Gregor's
voice probably could not be noticed outside through the
wooden door, as his mother was satisfied with this
explanation and shuffled away.  But this short conversation
made the other members of the family aware that Gregor,
against their expectations was still at home, and soon his
father came knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but
with his fist.  "Gregor, Gregor", he called, "what's wrong?"
And after a short while he called again with a warning
deepness in his voice: "Gregor! Gregor!"  At the other side
door his sister came plaintively: "Gregor? Aren't you well?
Do you need anything?"

Gregor answered to both sides: "I'm ready, now", making an
effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by
enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between
each, individual word.  His father went back to his
breakfast, but his sister whispered: "Gregor, open the door,
I beg of you."  Gregor, however, had no thought of opening
the door, and instead congratulated himself for his cautious
habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors at
night even when he was at home.

The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace
without being disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to
have his breakfast.  Only then would he consider what to do
next, as he was well aware that he would not bring his
thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in bed.  He
remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed,
perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always
turned out to be pure imagination and he wondered how his
imaginings would slowly resolve themselves today.  He did
not have the slightest doubt that the change in his voice
was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold,
which was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.

It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had
to blow himself up a little and they fell off by themselves.
But it became difficult after that, especially as he was so
exceptionally broad.  He would have used his arms and his
hands to push himself up; but instead of them he only had
all those little legs continuously moving in different
directions, and which he was moreover unable to control.  If
he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one
that would stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to
do what he wanted with that leg, all the others seemed to be
set free and would move about painfully.  "This is
something that can't be done in bed", Gregor said to
himself, "so don't keep trying to do it".

The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of
his body out of the bed, but he had never seen this lower
part, and could not imagine what it looked like; it turned
out to be too hard to move; it went so slowly; and finally,
almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly shoved himself
forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose the
wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and
learned from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of
his body might well, at present, be the most sensitive.

So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the
bed first, carefully turning his head to the side.  This he
managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its
weight, the bulk of his body eventually followed slowly in
the direction of the head.  But when he had at last got his
head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to
him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his
head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on
pushing himself forward the same way.  And he could not
knock himself out now at any price; better to stay in bed
than lose consciousness.

It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been
earlier, but when he lay there sighing, and was once more
watching his legs as they struggled against each other even
harder than before, if that was possible, he could think of
no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos.  He told
himself once more that it was not possible for him to stay
in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to
get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever
sacrifice.  At the same time, though, he did not forget to
remind himself that calm consideration was much better than
rushing to desperate conclusions.  At times like this he
would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly
as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the
narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had
little confidence or cheer to offer him.  "Seven o'clock,
already", he said to himself when the clock struck again,
"seven o'clock, and there's still a fog like this."  And he
lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he
perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back to
their real and natural state.

But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past
seven I'll definitely have to have got properly out of bed.
And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask
what's happened to me as well, as they open up at work
before seven o'clock."  And so he set himself to the task of
swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at
the same time.  If he succeeded in falling out of bed in
this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could
probably avoid injuring it.  His back seemed to be quite
hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto
the carpet.  His main concern was for the loud noise he was
bound to make, and which even through all the doors would
probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was something
that had to be risked.

When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed -
the new method was more of a game than an effort, all he had
to do was rock back and forth - it occurred to him how
simple everything would be if somebody came to help him.
Two strong people - he had his father and the maid in mind -
would have been more than enough; they would only have to
push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away
from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient
and careful as he swang over onto the floor, where,
hopefully, the little legs would find a use.  Should he
really call for help though, even apart from the fact that
all the doors were locked?  Despite all the difficulty he
was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.

After a while he had already moved so far across that it
would have been hard for him to keep his balance if he
rocked too hard.  The time was now ten past seven and he
would have to make a final decision very soon.   Then there
was a ring at the door of the flat.  "That'll be someone
from work", he said to himself, and froze very still,
although his little legs only became all the more lively as
they danced around.  For a moment everything remained quiet.
"They're not opening the door", Gregor said to himself,
caught in some nonsensical hope.  But then of course, the
maid's firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it.
Gregor only needed to hear the visitor's first words of
greeting and he knew who it was - the chief clerk himself.
Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for
a company where they immediately became highly suspicious at
the slightest shortcoming?  Were all employees, every one of
them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and
devoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he
couldn't get out of bed if he didn't spend at least a couple
of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really
not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries -
assuming enquiries were even necessary - did the chief clerk
have to come himself, and did they have to show the whole,
innocent family that this was so suspicious that only the
chief clerk could be trusted to have the wisdom to
investigate it?  And more because these thoughts had made
him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself
with all his force out of the bed.   There was a loud thump,
but it wasn't really a loud noise.  His fall was softened a
little by the carpet, and Gregor's back was also more
elastic than he had thought, which made the sound muffled
and not too noticeable.  He had not held his head carefully
enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in pain,
he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.

"Something's fallen down in there", said the chief clerk in
the room on the left.  Gregor tried to imagine whether
something of the sort that had happened to him today could
ever happen to the chief clerk too; you had to concede that
it was possible.  But as if in gruff reply to this question,
the chief clerk's firm footsteps in his highly polished
boots could now be heard in the adjoining room.  From the
room on his right, Gregor's sister whispered to him to let
him know: "Gregor, the chief clerk is here."

"Yes, I know", said Gregor to himself; but without daring to
raise his voice loud enough for his sister to hear him.

"Gregor", said his father now from the room to his left,
"the chief clerk has come round and wants to know why you
didn't leave on the early train.  We don't know what to say
to him.  And anyway, he wants to speak to you personally.
So please open up this door.  I'm sure he'll be good enough
to forgive the untidiness of your room."

Then the chief clerk called "Good morning, Mr. Samsa".

"He isn't well", said his mother to the chief clerk, while
his father continued to speak through the door. "He isn't
well, please believe me.  Why else would Gregor have missed
a train!  The lad only ever thinks about the business.  It
nearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in the
evenings; he's been in town for a week now but stayed home
every evening.  He sits with us in the kitchen and just
reads the paper or studies train timetables.  His idea of
relaxation is working with his fretsaw.  He's made a little
frame, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings,
you'll be amazed how nice it is; it's hanging up in his
room; you'll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door.
Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't have been able to
get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so stubborn;
and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is,
but he isn't."

"I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly and
thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss
any word of the conversation.  "Well I can't think of any
other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa", said the chief
clerk, "I hope it's nothing serious.  But on the other hand,
I must say that if we people in commerce ever become
slightly unwell then, fortunately or unfortunately as you
like, we simply have to overcome it because of business
considerations."  "Can the chief clerk come in to see you
now then?", asked his father impatiently, knocking at the
door again.  "No", said Gregor.  In the room on his right
there followed a painful silence; in the room on his left
his sister began to cry.

So why did his sister not go and join the others?  She had
probably only just got up and had not even begun to get
dressed.  And why was she crying?  Was it because he had not
got up, and had not let the chief clerk in, because he was
in danger of losing his job and if that happened his boss
would once more pursue their parents with the same demands
as before?  There was no need to worry about things like
that yet.  Gregor was still there and had not the slightest
intention of abandoning his family.  For the time being he
just lay there on the carpet, and no-one who knew the
condition he was in would seriously have expected him to let
the chief clerk in.  It was only a minor discourtesy, and a
suitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it
was not something for which Gregor could be sacked on the
spot.  And it seemed to Gregor much more sensible to leave
him now in peace instead of disturbing him with talking at
him and crying.  But the others didn't know what was
happening, they were worried, that would excuse their
behaviour.  The chief clerk now raised his voice, "Mr.
Samsa", he called to him, "what is wrong?  You barricade
yourself in your room, give us no more than yes or no for an
answer, you are causing serious and unnecessary concern to
your parents and you fail - and I mention this just by the
way - you fail to carry out your business duties in a way
that is quite unheard of.  I'm speaking here on behalf of
your parents and of your employer, and really must request a
clear and  immediate explanation.  I am astonished, quite
astonished.  I thought I knew you as a calm and sensible
person, and now you suddenly seem to be showing off with
peculiar whims.   This morning, your employer did suggest a
possible reason for your failure to appear, it's true - it
had to do with the money that was recently entrusted to you
- but I came near to giving him my word of honour that that
could not be the right explanation.  But now that I see your
incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wish
whatsoever to intercede on your behalf.  And nor is your
position all that secure.  I had originally intended to say
all this to you in private, but since you cause me to waste
my time here for no good reason I don't see why your parents
should not also learn of it.  Your turnover has been very
unsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it's not the time
of year to do especially good business, we recognise that;
but there simply is no time of year to do no business at
all, Mr. Samsa, we cannot allow there to be."

"But Sir", called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all
else in the excitement, "I'll open up immediately, just a
moment.  I'm slightly unwell, an attack of dizziness, I
haven't been able to get up.  I'm still in bed now.  I'm
quite fresh again now, though.  I'm just getting out of bed.
Just a moment.  Be patient!  It's not quite as easy as I'd
thought.  I'm quite alright now, though.  It's shocking,
what can suddenly happen to a person!  I was quite alright
last night, my parents know about it, perhaps better than
me, I had a small symptom of it last night already.  They
must have noticed it.  I don't know why I didn't let you
know at work!  But you always think you can get over an
illness without staying at home.  Please, don't make my
parents suffer!  There's no basis for any of the accusations
you're making; nobody's ever said a word to me about any of
these things.  Maybe you haven't read the latest contracts I
sent in.  I'll set off with the eight o'clock train, as
well, these few hours of rest have given me strength.  You
don't need to wait, sir; I'll be in the office soon after
you, and please be so good as to tell that to the boss and
recommend me to him!"  And while Gregor gushed out these
words, hardly knowing what he was saying, he made his way
over to the chest of drawers - this was easily done,
probably because of the practise he had already had in bed -
where he now tried to get himself upright.  He really did
want to open the door, really did want to let them see him
and to speak with the chief clerk; the others were being so
insistent, and he was curious to learn what they would say
when they caught sight of him.  If they were shocked then it
would no longer be Gregor's responsibility and he could
rest.  If, however, they took everything calmly he would
still have no reason to be upset, and if he hurried he
really could be at the station for eight o'clock.  The first
few times he tried to climb up on the smooth chest of
drawers he just slid down again, but he finally gave himself
one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of
his body was in serious pain but he no longer gave any
attention to it.  Now he let himself fall against the back
of a nearby chair and held tightly to the edges of it with
his little legs.  By now he had also calmed down, and kept
quiet so that he could listen to what the chief clerk was
saying.

"Did you understand a word of all that?" the chief clerk
asked his parents, "surely he's not trying to make fools of
us".  "Oh, God!" called his mother, who was already in
tears, "he could be seriously ill and we're making him
suffer. Grete! Grete!" she then cried.  "Mother?" his sister
called from the other side.  They communicated across
Gregor's room.  "You'll have to go for the doctor straight
away.  Gregor is ill.  Quick, get the doctor.  Did you hear
the way Gregor spoke just now?"
"That was the voice of an animal", said the chief clerk,
with a calmness that was in contrast with his mother's
screams.  "Anna! Anna!" his father called into the kitchen
through the entrance hall, clapping his hands, "get a
locksmith here, now!"  And the two girls, their skirts
swishing, immediately ran out through the hall, wrenching
open the front door of the flat as they went.  How had his
sister managed to get dressed so quickly?  There was no
sound of the door banging shut again; they must have left it
open;  people often do in homes where something awful has
happened.

Gregor, in contrast, had become much calmer.  So they
couldn't understand his words any more, although they seemed
clear enough to him, clearer than before - perhaps his ears
had become used to the sound.  They had realised, though,
that there was something wrong with him, and were ready to
help.  The first response to his situation had been
confident and wise, and that made him feel better.  He felt
that he had been drawn back in among people, and from the
doctor and the locksmith he expected great and surprising
achievements - although he did not really distinguish one
from the other.  Whatever was said next would be crucial,
so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, he
coughed a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly
as even this might well sound different from the way that a
human coughs and he was no longer sure he could judge this
for himself.  Meanwhile, it had become very quiet in the
next room.  Perhaps his parents were sat at the table
whispering with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all
pressed against the door and listening.

Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the
chair.  Once there he let go of it and threw himself onto
the door, holding himself upright against it using the
adhesive on the tips of his legs.  He rested there a little
while to recover from the effort involved and then set
himself to the task of turning the key in the lock with his
mouth.  He seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth -
how was he, then, to grasp the key? - but the lack of teeth
was, of course, made up for with a very strong jaw; using
the jaw, he really was able to start the key turning,
ignoring the fact that he must have been causing some kind
of damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over
the key and dripped onto the floor.

"Listen", said the chief clerk in the next room, "he's
turning the key."  Gregor was greatly encouraged by this;
but they all should have been calling to him, his father and
his mother too: "Well done, Gregor", they should have cried,
"keep at it, keep hold of the lock!"  And with the idea that
they were all excitedly following his efforts, he bit on the
key with all his strength, paying no attention to the pain
he was causing himself.  As the key turned round he turned
around the lock with it, only holding himself upright with
his mouth, and hung onto the key or pushed it down again
with the whole weight of his body as needed.  The clear
sound of the lock as it snapped back was Gregor's sign that
he could break his concentration, and as he regained his
breath he said to himself: "So, I didn't need the locksmith
after all".  Then he lay his head on the handle of the door
to open it completely.

Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already
wide open before he could be seen.  He had first to slowly
turn himself around one of the double doors, and he had to
do it very carefully if he did not want to fall flat on his
back before entering the room.  He was still occupied with
this difficult movement, unable to pay attention to anything
else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim a loud "Oh!",
which sounded like the soughing of the wind.  Now he also
saw him - he was the nearest to the door - his hand pressed
against his open mouth and slowly retreating as if driven by
a steady and invisible force.  Gregor's mother, her hair
still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk's being
there, looked at his father.  Then she unfolded her arms,
took two steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the
floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her
as her head disappeared down onto her breast.  His father
looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting to
knock Gregor back into his room.  Then he looked uncertainly
round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and
wept so that his powerful chest shook.

So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the
inside of the other door which was still held bolted in
place.  In this way only half of his body could be seen,
along with his head above it which he leant over to one side
as he peered out at the others.  Meanwhile the day had
become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black
building on the other side of the street - which was a
hospital - could be seen quite clearly with the austere and
regular line of windows piercing its facade; the rain was
still falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets
which hit the ground one at a time.  The washing up from
breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because,
for Gregor's father, breakfast was the most important meal
of the day and he would stretch it out for several hours as
he sat reading a number of different newspapers.  On the
wall exactly opposite there was photograph of Gregor when he
was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a
carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for
his uniform and bearing.  The door to the entrance hall was
open and as the front door of the flat was also open  he
could see onto the landing and the stairs where they began
their way down below.

"Now, then", said Gregor, well aware that he was the only
one to have kept calm, "I'll get dressed straight away now,
pack up my samples and set off.  Will you please just let me
leave?   You can see", he said to the chief clerk, "that I'm
not stubborn and like I like to do my job; being a
commercial traveller is arduous but without travelling I
couldn't earn my living.  So where are you going, in to the
office? Yes?  Will you report everything accurately, then?
It's quite possible for someone to be temporarily unable to
work, but that's just the right time to remember what's been
achieved in the past and consider that later on, once the
difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all
the more diligence and concentration.  You're well aware
that I'm seriously in debt to our employer as well as having
to look after my parents and my sister, so that I'm trapped
in a difficult situation, but I will work my way out of it
again.  Please don't make things any harder for me than they
are already, and don't take sides against me at the office.
I know that nobody likes the travellers.  They think we earn
an enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it.
That's just prejudice but they have no particular reason to
think better it.  But you, sir, you have a better overview
than the rest of the staff, in fact, if I can say this in
confidence, a better overview than the boss himself - it's
very easy for a businessman like him to make mistakes about
his employees and judge them more harshly than he should.
And you're also well aware that we travellers spend almost
the whole year away from the office, so that we can very
easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless
complaints, and it's almost impossible to defend yourself
from that sort of thing, we don't usually even hear about
them, or if at all it's when we arrive back home exhausted
from a trip, and that's when we feel the harmful effects of
what's been going on without even knowing what caused them.
Please, don't go away, at least first say something to show
that you grant that I'm at least partly right!"

But the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor had
started to speak, and, with protruding lips, only stared
back at him over his trembling shoulders as he left.  He did
not keep still for a moment while Gregor was speaking, but
moved steadily towards the door without taking his eyes off
him.  He moved very gradually, as if there had been some
secret prohibition on leaving the room.  It was only when he
had reached the entrance hall that he made a sudden
movement, drew his foot from the living room, and rushed
forward in a panic.  In the hall, he stretched his right
hand far out towards the stairway as if out there, there
were some supernatural force waiting to save him.

Gregor realised that it was out of the question to let the
chief clerk go away in this mood if his position in the firm
was not to be put into extreme danger.  That was something
his parents did not understand very well; over the years,
they had become convinced that this job would provide for
Gregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to
worry about at present that they had lost sight of any
thought for the future.  Gregor, though, did think about the
future.  The chief clerk had to be held back, calmed down,
convinced and finally won over; the future of Gregor and his
family depended on it!  If only his sister were here!  She
was clever; she was already in tears while Gregor was still
lying peacefully on his back.   And the chief clerk was a
lover of women, surely she could persuade him; she would
close the front door in the entrance hall and talk him out
of his shocked state.  But his sister was not there, Gregor
would have to do the job himself.

And without considering that he still was not familiar with
how well he could move about in his present state, or that
his speech still might not - or probably would not - be
understood, he let go of  the door; pushed himself through
the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing
who, ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both
hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little
scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his
numerous little legs.  Hardly had that happened than, for
the first time that day, he began to feel alright with his
body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to
his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were
even making the effort to carry him where he wanted to go;
and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon be
finally at an end.   He held back the urge to move but
swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the floor.
His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at
first, quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly
jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread
shouting: "Help, for pity's sake, Help!"  The way she held
her head suggested she wanted to see Gregor better, but the
unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed that she
did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her
with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the
table she sat quickly down on it without knowing what she
was doing; without even seeming to notice that the coffee
pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring
down onto the carpet.

"Mother, mother", said Gregor gently, looking up at her.  He
had completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but
could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at
the sight of the flow of coffee.  That set his mother
screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of
his father as he rushed towards her.  Gregor, though, had no
time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had
already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister,
he looked back for the last time.  Gregor made a run for
him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk
must have expected something, as he leapt down several steps
at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all around
the staircase.  The flight of the chief clerk seemed,
unfortunately, to put Gregor's father into a panic as well.
Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now,
instead of running after the chief clerk himself, or at
least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor's
father seized the chief clerk's stick in his right hand (the
chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his
hat and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the
table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into
his room, stamping his foot at him as he went.  Gregor's
appeals to his father were of no help, his appeals were
simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his
head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder.

Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor's mother
had pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed
her hands to her face.  A strong draught of air flew in from
the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the
newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were
blown onto the floor.  Nothing would stop Gregor's father as
he drove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild
man.  Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards
and was only able to go very slowly.  If Gregor had only
been allowed to turn round he would have been back in his
room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the
time to do that his father would become impatient, and there
was the threat of a lethal blow to his back or head from the
stick in his father's hand any moment.  Eventually, though,
Gregor realised that he had no choice as he saw, to his
disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a
straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with
frequent anxious glances at his father, to turn himself
round.  It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able
to see his good intentions as he did nothing to hinder him,
in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give
directions from a distance as to which way to turn.

If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing!  It
was making Gregor quite confused.  When he had nearly
finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, he
made a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he
had just come.  He was pleased when he finally had his head
in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too
narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without
further difficulty.  In his present mood, it obviously did
not occur to his father to open the other of the double
doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get through.
He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got
back into his room as quickly as possible.  Nor would he
ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as
preparation for getting through the doorway.  What he did,
making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregor forwards
all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it
sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father
behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor
pushed himself into the doorway without regard for what
might happen.  One side of his body lifted itself, he lay at
an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door
and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks on it,
soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move
at all by himself, the little legs along one side hung
quivering in the air while those on the other side were
pressed painfully against the ground.  Then his father gave
him a hefty shove from behind which released him from where
he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep
into his room.  The door was slammed shut with the stick,
then, finally, all was quiet.

II


It was not until it was getting dark that evening that
Gregor awoke from his deep and coma-like sleep.   He would
have woken soon afterwards anyway even if he hadn't been
disturbed, as he had had enough sleep and felt fully rested.
But he had the impression that some hurried steps and the
sound of the door leading into the front room being
carefully shut had woken him.  The light from the electric
street lamps shone palely here and there onto the ceiling
and tops of the furniture, but down below, where Gregor was,
it was dark.  He pushed himself over to the door, feeling
his way clumsily with his antennae - of which he was now
beginning to learn the value - in order to see what had been
happening there.  The whole of his left side seemed like
one, painfully stretched scar,  and he limped badly on his
two rows of legs.  One of the legs had been badly injured in
the events of that morning - it was nearly a miracle that
only one of them had been - and dragged along lifelessly.
It was only when he had reached the door that he realised
what it actually was that had drawn him over to it; it was
the smell of something to eat.  By the door there was a dish
filled with sweetened milk with little pieces of white bread
floating in it.  He was so pleased he almost laughed, as he
was even hungrier than he had been that morning, and
immediately dipped his head into the milk, nearly covering
his eyes with it.  But he soon drew his head back again in
disappointment; not only did the pain in his tender left
side make it difficult to eat the food - he was only able to
eat if his whole body worked together as a snuffling whole -
but the milk did not taste at all nice.  Milk like this was
normally his favourite drink, and his sister had certainly
left it there for him because of that, but he turned, almost
against his own will, away from the dish and crawled back
into the centre of the room.

Through the crack in the door, Gregor could see that the gas
had been lit in the living room.  His father at this time
would normally be sat with his evening paper, reading it out
in a loud voice to Gregor's mother, and sometimes to his
sister, but there was now not a sound to be heard. Gregor's
sister would often write and tell him about this reading,
but maybe his father had lost the habit in recent times.  It
was so quiet all around too, even though there must have
been somebody in the flat.  "What a quiet life it is the
family lead", said Gregor to himself, and, gazing into the
darkness, felt a great pride that he was able to provide a
life like that in such a nice home for his sister and
parents.  But what now, if all this peace and wealth and
comfort should come to a horrible and frightening end?  That
was something that Gregor did not want to think about too
much, so he started to move about, crawling up and down the
room.

Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the
room was opened very slightly and hurriedly closed again;
later on the door on the other side did the same; it seemed
that someone needed to enter the room but thought better of
it.  Gregor went and waited immediately by the door,
resolved either to bring the timorous visitor into the room
in some way or at least to find out who it was; but the door
was opened no more that night and Gregor waited in vain.
The previous morning while the doors were locked everyone
had wanted to get in there to him, but now, now that he had
opened up one of the doors and the other had clearly been
unlocked some time during the day, no-one came, and the keys
were in the other sides.

It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the
living room was put out, and now it was easy to see that
parents and sister had stayed awake all that time, as they
all could be distinctly heard as they went away together on
tip-toe.  It was clear that no-one would come into Gregor's
room any more until morning; that gave him plenty of time to
think undisturbed about how he would have to re-arrange his
life.  For some reason, the tall, empty room where he was
forced to remain made him feel uneasy as he lay there flat
on the floor, even though he had been living in it for five
years.  Hardly aware of what he was doing other than a
slight feeling of shame, he hurried under the couch.  It
pressed down on his back a little, and he was no longer able
to lift his head, but he nonetheless felt immediately at
ease and his only regret was that his body was too broad to
get it all underneath.  He spent the whole night there.
Some of the time he passed in a light sleep, although he
frequently woke from it in alarm because of his hunger, and
some of the time was spent in worries and vague hopes which,
however, always led to the same conclusion: for the time
being he must remain calm, he must show patience and the
greatest consideration so that his family could bear the
unpleasantness that he, in his present condition, was forced
to impose on them.

Gregor soon had the opportunity to test the strength of his
decisions, as early the next morning, almost before the
night had ended, his sister, nearly fully dressed, opened
the door from the front room and looked anxiously in.  She
did not see him straight away, but when she did notice him
under the couch - he had to be somewhere, for God's sake, he
couldn't have flown away - she was so shocked that she lost
control of herself and slammed the door shut again from
outside.  But she seemed to regret her behaviour, as she
opened the door again straight away and came in on tip-toe
as if entering the room of someone seriously ill or even of
a stranger.  Gregor had pushed his head forward, right to
the edge of the couch, and watched her.  Would she notice
that he had left the milk as it was, realise that it was not
from any lack of hunger and bring him in some other food
that was more suitable?  If she didn't do it herself he
would rather go hungry than draw her attention to it,
although he did feel a terrible urge to rush forward from
under the couch, throw himself at his sister's feet and beg
her for something good to eat.  However, his sister noticed
the full dish immediately and looked at it and the few drops
of milk splashed around it with some surprise.  She
immediately picked it up - using a rag, not her bare hands -
and carried it out.  Gregor was extremely curious as to what
she would bring in its place, imagining the wildest
possibilities, but he never could have guessed what his
sister, in her goodness, actually did bring.  In order to
test his taste, she brought him a whole selection of things,
all spread out on an old newspaper.  There were old, half-
rotten vegetables; bones from the evening meal, covered in
white sauce that had gone hard; a few raisins and almonds;
some cheese that Gregor had declared inedible two days
before; a dry roll and some bread spread with butter and
salt.  As well as all that she had poured some water into
the dish, which had probably been permanently set aside for
Gregor's use, and placed it beside them.  Then, out of
consideration for Gregor's feelings, as she knew that he
would not eat in front of her, she hurried out again and
even turned the key in the lock so that Gregor would know he
could make things as comfortable for himself as he liked.
Gregor's little legs whirred, at last he could eat. What's
more, his injuries must already have completely healed as he
found no difficulty in moving.  This amazed him, as more
than a month earlier he had cut his finger slightly with a
knife, he thought of how his finger had still hurt the day
before yesterday.

"Am I less sensitive than I used to be, then?", he thought,
and was already sucking greedily at the cheese which had
immediately, almost compellingly, attracted him much more
than the other foods on the newspaper.  Quickly one after
another, his eyes watering with pleasure, he consumed the
cheese, the vegetables and the sauce; the fresh foods, on
the other hand, he didn't like at all, and even dragged the
things he did want to eat a little way away from them
because he couldn't stand the smell.  Long after he had
finished eating and lay lethargic in the same place, his
sister slowly turned the key in the lock as a sign to him
that he should withdraw.  He was immediately startled,
although he had been half asleep, and he hurried back under
the couch.  But he needed great self-control to stay there
even for the short time that his sister was in the room, as
eating so much food had rounded out his body a little and he
could hardly breathe in that narrow space.  Half
suffocating, he watched with bulging eyes as his sister
unselfconsciously took a broom and swept up the left-overs,
mixing them in with the food he had not even touched at all
as if it could not be used any more.  She quickly dropped it
all into a bin, closed it with its wooden lid, and carried
everything out.  She had hardly turned her back before
Gregor came out again from under the couch and stretched
himself.

This was how Gregor received his food each day now, once in
the morning while his parents and the maid were still
asleep, and the second time after everyone had eaten their
meal at midday as his parents would sleep for a little while
then as well, and Gregor's sister would send the maid away
on some errand.  Gregor's father and mother certainly did
not want him to starve either, but perhaps it would have
been more than they could stand to have any more experience
of his feeding than being told about it, and perhaps his
sister wanted to spare them what distress she could as they
were indeed suffering enough.

It was impossible for Gregor to find out what they had told
the doctor and the locksmith that first morning to get them
out of the flat.  As nobody could understand him, nobody,
not even his sister, thought that he could understand them,
so he had to be content to hear his sister's sighs and
appeals to the saints as she moved about his room.  It was
only later, when she had become a little more used to
everything - there was, of course, no question of her ever
becoming fully used to the situation - that Gregor would
sometimes catch a friendly comment, or at least a comment
that could be construed as friendly.   "He's enjoyed his
dinner today", she might say when he had diligently cleared
away all the food left for him, or if he left most of it,
which slowly became more and more frequent, she would often
say, sadly, "now everything's just been left there again".

Although Gregor wasn't able to hear any news directly he did
listen to much of what was said in the next rooms, and
whenever he heard anyone speaking he would scurry straight
to the appropriate door and press his whole body against it.
There was seldom any conversation, especially at first, that
was not about him in some way, even if only in secret.  For
two whole days, all the talk at every mealtime was about
what they should do now; but even between meals they spoke
about the same subject as there were always at least two
members of the family at home - nobody wanted to be at home
by themselves and it was out of the question to leave the
flat entirely empty.  And on the very first day the maid had
fallen to her knees and begged Gregor's mother to let her go
without delay.  It was not very clear how much she knew of
what had happened but she left within a quarter of an hour,
tearfully thanking Gregor's mother for her dismissal as if
she had done her an enormous service.  She even swore
emphatically not to tell anyone the slightest about what had
happened, even though no-one had asked that of her.  Now
Gregor's sister also had to help his mother with the
cooking; although that was not so much bother as no-one ate
very much.  Gregor often heard how one of them would
unsuccessfully urge another to eat, and receive no more
answer than "no thanks, I've had enough" or something
similar.  No-one drank very much either.  His sister would
sometimes ask his father whether he would like a beer,
hoping for the chance to go and fetch it herself.  When his
father then said nothing she would add, so that he would not
feel selfish, that she could send the housekeeper for it,
but then his father would close the matter with a big, loud
"No", and no more would be said.

Even before the first day had come to an end, his father had
explained to Gregor's mother and sister what their finances
and prospects were.  Now and then he stood up from the table
and took some receipt or document from the little cash box
he had saved from his business when it had collapsed five
years earlier.  Gregor heard how he opened the complicated
lock and then closed it again after he had taken the item he
wanted.  What he heard his father say was some of the  first
good news that Gregor heard since he had first been
incarcerated in his room.  He had thought that nothing at
all remained from his father's business, at least he had
never told him anything different, and Gregor had never
asked him about it anyway.  Their business misfortune had
reduced the family to a state of total despair, and Gregor's
only concern at that time had been to arrange things so that
they could all forget about it as quickly as possible.  So
then he started working especially hard, with a fiery vigour
that raised him from a junior salesman to a travelling
representative almost overnight, bringing with it  the
chance to earn money in quite different ways. Gregor
converted his success at work straight into cash that he
could lay on the table at home for the benefit of his
astonished and delighted family.  They had been good times
and they had never come again, at least not with the same
splendour, even though Gregor had later earned so much that
he was in a position to bear the costs of the whole family,
and did bear them.  They had even got used to it, both
Gregor and the family, they took the money with gratitude
and he was glad to provide it, although there was no longer
much warm affection given in return.  Gregor only remained
close to his sister now.  Unlike him, she was very fond of
music and a gifted and expressive violinist, it was his
secret plan to send her to the conservatory next year even
though it would cause great expense that would have to be
made up for in some other way.  During Gregor's short
periods in town, conversation with his sister would often
turn to the conservatory but it was only ever mentioned as a
lovely dream that could never be realised.  Their parents
did not like to hear this innocent talk, but Gregor thought
about it quite hard and decided he would let them know what
he planned with a grand announcement of it on Christmas day.
That was the sort of totally pointless thing that went
through his mind in his present state, pressed upright
against the door and listening.  There were times when he
simply became too tired to continue listening, when his head
would fall wearily against the door and he would pull it up
again with a start, as even the slightest noise he caused
would be heard next door and they would all go silent.
"What's that he's doing now", his father would say after a
while, clearly having gone over to the door, and only then
would the interrupted conversation slowly be taken up again.

When explaining things, his father repeated himself several
times, partly because it was a long time since he had been
occupied with these matters himself and partly because
Gregor's mother did not understand everything first time.
From these repeated explanations Gregor learned, to his
pleasure, that despite all their misfortunes there was still
some money available from the old days.  It was not a lot,
but it had not been touched in the meantime and some
interest had accumulated.  Besides that, they had not been
using up all the money that Gregor had been bringing home
every month, keeping only a little for himself, so that
that, too, had been accumulating.  Behind the door, Gregor
nodded with enthusiasm in his pleasure at this unexpected
thrift and caution.  He could actually have used this
surplus money to reduce his father's debt to his boss, and
the day when he could have freed himself from that job would
have come much closer, but now it was certainly better the
way his father had done things.

This money, however, was certainly not enough to enable the
family to live off the interest; it was enough to maintain
them for, perhaps, one or two years, no more.  That's to
say, it was money that should not really be touched but set
aside for emergencies; money to live on had to be earned.
His father was healthy but old, and lacking in self
confidence.  During the five years that he had not been
working - the first holiday in a life that had been full of
strain and no success -  he had put on a lot of weight and
become very slow and clumsy.  Would Gregor's elderly mother
now have to go and earn money?  She suffered from asthma and
it was a strain for her just to move about the home, every
other day would be spent struggling for breath on the sofa
by the open window.  Would his sister have to go and earn
money?  She was still a child of seventeen, her life up till
then had been very enviable, consisting of wearing nice
clothes, sleeping late, helping out in the business, joining
in with a few modest pleasures and most of all playing the
violin.  Whenever they began to talk of the need to earn
money, Gregor would always first let go of the door and then
throw himself onto the cool, leather sofa next to it, as he
became quite hot with shame and regret.  He would often lie
there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink but
scratching at the leather for hours on end.  Or he might go
to all the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing
up onto the sill and, propped up in the chair, leaning on
the window to stare out of it.  He had used to feel a great
sense of freedom from doing this, but doing it now was
obviously something more remembered than experienced,  as
what he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct
every day, even things that were quite near; he had used to
curse the ever-present view of  the hospital across the
street, but now he could not see it at all, and if he had
not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was a
quiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he
could have thought that he was looking out the window at a
barren waste where the grey sky and the grey earth mingled
inseparably.  His observant sister only needed to notice the
chair twice before she would always push it back to its
exact position by the window after she had tidied up the
room, and even left the inner pane of the window open from
then on.

If Gregor had only been able to speak to his sister and
thank her for all that she had to do for him it would have
been easier for him to bear it; but as it was it caused him
pain.  His sister, naturally, tried as far as possible to
pretend there was nothing burdensome about it, and the
longer it went on, of course, the better she was able to do
so, but as time went by Gregor was also able to see through
it all so much better.  It had even become very unpleasant
for him, now, whenever she entered the room.  No sooner had
she come in than she would quickly close the door as a
precaution so that no-one would have to suffer the view into
Gregor's room, then she would go straight to the window and
pull it hurriedly open almost as if she were suffocating.
Even if it was cold, she would stay at the window breathing
deeply for a little while.  She would alarm Gregor twice a
day with this running about and noise making; he would stay
under the couch shivering the whole while, knowing full well
that she would certainly have liked to spare him this
ordeal, but it was impossible for her to be in the same room
with him with the windows closed.

One day, about a month after Gregor's transformation when
his sister no longer had any particular reason to be shocked
at his appearance, she came into the room a little earlier
than usual and found him still staring out the window,
motionless, and just where he would be most horrible.  In
itself, his sister's not coming into the room would have
been no surprise for Gregor as it would have been difficult
for her to immediately open the window while he was still
there, but not only did she not come in, she went straight
back and closed the door behind her, a stranger would have
thought he had threatened her and tried to bite her.  Gregor
went straight to hide himself under the couch, of course,
but he had to wait until midday before his sister came back
and she seemed much more uneasy than usual.  It made him
realise that she still found his appearance unbearable and
would continue to do so, she probably even had to overcome
the urge to flee when she saw the little bit of him that
protruded from under the couch.  One day, in order to spare
her even this sight, he spent four hours carrying the
bedsheet over to the couch on his back and arranged it so
that he was completely covered and his sister would not be
able to see him even if she bent down.  If she did not think
this sheet was necessary then all she had to do was take it
off again, as it was clear enough that it was no pleasure
for Gregor to cut himself off so completely.  She left the
sheet where it was.  Gregor even thought he glimpsed a look
of gratitude one time when he carefully looked out from
under the sheet to see how his sister liked the new
arrangement.

For the first fourteen days, Gregor's parents could not
bring themselves to come into the room to see him.  He would
often hear them say how they appreciated all the new work
his sister was doing even though, before, they had seen her
as a girl who was somewhat useless and frequently been
annoyed with her.  But now the two of them, father and
mother, would often both wait outside the door of Gregor's
room while his sister tidied up in there, and as soon as she
went out again she would have to tell them exactly how
everything looked, what Gregor had eaten, how he had behaved
this time and whether, perhaps, any slight improvement could
be seen.  His mother also wanted to go in and visit Gregor
relatively soon but his father and sister at first persuaded
her against it.  Gregor listened very closely to all this,
and approved fully.  Later, though, she had to be held back
by force, which made her call out: "Let me go and see
Gregor, he is my unfortunate son!  Can't you understand I
have to see him?", and Gregor would think to himself that
maybe it would be better if his mother came in, not every
day of course, but one day a week, perhaps; she could
understand everything much better than his sister who, for
all her courage, was still just a child after all, and
really might not have had an adult's appreciation of the
burdensome job she had taken on.

 Gregor's wish to see his mother was soon realised.  Out of
consideration for his parents, Gregor wanted to avoid being
seen at the window during the day, the few square meters of
the floor did not give him much room to crawl about, it was
hard to just lie quietly through the night, his food soon
stopped giving him any pleasure at all, and so, to entertain
himself, he got into the habit of crawling up and down the
walls and ceiling.  He was especially fond of hanging from
the ceiling; it was quite different from lying on the floor;
he could breathe more freely; his body had a light swing to
it; and up there, relaxed and almost happy, it might happen
that he would surprise even himself by letting go of the
ceiling and landing on the floor with a crash.  But now, of
course, he had far better control of his body than before
and, even with a fall as great as that, caused himself no
damage.  Very soon his sister noticed Gregor's new way of
entertaining himself - he had, after all, left traces of the
adhesive from his feet as he crawled about - and got it into
her head to make it as easy as possible for him by removing
the furniture that got in his way, especially the chest of
drawers and the desk.

Now, this was not something that she would be able to do by
herself; she did not dare to ask for help from her father;
the sixteen year old maid had carried on bravely since the
cook had left but she certainly would not have helped in
this, she had even asked to be allowed to keep the kitchen
locked at all times and never to have to open the door
unless it was especially important; so his sister had no
choice but to choose some time when Gregor's father was not
there and fetch his mother to help her.  As she approached
the room, Gregor could hear his mother express her joy, but
once at the door she went silent.  First, of course, his
sister came in and looked round to see that everything in
the room was alright; and only then did she let her mother
enter.  Gregor had hurriedly pulled the sheet down lower
over the couch and put more folds into it so that everything
really looked as if it had just been thrown down by chance.
Gregor also refrained, this time, from spying out from under
the sheet; he gave up the chance to see his mother until
later and was simply glad that she had come.  "You can come
in, he can't be seen", said his sister, obviously leading
her in by the hand.  The old chest of drawers was too heavy
for a pair of feeble women to be heaving about, but Gregor
listened as they pushed it from its place, his sister always
taking on the heaviest part of the work for herself and
ignoring her mother's warnings that she would strain
herself.  This lasted a very long time.  After labouring at
it for fifteen minutes or more his mother said it would be
better to leave the chest where it was, for one thing it was
too heavy for them to get the job finished before Gregor's
father got home and leaving it in the middle of the room it
would be in his way even more, and for another thing it
wasn't even sure that taking the furniture away would really
be any help to him.  She thought just the opposite; the
sight of the bare walls saddened her right to her heart; and
why wouldn't Gregor feel the same way about it, he'd been
used to this furniture in his room for a long time and it
would make him feel abandoned to be in an empty room like
that.

Then, quietly, almost whispering as if wanting Gregor (whose
whereabouts she did not know) to hear not even the tone of
her voice, as she was convinced that he did not understand
her words, she added "and by taking the furniture away,
won't it seem like we're showing that we've given up all
hope of improvement and we're abandoning him to cope for
himself?  I think it'd be best to leave the room exactly the
way it was before so that when Gregor comes back to us again
he'll find everything unchanged and he'll be able to forget
the time in between all the easier".

Hearing these words from his mother made Gregor realise that
the lack of any direct human communication, along with the
monotonous life led by the family during these two months,
must have made him confused - he could think of no other way
of explaining to himself why he had seriously wanted his
room emptied out.  Had he really wanted to transform his
room into a cave, a warm room fitted out with the nice
furniture he had inherited?  That would have let him crawl
around unimpeded in any direction, but it would also have
let him quickly forget his past when he had still been
human.  He had come very close to forgetting, and it had
only been the voice of his mother, unheard for so long, that
had shaken him out of it.  Nothing should be removed;
everything had to stay; he could not do without the good
influence the furniture had on his condition; and if the
furniture made it difficult for him to crawl about
mindlessly that was not a loss but a great advantage.

His sister, unfortunately, did not agree; she had become
used to the idea, not without reason, that she was Gregor's
spokesman to his parents about the things that concerned
him.  This meant that his mother's advice now was sufficient
reason for her to insist on removing not only the chest of
drawers and the desk, as she had thought at first, but all
the furniture apart from the all-important couch.  It was
more than childish perversity, of course, or the unexpected
confidence she had recently acquired, that made her insist;
she had indeed noticed that Gregor needed a lot of room to
crawl about in, whereas the furniture, as far as anyone
could see, was of no use to him at all.

Girls of that age, though, do become enthusiastic about
things and feel they must get their way whenever they can.
Perhaps this was what tempted Grete to make Gregor's
situation seem even more shocking than it was so that she
could do even more for him.  Grete would probably be the
only one who would dare enter a room dominated by Gregor
crawling about the bare walls by himself.  So she refused to
let her mother dissuade her.  Gregor's mother already looked
uneasy in his room, she soon stopped speaking and helped
Gregor's sister to get the chest of drawers out with what
strength she had.  The chest of drawers was something that
Gregor could do without if he had to, but the writing desk
had to stay.  Hardly had the two women pushed the chest of
drawers, groaning, out of the room than Gregor poked his
head out from under the couch to see what he could do about
it.  He meant to be as careful and considerate as he could,
but, unfortunately, it was his mother who came back first
while Grete in the next room had her arms round the chest,
pushing and pulling at it from side to side by herself
without, of course, moving it an inch.  His mother was not
used to the sight of Gregor, he might have made her ill, so
Gregor hurried backwards to the far end of the couch.  In
his startlement, though, he was not able to prevent the
sheet at its front from moving a little.  It was enough to
attract his mother's attention.  She stood very still,
remained there a moment, and then went back out to Grete.

Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual
was happening, it was just a few pieces of furniture being
moved after all, but he soon had to admit that the women
going to and fro, their little calls to each other, the
scraping of the furniture on the floor, all these things
made him feel as if  he were being assailed from all sides.
With his head and legs pulled in against him and his body
pressed to the floor, he was forced to admit to himself that
he could not stand all of this much longer.  They were
emptying his room out; taking away everything that was dear
to him; they had already taken out the chest containing his
fretsaw and other tools; now they threatened to remove the
writing desk with its place clearly worn into the floor, the
desk where he had done his homework as a business trainee,
at high school, even while he had been at infant school - he
really could not wait any longer to see whether the two
women's intentions were good. He had nearly forgotten they
were there anyway, as they were now too tired to say
anything while they worked and he could only hear their feet
as they stepped heavily on the floor.

So, while the women were leant against the desk in the other
room catching their breath, he sallied out, changed
direction four times not knowing what he should save first
before his attention was suddenly caught by the picture on
the wall - which was already denuded of everything else that
had been on it - of the lady dressed in copious fur.   He
hurried up onto the picture and pressed himself against its
glass, it held him firmly and felt good on his hot belly.
This picture at least, now totally covered by Gregor, would
certainly be taken away by no-one.  He turned his head to
face the door into the living room so that he could watch
the women when they came back.

They had not allowed themselves a long rest and came back
quite soon; Grete had put her arm around her mother and was
nearly carrying her.  "What shall we take now, then?", said
Grete and looked around.  Her eyes met those of Gregor on
the wall.  Perhaps only because her mother was there, she
remained calm, bent her face to her so that she would not
look round and said, albeit hurriedly and with a tremor in
her voice: "Come on, let's go back in the living room for a
while?"  Gregor could see what Grete had in mind, she wanted
to take her mother somewhere safe and then chase him down
from the wall.  Well, she could certainly try it!  He sat
unyielding on his picture.  He would rather jump at Grete's
face.

But Grete's words had made her mother quite worried, she
stepped to one side, saw the enormous brown patch against
the flowers of the wallpaper, and before she even realised
it was Gregor that she saw screamed: "Oh God, oh God!"  Arms
outstretched, she fell onto the couch as if she had given up
everything and stayed there immobile.  "Gregor!" shouted his
sister, glowering at him and shaking her fist.  That was the
first word she had spoken to him directly since his
transformation.  She ran into the other room to fetch some
kind of smelling salts to bring her mother out of her faint;
Gregor wanted to help too - he could save his picture later,
although he stuck fast to the glass and had to pull himself
off by force; then he, too, ran into the next room as if he
could advise his sister like in the old days; but he had to
just stand behind her doing nothing; she was looking into
various bottles, he startled her when she turned round; a
bottle fell to the ground and broke; a splinter cut Gregor's
face, some kind of caustic medicine splashed all over him;
now, without delaying any longer, Grete took hold of all the
bottles she could and ran with them in to her mother; she
slammed the door shut with her foot.  So now Gregor was shut
out from his mother, who, because of him, might be near to
death; he could not open the door if he did not want to
chase his sister away, and she had to stay with his mother;
there was nothing for him to do but wait; and, oppressed
with anxiety and self-reproach, he began to crawl about, he
crawled over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and
finally in his confusion as the whole room began to spin
around him he fell down into the middle of the dinner table.

He lay there for a while, numb and immobile, all around him
it was quiet, maybe that was a good sign.  Then there was
someone at the door.  The maid, of course, had locked
herself in her kitchen so that Grete would have to go and
answer it.  His father had arrived home.  "What's happened?"
were his first words; Grete's appearance must have made
everything clear to him.  She answered him with subdued
voice, and openly pressed her face into his chest: "Mother's
fainted, but she's better now. Gregor got out."  "Just as I
expected", said his father, "just as I always said, but you
women wouldn't listen, would you."

It was clear to Gregor that Grete had not said enough and
that his father took it to mean that something bad had
happened, that he was responsible for some act of violence.
That meant Gregor would now have to try to calm his father,
as he did not have the time to explain things to him even if
that had been possible.  So he fled to the door of his room
and pressed himself against it so that his father, when he
came in from the hall, could see straight away that Gregor
had the best intentions and would go back into his room
without delay, that it would not be necessary to drive him
back but that they had only to open the door and he would
disappear.

His father, though, was not in the mood to notice subtleties
like that; "Ah!", he shouted as he came in, sounding as if
he were both angry and glad at the same time.  Gregor drew
his head back from the door and lifted it towards his
father.  He really had not imagined his father the way he
stood there now; of late, with his new habit of crawling
about, he had neglected to pay attention to what was going
on the rest of the flat the way he had done before.  He
really ought to have expected things to have changed, but
still, still, was that really his father?  The same tired
man as used to be laying there entombed in his bed when
Gregor came back from his business trips, who would receive
him sitting in the armchair in his nightgown when he came
back in the evenings; who was hardly even able to stand up
but, as a sign of his pleasure, would just raise his arms
and who, on the couple of times a year when they went for a
walk together on a Sunday or public holiday wrapped up
tightly in his overcoat between Gregor and his mother, would
always labour his way forward a little more slowly than
them, who were already walking slowly for his sake; who
would place his stick down carefully and, if he wanted to
say something would invariably stop and gather his
companions around him.

He was standing up straight enough now; dressed in a smart
blue uniform with gold buttons, the sort worn by the
employees at the banking institute; above the high, stiff
collar of the coat his strong double-chin emerged; under the
bushy eyebrows, his piercing, dark eyes looked out fresh and
alert; his normally unkempt white hair was combed down
painfully close to his scalp.  He took his cap, with its
gold monogram from, probably, some bank, and threw it in an
arc right across the room onto the sofa, put his hands in
his trouser pockets, pushing back the bottom of his long
uniform coat, and, with look of determination, walked
towards Gregor.

He probably did not even know himself what he had in mind,
but nonetheless lifted his feet unusually high.  Gregor was
amazed at the enormous size of the soles of his boots, but
wasted no time with that - he knew full well, right from the
first day of his new life, that his father thought it
necessary to always be extremely strict with him.  And so he
ran up to his father, stopped when his father stopped,
scurried forwards again when he moved, even slightly.  In
this way they went round the room several times without
anything decisive happening, without even giving the
impression of a chase as everything went so slowly.  Gregor
remained all this time on the floor, largely because he
feared his father might see it as especially provoking if he
fled onto the wall or ceiling.  Whatever he did, Gregor had
to admit that he certainly would not be able to keep up this
running about for long, as for each step his father took he
had to carry out countless movements.  He became noticeably
short of breath, even in his earlier life his lungs had not
been very reliable.  Now, as he lurched about in his efforts
to muster all the strength he could for running he could
hardly keep his eyes open; his thoughts became too slow for
him to think of any other way of saving himself than
running; he almost forgot that the walls were there for him
to use although, here, they were concealed behind carefully
carved furniture full of notches and protrusions - then,
right beside him, lightly tossed, something flew down and
rolled in front of him.  It was an apple; then another one
immediately flew at him; Gregor froze in shock; there was no
longer any point in running as his father had decided to
bombard him.  He had filled his pockets with fruit from the
bowl on the sideboard and now, without even taking the time
for careful aim, threw one apple after another.  These
little, red apples rolled about on the floor, knocking into
each other as if they had electric motors.  An apple thrown
without much force glanced against Gregor's back and slid
off without doing any harm.  Another one however,
immediately following it, hit squarely and lodged in his
back; Gregor wanted to drag himself away, as if he could
remove the surprising, the incredible pain by changing his
position; but he felt as if nailed to the spot and spread
himself out, all his senses in confusion.  The last thing he
saw was the door of his room being pulled open, his sister
was screaming, his mother ran out in front of her in her
blouse (as his sister had taken off some of her clothes
after she had fainted to make it easier for her to breathe),
she ran to his father, her skirts unfastened and sliding one
after another to the ground, stumbling over the skirts she
pushed herself to his father, her arms around him, uniting
herself with him totally - now Gregor lost his ability to
see anything - her hands behind his father's head begging
him to spare Gregor's life.

III



No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor's flesh,
so it remained there as a visible reminder of his injury.
He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his
condition seemed serious enough to remind even his father
that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was
a family member who could not be treated as an enemy.  On
the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any
revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.
Because of his injuries, Gregor had lost much of his
mobility - probably permanently.  He had been reduced to the
condition of an ancient invalid and it took him long, long
minutes to crawl across his room - crawling over the ceiling
was out of the question - but this deterioration in his
condition was fully (in his opinion) made up for by the door
to the living room being left open every evening.  He got
into the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours
before it was opened and then, lying in the darkness of his
room where he could not be seen from the living room, he
could watch the family in the light of the dinner table and
listen to their conversation -  with everyone's permission,
in a way, and thus quite differently from before.

They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier
times, of course, the ones that Gregor always thought about
with longing when he was tired and getting into the damp bed
in some small hotel room.  All of them were usually very
quiet nowadays.  Soon after dinner, his father would go to
sleep in his chair; his mother and sister would urge each
other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply under the lamp,
would sew fancy underwear for a fashion shop; his sister,
who had taken a sales job, learned shorthand and French in
the evenings so that she might be able to get a better
position later on.  Sometimes his father would wake up and
say to Gregor's mother "you're doing so much sewing again
today!", as if he did not know that he had been dozing - and
then he would go back to sleep again while mother and sister
would exchange a tired grin.  With a kind of stubbornness,
Gregor's father refused to take his uniform off even at
home; while his nightgown hung unused on its peg Gregor's
father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as if
always ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his
superior even here.  The uniform had not been new to start
with, but as a result of this it slowly became even shabbier
despite the efforts of Gregor's mother and sister to look
after it.  Gregor would often spend the whole evening
looking at all the stains on this coat, with its gold
buttons always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in
it would sleep, highly uncomfortable but peaceful.

As soon as it struck ten, Gregor's mother would speak gently
to his father to wake him and try to persuade him to go to
bed, as he couldn't sleep properly where he was and he
really had to get his sleep if he was to be up at six to get
to work.  But since he had been in work he had become more
obstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the
table, even though he regularly fell asleep and it was then
harder than ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for
his bed.  Then, however much mother and sister would
importune him with little reproaches and warnings he would
keep slowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour with
his eyes closed and refusing to get up.  Gregor's mother
would tug at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear,
Gregor's sister would leave her work to help her mother, but
nothing would have any effect on him.  He would just sink
deeper into his chair.  Only when the two women took him
under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, look at them
one after the other and say: "What a life!  This is what
peace I get in my old age!"  And supported by the two women
he would lift himself up carefully as if he were carrying
the greatest load himself, let the women take him to the
door, send them off and carry on by himself while Gregor's
mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so
that they could run after his father and continue being of
help to him.

Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had
time to give more attention to Gregor than was absolutely
necessary?  The household budget became even smaller; so now
the maid was dismissed; an enormous, thick-boned charwoman
with white hair that flapped around her head came every
morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else
was looked after by Gregor's mother on top of the large
amount of sewing work she did.  Gregor even learned,
listening to the evening conversation about what price they
had hoped for, that several items of jewellery belonging to
the family had been  sold, even though both mother and
sister had been very fond of wearing them at functions and
celebrations.  But the loudest complaint was that although
the flat was much too big for their present circumstances,
they could not move out of it, there was no imaginable way
of transferring Gregor to the new address.  He could see
quite well, though, that there were more reasons than
consideration for him that made it difficult for them to
move, it would have been quite easy to transport him in any
suitable crate with a few air holes in it; the main thing
holding the family back from their decision to move was much
more to do with their total despair, and the thought that
they had been struck with a misfortune unlike anything
experienced by anyone else they knew or were related to.

They carried out absolutely everything that the world
expects from poor people, Gregor's father brought bank
employees their breakfast, his mother sacrificed herself by
washing clothes for strangers, his sister ran back and forth
behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they
just did not have the strength to do any more.  And the
injury in Gregor's back began to hurt as much as when it was
new.  After they had come back from taking his father to bed
Gregor's mother and sister would now leave their work where
it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his mother
would point to Gregor's room and say "Close that door,
Grete", and then, when he was in the dark again, they would
sit in the next room and their tears would mingle, or they
would simply sit there staring dry-eyed at the table.

Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day.  Sometimes
he would think of taking over the family's affairs, just
like before, the next time the door was opened; he had long
forgotten about his boss and the chief clerk, but they would
appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen and the
apprentices, that stupid teaboy, two or three friends from
other businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial
hotel, a tender memory that appeared and disappeared again,
a cashier from a hat shop for whom his attention had been
serious but too slow, - all of them appeared to him, mixed
together with strangers and others he had forgotten, but
instead of helping him and his family they were all of them
inaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared.

Other times he was not at all in the mood to look after his
family, he was filled with simple rage about the lack of
attention he was shown, and although he could think of
nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he could
get into the pantry where he could take all the things he
was entitled to, even if he was not hungry.  Gregor's sister
no longer thought about how she could please him but would
hurriedly push some food or other into his room with her
foot before she rushed out to work in the morning and at
midday, and in the evening she would sweep it away again
with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had been eaten
or - more often than not - had been left totally untouched.
She still cleared up the room in the evening, but now she
could not have been any quicker about it.  Smears of dirt
were left on the walls, here and there were little balls of
dust and filth.  At first, Gregor went into one of the worst
of these places when his sister arrived as a reproach to
her, but he could have stayed there for weeks without his
sister doing anything about it; she could see the dirt as
well as he could but she had simply decided to leave him to
it.

At the same time she became touchy in a way that was quite
new for her and which everyone in the family understood -
cleaning up Gregor's room was for her and her alone.
Gregor's mother did once thoroughly clean his room, and
needed to use several bucketfuls of water to do it -
although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he lay
flat on the couch, bitter and immobile.  But his mother was
to be punished still more for what she had done, as hardly
had his sister arrived home in the evening than she noticed
the change in Gregor's room and, highly aggrieved, ran back
into the living room where, despite her mothers raised and
imploring hands, she broke into convulsive tears.  Her
father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two
parents looked on astonished and helpless; then they, too,
became agitated; Gregor's father, standing to the right of
his mother, accused her of not leaving the cleaning of
Gregor's room to his sister; from her left, Gregor's sister
screamed at her that she  was never to clean Gregor's room
again; while his mother tried to draw his father, who was
beside himself with anger, into the bedroom; his sister,
quaking with tears, thumped on the table with her small
fists; and Gregor hissed in anger that no-one had even
thought of closing the door to save him the sight of this
and all its noise.

Gregor's sister was exhausted from going out to work, and
looking after Gregor as she had done before was even more
work for her, but even so his mother ought certainly not to
have taken her place.  Gregor, on the other hand, ought not
to be neglected.  Now, though, the charwoman was here.  This
elderly widow, with a robust bone structure that made her
able to withstand the hardest of things in her long life,
wasn't really repelled by Gregor.  Just by chance one day,
rather than any real curiosity, she opened the door to
Gregor's room and found herself face to face with him.  He
was taken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing him but he
began to rush to and fro while she just stood there in
amazement with her hands crossed in front of her.  From then
on she never failed to open the door slightly every evening
and morning and look briefly in on him.  At first she would
call to him as she did so with words that she probably
considered friendly, such as "come on then, you old dung-
beetle!", or "look at the old dung-beetle there!"  Gregor
never responded to being spoken to in that way, but just
remained where he was without moving as if the door had
never even been opened.  If only they had told this
charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of letting
her disturb him for no reason whenever she felt like it!
One day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck the
windowpanes, perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she
began to speak to him in that way once again.  Gregor was so
resentful of it that he started to move toward her, he was
slow and infirm, but it was like a kind of attack.  Instead
of being afraid, the charwoman just lifted up one of the
chairs from near the door and stood there with her mouth
open, clearly intending not to close her mouth until the
chair in her hand had been slammed down into Gregor's back.
"Aren't you coming any closer, then?", she asked when Gregor
turned round again, and she calmly put the chair back in the
corner.

Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating.  Only if he
happened to find himself next to the food that had been
prepared for him he might take some of it into his mouth to
play with it, leave it there a few hours and then, more
often than not, spit it out again.  At first he thought it
was distress at the state of his room that stopped him
eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there.
They had got into the habit of putting things into this room
that they had room for anywhere else, and there were now
many such things as one of the rooms in the flat had been
rented out to three gentlemen.  These earnest gentlemen -
all three of them had full beards, as Gregor learned peering
through the crack in the door one day - were painfully
insistent on things' being tidy.  This meant not only in
their own room but, since they had taken a room in this
establishment, in the entire flat and especially in the
kitchen.  Unnecessary clutter was something they could not
tolerate, especially if it was dirty.  They had moreover
brought most of their own furnishings and equipment with
them.  For this reason, many things had become superfluous
which, although they could not be sold, the family did not
wish to discard.  All these things found their way into
Gregor's room.  The dustbins from the kitchen found their
way in there too.  The charwoman was always in a hurry, and
anything she couldn't use for the time being she would just
chuck in there.  He, fortunately, would usually see no more
than the object and the hand that held it.  The woman most
likely meant to fetch the things back out again when she had
time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one
go, but what actually happened was that they were left where
they landed when they had first been thrown unless Gregor
made his way through the junk and moved it somewhere else.
At first he moved it because, with no other room free where
he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later on he came
to enjoy it although moving about in the way left him sad
and tired to death and he would remain immobile for hours
afterwards.

The gentlemen who rented the room would sometimes take their
evening meal at home in the living room that was used by
everyone, and so the door to this room was often kept closed
in the evening.   But Gregor found it easy to give up having
the door open, he had, after all, often failed to make use
of it when it was open and, without the family having
noticed it, lain in his room in its darkest corner.  One
time, though, the charwoman left the door to the living room
slightly open, and it remained open when the gentlemen who
rented the room came in in the evening and the light was put
on.  They sat up at the table where, formerly, Gregor had
taken his meals with his father and mother, they unfolded
the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks.
Gregor's mother immediately appeared in the doorway with a
dish of meat and soon behind her came his sister with a dish
piled high with potatoes.  The food was steaming, and filled
the room with its smell.  The gentlemen bent over the dishes
set in front of them as if they wanted to test the food
before eating it, and the gentleman in the middle, who
seemed to count as an authority for the other two, did
indeed cut off a piece of meat while it was still in its
dish, clearly wishing to establish whether it was
sufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to the
kitchen.  It was to his satisfaction, and Gregor's mother
and sister, who had been looking on anxiously, began to
breathe again and smiled.

The family themselves ate in the kitchen.  Nonetheless,
Gregor's father came into the living room before he went
into the kitchen, bowed once with his cap in his hand and
did his round of the table.  The gentlemen stood as one, and
mumbled something into their beards.  Then, once they were
alone, they ate in near perfect silence.  It seemed
remarkable to Gregor that above all the various noises of
eating their chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they
had wanted to Show Gregor that you need teeth in order to
eat and it was not possible to perform anything with jaws
that are toothless however nice they might be.  "I'd like to
eat something", said Gregor anxiously, "but not anything
like they're eating.  They do feed themselves.  And here I
am, dying!"

Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having
heard the violin being played, but this evening it began to
be heard from the kitchen.  The three gentlemen had already
finished their meal, the one in the middle had produced a
newspaper, given a page to each of the others, and now they
leant back in their chairs reading them and smoking.  When
the violin began playing they became attentive, stood up and
went on tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they
stood pressed against each other.  Someone must have heard
them in the kitchen, as Gregor's father called out: "Is the
playing perhaps unpleasant for the gentlemen?  We can stop
it straight away."

"On the contrary", said the middle gentleman, "would the young lady
not like to come in and play for us here in the room, where it is,
after all, much more cosy and comfortable?"  "Oh yes, we'd love to",
called back Gregor's father as if he had been the violin player
himself.  The gentlemen stepped back into the room and waited.
Gregor's father soon appeared with the music stand, his mother with
the music and his sister with the violin.  She calmly prepared
everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who had never rented
a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy towards
the three gentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own chairs; his
father leant against the door with his right hand pushed in between
two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered a
seat by one of the gentlemen and sat - leaving the chair where the
gentleman happened to have placed it - out of the way in a corner.

His sister began to play; father and mother paid close
attention, one on each side, to the movements of her hands.
Drawn in by the playing, Gregor had dared to come forward a
little and already had his head in the living room. Before,
he had taken great pride in how considerate he was but now
it hardly occurred to him that he had become so thoughtless
about the others.  What's more, there was now all the  more
reason to keep himself hidden as he was covered in the dust
that lay everywhere in his room and flew up at the slightest
movement; he carried threads, hairs, and remains of food
about on his back and sides; he was much too indifferent to
everything now to lay on his back and wipe himself on the
carpet like he had used to do several times a day.  And
despite this condition, he was not too shy to move forward a
little onto the immaculate floor of the living room.

No-one noticed him, though.  The family was totally
preoccupied with the violin playing; at first, the three
gentlemen had put their hands in their pockets and come up
far too close behind the music stand to look at all the
notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor's
sister, but soon, in contrast with the family, they
withdrew back to the window with their heads sunk and
talking to each other at half volume, and they stayed by the
window while Gregor's father observed them anxiously.  It
really now seemed very obvious that they had expected to
hear some beautiful or entertaining violin playing but had
been disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole
performance and it was only now out of politeness that they
allowed their peace to be disturbed.   It was especially
unnerving, the way they all blew the smoke from their
cigarettes upwards from their mouth and noses.  Yet Gregor's
sister was playing so beautifully.  Her face was leant to
one side, following the lines of music with a careful and
melancholy expression.  Gregor crawled a little further
forward, keeping his head close to the ground so that he
could meet her eyes if the chance came.  Was he an animal if
music could captivate him so?  It seemed to him that he was
being shown the way to the unknown nourishment he had been
yearning for.  He was determined to make his way forward to
his sister and tug at her skirt to show her she might come
into his room with her violin, as no-one appreciated her
playing here as much as he would.  He never wanted to let
her out of his room, not while he lived, anyway; his
shocking appearance should, for once, be of some use to him;
he wanted to be at every door of his room at once to hiss
and spit at the attackers; his sister should not be forced
to stay with him, though, but stay of her own free will; she
would sit beside him on the couch with her ear bent down to
him while he told her how he had always intended to send her
to the conservatory, how he would have told everyone about
it last Christmas - had Christmas really come and gone
already? - if this misfortune hadn't got in the way, and
refuse to let anyone dissuade him from it.  On hearing all
this, his sister would break out in tears of emotion, and
Gregor would climb up to her shoulder and kiss her neck,
which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept
free without any necklace or collar.

"Mr. Samsa!", shouted the middle gentleman to Gregor's
father, pointing, without wasting any more words, with his
forefinger at Gregor as he slowly moved forward.  The violin
went silent, the middle of the three gentlemen first smiled
at his two friends, shaking his head, and then looked back
at Gregor.  His father seemed to think it more important to
calm the three gentlemen before driving Gregor out, even
though they were not at all upset and seemed to think Gregor
was more entertaining that the violin playing had been.  He
rushed up to them with his arms spread out and attempted to
drive them back into their room at the same time as trying
to block their view of Gregor with his body.  Now they did
become a little annoyed, and it was not clear whether it was
his father's behaviour that annoyed them or the dawning
realisation that they had had a neighbour like Gregor in the
next room without knowing it.  They asked Gregor's father
for explanations, raised their arms like he had, tugged
excitedly at heir beards and moved back towards their room
only very slowly.  Meanwhile Gregor's sister had overcome
the despair she had fallen into when her playing was
suddenly interrupted.  She had let her hands drop and let
violin and bow hang limply for a while but continued to look
at the music as if still playing, but then she suddenly
pulled herself together, lay the instrument on her mother's
lap who still sat laboriously struggling for breath where
she was, and ran into the next room which, under pressure
from her father, the three gentlemen were more quickly
moving toward.  Under his sister's experienced hand, the
pillows and covers on the beds flew up and were put into
order and she had already finished making the beds and
slipped out again before the three gentlemen had reached the
room.  Gregor's father seemed so obsessed with what he was
doing that he forgot all the respect he owed to his tenants.
He urged them and pressed them until, when he was already at
the door of the room, the middle of the three gentlemen
shouted like thunder and stamped his foot and thereby
brought Gregor's father to a halt.  "I declare here and
now", he said, raising his hand and glancing at Gregor's
mother and sister to gain their attention too, "that with
regard to the repugnant conditions that prevail in this flat
and with this family" - here he looked briefly but
decisively at the floor - "I give immediate notice on my
room.  For the days that I have been living here I will, of
course, pay nothing at all, on the contrary I will consider
whether to proceed with some kind of action for damages from
you, and believe me it would be very easy to set out the
grounds for such an action."  He was silent and looked
straight ahead as if waiting for something.  And indeed, his
two friends joined in with the words: "And we also give
immediate notice."  With that, he took hold of the door
handle and slammed the door.

Gregor's father staggered back to his seat, feeling his way
with his hands, and fell into it; it looked as if he was
stretching himself out for his usual evening nap but from
the uncontrolled way his head kept nodding it could be seen
that he was not sleeping at all.  Throughout all this,
Gregor had lain still where the three gentlemen had first
seen him.  His disappointment at the failure of his plan,
and perhaps also because he was weak from hunger, made it
impossible for him to move.  He was sure that everyone would
turn on him any moment, and he waited.  He was not even
startled out of this state when the violin on his mother's
lap fell from her trembling fingers and landed loudly on the
floor.

"Father, Mother", said his sister, hitting the table with
her hand as introduction, "we can't carry on like this.
Maybe you can't see it, but I can.  I don't want to call
this monster my brother, all I can say is: we have to try
and get rid of it.  We've done all that's humanly possible
to look after it and be patient, I don't think anyone could
accuse us of doing anything wrong."  "She's absolutely
right", said Gregor's father to himself.  His mother, who
still had not had time to catch her breath, began to cough
dully, her hand held out in front of her and a deranged
expression in her eyes.

Gregor's sister rushed to his mother and put her hand on her
forehead.  Her words seemed to give Gregor's father some
more definite ideas.  He sat upright, played with his
uniform cap between the plates left by the three gentlemen
after their meal, and occasionally looked down at Gregor as
he lay there immobile.

"We have to try and get rid of it", said Gregor's sister,
now speaking only to her father, as her mother was too
occupied with coughing to listen, "it'll be the death of
both of you, I can see it coming.  We can't all work as hard
as we have to and then come home to be tortured like this,
we can't endure it.  I can't endure it any more."  And she
broke out so heavily in tears that they flowed down the face
of her mother, and she wiped them away with mechanical hand
movements.  "My child", said her father with sympathy and
obvious understanding, "what are we to do?"  His sister just
shrugged her shoulders as a sign of the helplessness that
had taken hold of her, displacing her earlier certainly when
she had broken into tears.

"If he could just understand us", said his father almost as
a question; his sister shook her hand vigorously through her
tears as a sign that of that there was no question.

"If he could just understand us", repeated Gregor's father,
closing his eyes in acceptance of his sister's certainty
that that was quite impossible, "then perhaps we could come
to some kind of arrangement with him.  But as it is ..."

"It's got to go", shouted his sister, "that's the only way,
Father.  You've got to get rid of the idea that that's
Gregor.  We've only harmed ourselves by believing it for so
long.  How can that be Gregor?  If it were Gregor he would
have seen long ago that it's not possible for human beings
to live with an animal like that and he would have gone of
his own free will.  We wouldn't have a brother any more,
then, but we could carry on with our lives and remember him
with respect.  As it is this animal is persecuting us, it's
driven out our tenants, it obviously wants to take over the
whole flat and force us to sleep on the streets.  Father,
look, just look", she suddenly screamed, "he's starting
again!"   In her alarm, which was totally beyond Gregor's
comprehension, his sister even abandoned his mother as she
pushed herself vigorously out of her chair as if more
willing to sacrifice her own mother than stay anywhere near
Gregor.  She rushed over to behind her father, who had
become excited merely because she was and stood up half
raising his hands in front of Gregor's sister as if to
protect her.

But Gregor had had no intention of frightening anyone, least
of all his sister.  All he had done was begin to turn round
so that he could go back into his room, although that was in
itself quite startling as his pain-wracked condition meant
that turning round required a great deal of effort and he
was using his head to help himself do it, repeatedly raising
it and striking it against the floor.  He stopped and looked
round.  They seemed to have realised his good intention and
had only been alarmed briefly.  Now they all looked at him
in unhappy silence.  His mother lay in her chair with her
legs stretched out and pressed against each other, her eyes
nearly closed with exhaustion; his sister sat next to his
father with her arms around his neck.

"Maybe now they'll let me turn round", thought Gregor and
went back to work.  He could not help panting loudly with
the effort and had sometimes to stop and take a rest.  No-
one was making him rush any more, everything was left up to
him.  As soon as he had finally finished turning round he
began to move straight ahead.  He was amazed at the great
distance that separated him from his room, and could not
understand how he had covered that distance in his weak
state a little while before and almost without noticing it.
He concentrated on crawling as fast as he could and hardly
noticed that there was not a word, not any cry, from his
family to distract him.

He did not turn his head until he had reached the doorway.
He did not turn it all the way round as he felt his neck
becoming stiff, but it was nonetheless enough to see that
nothing behind him had changed, only his sister had stood
up.  With his last glance he saw that his mother had now
fallen completely asleep.

He was hardly inside his room before the door was hurriedly
shut, bolted and locked.  The sudden noise behind Gregor so
startled him that his little legs collapsed under him. It
was his sister who had been in so much of a rush.  She had
been standing there waiting and sprung forward lightly,
Gregor had not heard her coming at all, and as she turned
the key in the lock she said loudly to her parents "At
last!".

"What now, then?", Gregor asked himself as he looked round
in the darkness.  He soon made the discovery that he could
no longer move at all.  This was no surprise to him, it
seemed rather that being able to actually move around on
those spindly little legs until then was unnatural.  He also
felt relatively comfortable.  It is true that his entire
body was aching, but the pain seemed to be slowly getting
weaker and weaker and would finally disappear altogether.
He could already hardly feel the decayed apple in his back
or the inflamed area around it, which was entirely covered
in white dust.  He thought back of his family with emotion
and love.  If it was possible, he felt that he must go away
even more strongly than his sister.  He remained in this
state of empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the
clock tower strike three in the morning.  He watched as it
slowly began to get light everywhere outside the window too.
Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely,
and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils.

When the cleaner came in early in the morning - they'd often
asked her not to keep slamming the doors but with her
strength and in her hurry she still did, so that everyone in
the flat knew when she'd arrived and from then on it was
impossible to sleep in peace - she made her usual brief look
in on Gregor and at first found nothing special.  She
thought he was laying there so still on purpose, playing the
martyr; she attributed all possible understanding to him.
She happened to be holding  the long broom in her hand, so
she tried to tickle Gregor with it from the doorway.  When
she had no success with that she tried to make a nuisance of
herself and poked at him a little, and only when she found
she could shove him across the floor with no resistance at
all did she start to pay attention.  She soon realised what
had really happened, opened her eyes wide, whistled to
herself, but did not waste time to yank open the bedroom
doors and shout loudly into the darkness of the bedrooms:
"Come and 'ave a look at this, it's dead, just lying there,
stone dead!"

Mr. and Mrs. Samsa sat upright there in their marriage bed
and had to make an effort to get over the  shock caused by
the cleaner before they could grasp what she was saying.
But then, each from his own side, they hurried out of bed.
Mr. Samsa threw the blanket over his shoulders, Mrs. Samsa
just came out in her nightdress; and that is how they went
into Gregor's room.  On the way they opened the door to the
living room where Grete had been sleeping since the three
gentlemen had moved in; she was fully dressed as if she  had
never been asleep, and the paleness of her face seemed to
confirm this.  "Dead?", asked Mrs. Samsa, looking at the
charwoman enquiringly, even though she could have checked
for herself and could have known it even without checking.
"That's what I said",  replied the cleaner, and to prove it
she gave Gregor's body another shove with the broom, sending
it sideways across the floor.  Mrs. Samsa made a movement as
if she wanted to hold back the broom, but did not complete
it.  "Now then", said Mr. Samsa, "let's give thanks to God
for that".  He crossed himself, and the three women followed
his example.

Grete, who had not taken her eyes from the corpse, said:
"Just look how thin he was.  He didn't eat anything for so
long.  The food came out again just the same as when it went
in".  Gregor's body was indeed completely dried up and flat,
they had not seen it until then, but now he was not lifted
up on his little legs, nor did he do anything to make them
look away.

"Grete, come with us in here for a little while", said Mrs.
Samsa with a pained smile, and Grete followed her parents
into the bedroom but not without looking back at the body.
The cleaner shut the door and opened the window wide.
Although it was still early in the morning the fresh air had
something of warmth mixed in with it.  It was already the
end of March, after all.

The three gentlemen stepped out of their room and looked
round in amazement for their breakfasts;  they had been
forgotten about.  "Where is our breakfast?", the middle
gentleman asked the cleaner irritably.  She just put her
finger on her lips and made a quick and silent sign to the
men that they might like to come into Gregor's room.  They
did so, and stood around Gregor's corpse with their hands in
the pockets of their well-worn coats.  It was now quite
light in the room.

Then the door of the bedroom opened and Mr. Samsa appeared
in his uniform with his wife on one arm and his daughter on
the other.  All of them had been crying a little; Grete now
and then pressed her face against her father's arm.

"Leave my home.  Now!", said Mr. Samsa, indicating the door
and without letting the women from him.  "What do you
mean?", asked the middle of the three gentlemen somewhat
disconcerted, and he smiled sweetly.  The other two held
their hands behind their backs and continually rubbed them
together in gleeful anticipation of a loud quarrel which
could only end in their favour.  "I mean just what I said",
answered Mr. Samsa, and, with his two companions, went in a
straight line towards the man.  At first, he stood there
still, looking at the ground as if the contents of his head
were rearranging themselves into new positions.  "Alright,
we'll go then", he said, and looked up at Mr. Samsa as if he
had been suddenly overcome with humility and wanted
permission again from Mr. Samsa for his decision.  Mr. Samsa
merely opened his eyes wide and briefly nodded to him
several times.  At that, and without delay, the man actually
did take long strides into the front hallway; his two
friends had stopped rubbing their hands some time before and
had been listening to what was being said.  Now they jumped
off after their friend as if taken with a sudden fear that
Mr. Samsa might go into the hallway in front of them and
break the connection with their leader.  Once there, all
three took their hats from the stand, took their sticks from
the holder, bowed without a word and left the premises.  Mr.
Samsa and the two women followed them out onto the landing;
but they had had no reason to mistrust the men' intentions
and as they leaned over the landing they saw how the three
gentlemen made slow but steady progress down the many steps.
As they turned the corner on each floor they disappeared and
would reappear a few moments later; the further down they
went, the more that the Samsa family lost interest in them;
when a butcher's boy, proud of posture with his tray on his
head, passed them on his way up and came nearer than they
were, Mr. Samsa and the women came away from the landing and
went, as if relieved, back into the flat.

They decided the best way to make use of that day was for
relaxation and to go for a walk; not only had they earned a
break from work but they were in serious need of it.  So
they sat at the table and wrote three letters of excusal,
Mr. Samsa to his employers, Mrs. Samsa to her contractor and
Grete to her principal.  The cleaner came in while they were
writing to tell them she was going, she'd finished her work
for that morning.  The three of them at first just nodded
without looking up from what they were writing, and it was
only when the cleaner still did not seem to want to leave
that they looked up in irritation.  "Well?", asked Mr.
Samsa.  The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile on
her face as if she had some tremendous good news to report,
but would only do it if she was clearly asked to.  The
almost vertical little ostrich feather on her hat, which had
been source of irritation to Mr. Samsa all the time she had
been working for them, swayed gently in all directions.
"What is it you want then?", asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the
cleaner had the most respect for.  "Yes", she answered, and
broke into a friendly laugh that made her unable to speak
straight away, "well then, that thing in there, you needn't
worry about how you're going to get rid of it.  That's all
been sorted out."  Mrs. Samsa and Grete bent down over their
letters as if intent on continuing with what they were
writing; Mr. Samsa saw that the cleaner wanted to start
describing everything in detail but, with outstretched hand,
he made it quite clear that she was not to.  So, as she was
prevented from telling them all about it, she suddenly
remembered what a hurry she was in and, clearly peeved,
called out "Cheerio then, everyone", turned round sharply
and left, slamming the door terribly as she went.

"Tonight she gets sacked", said Mr. Samsa, but he received
no reply from either his wife or his daughter as the
charwoman seemed to have destroyed the peace they had only
just gained.  They got up and went over to the window where
they remained with their arms around each other.  Mr. Samsa
twisted round in his chair to look at them and sat there
watching for a while.  Then he called out: "Come here, then.
Let's forget about all that old stuff, shall we.  Come and
give me a bit of attention".  The two women immediately did
as he said, hurrying over to him where they kissed him and
hugged him and then they quickly finished their letters.
After that, the three of them left the flat together, which
was something they had not done for months, and took the
tram out to the open country outside the town.  They had the
tram, filled with warm sunshine, all to themselves.  Leant
back comfortably on their seats, they discussed their
prospects and found that on closer examination they were not
at all bad - until then they had never asked each other
about their work but all three had jobs which were very good
and held particularly good promise for the future.  The
greatest improvement for the time being, of course, would be
achieved quite easily by moving house; what they needed now
was a flat that was smaller and cheaper than the current one
which had been chosen by Gregor, one that was in a better
location and, most of all, more practical.  All the time,
Grete was becoming livelier.  With all the worry they had
been having of late her cheeks had become pale, but, while
they were talking, Mr. and Mrs. Samsa were struck, almost
simultaneously, with the thought of how their daughter was
blossoming into a well built and beautiful young lady.  They
became quieter.  Just from each other's glance and almost
without knowing it they agreed that it would soon be time to
find a good man for her.  And, as if in confirmation of
their new dreams and good intentions, as soon as they
reached their destination Grete was the first to get up and
stretch out her young body.




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Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, Translated by David Wyllie.
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