The Metamorphosis Audiobook by Franz Kafka

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CHAPTER I.

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up
from anxious dreams, he discovered that in

bed he had been changed into a monstrous
verminous bug.

He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as
he lifted his head up a little, his brown,

arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-
like sections.

From this height the blanket, just about
ready to slide off completely, could hardly

stay in place.

His numerous legs, pitifully thin in
comparison to the rest of his

circumference, flickered helplessly before
his eyes.

"What's happened to me," he thought.

It was no dream.
His room, a proper room for a human being,

only somewhat too small, lay quietly
between the four well-known walls.

Above the table, on which an unpacked
collection of sample cloth goods was spread

out--Samsa was a travelling salesman--hung
the picture which he had cut out of an

illustrated magazine a little while ago and
set in a pretty gilt frame.

It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat
and a fur boa.

She sat erect there, lifting up in the
direction of the viewer a solid fur muff

into which her entire forearm had
disappeared.

Gregor's glance then turned to the window.

The dreary weather--the rain drops were
falling audibly down on the metal window

ledge--made him quite melancholy.

"Why don't I keep sleeping for a little
while longer and forget all this

foolishness," he thought.

But this was entirely impractical, for he
was used to sleeping on his right side, and

in his present state he couldn't get
himself into this position.

No matter how hard he threw himself onto
his right side, he always rolled again onto

his back.

He must have tried it a hundred times,
closing his eyes so that he would not have

to see the wriggling legs, and gave up only
when he began to feel a light, dull pain in

his side which he had never felt before.

"O God," he thought, "what a demanding job
I've chosen!

Day in, day out, on the road.

The stresses of selling are much greater
than the work going on at head office, and,

in addition to that, I have to cope with
the problems of travelling, the worries

about train connections, irregular bad

food, temporary and constantly changing
human relationships, which never come from

the heart.
To hell with it all!"

He felt a slight itching on the top of his
abdomen.

He slowly pushed himself on his back closer
to the bed post so that he could lift his

head more easily, found the itchy part,
which was entirely covered with small white

spots--he did not know what to make of them
and wanted to feel the place with a leg.

But he retracted it immediately, for the
contact felt like a cold shower all over

him.

He slid back again into his earlier
position.

"This getting up early," he thought, "makes
a man quite idiotic.

A man must have his sleep.

Other travelling salesmen live like harem
women.

For instance, when I come back to the inn
during the course of the morning to write

up the necessary orders, these gentlemen
are just sitting down to breakfast.

If I were to try that with my boss, I'd be
thrown out on the spot.

Still, who knows whether that mightn't be
really good for me?

If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake,
I'd have quit ages ago.

I would've gone to the boss and told him
just what I think from the bottom of my

heart.

He would've fallen right off his desk!
How weird it is to sit up at that desk and

talk down to the employee from way up
there.

The boss has trouble hearing, so the
employee has to step up quite close to him.

Anyway, I haven't completely given up that
hope yet.

Once I've got together the money to pay off
my parents' debt to him--that should take

another five or six years--I'll do it for
sure.

Then I'll make the big break.

In any case, right now I have to get up.
My train leaves at five o'clock."

He looked over at the alarm clock ticking
away by the chest of drawers.

"Good God!" he thought.

It was half past six, and the hands were
going quietly on.

It was past the half hour, already nearly
quarter to.

Could the alarm have failed to ring?

One saw from the bed that it was properly
set for four o'clock.

Certainly it had rung.
Yes, but was it possible to sleep through

that noise which made the furniture shake?

Now, it's true he'd not slept quietly, but
evidently he'd slept all the more deeply.

Still, what should he do now?
The next train left at seven o'clock.

To catch that one, he would have to go in a
mad rush.

The sample collection wasn't packed up yet,
and he really didn't feel particularly

fresh and active.

And even if he caught the train, there was
no avoiding a blow-up with the boss,

because the firm's errand boy would've
waited for the five o'clock train and

reported the news of his absence long ago.

He was the boss's minion, without backbone
or intelligence.

Well then, what if he reported in sick?

But that would be extremely embarrassing
and suspicious, because during his five

years' service Gregor hadn't been sick even
once.

The boss would certainly come with the
doctor from the health insurance company

and would reproach his parents for their
lazy son and cut short all objections with

the insurance doctor's comments; for him

everyone was completely healthy but really
lazy about work.

And besides, would the doctor in this case
be totally wrong?

Apart from a really excessive drowsiness
after the long sleep, Gregor in fact felt

quite well and even had a really strong
appetite.

As he was thinking all this over in the
greatest haste, without being able to make

the decision to get out of bed--the alarm
clock was indicating exactly quarter to

seven--there was a cautious knock on the
door by the head of the bed.

"Gregor," a voice called--it was his
mother!--"it's quarter to seven.

Don't you want to be on your way?"

The soft voice!
Gregor was startled when he heard his voice

answering.

It was clearly and unmistakably his earlier
voice, but in it was intermingled, as if

from below, an irrepressibly painful
squeaking, which left the words positively

distinct only in the first moment and

distorted them in the reverberation, so
that one didn't know if one had heard

correctly.

Gregor wanted to answer in detail and
explain everything, but in these

circumstances he confined himself to
saying, "Yes, yes, thank you mother.

I'm getting up right away."

Because of the wooden door the change in
Gregor's voice was not really noticeable

outside, so his mother calmed down with
this explanation and shuffled off.

However, as a result of the short
conversation, the other family members

became aware that Gregor was unexpectedly
still at home, and already his father was

knocking on one side door, weakly but with
his fist.

"Gregor, Gregor," he called out, "what's
going on?"

And, after a short while, he urged him on
again in a deeper voice: "Gregor!"

Gregor!"
At the other side door, however, his sister

knocked lightly.

"Gregor?
Are you all right?

Do you need anything?"
Gregor directed answers in both directions,

"I'll be ready right away."

He made an effort with the most careful
articulation and by inserting long pauses

between the individual words to remove
everything remarkable from his voice.

His father turned back to his breakfast.

However, the sister whispered, "Gregor,
open the door--I beg you."

Gregor had no intention of opening the
door, but congratulated himself on his

precaution, acquired from travelling, of
locking all doors during the night, even at

home.

First he wanted to stand up quietly and
undisturbed, get dressed, above all have

breakfast, and only then consider further
action, for--he noticed this clearly--by

thinking things over in bed he would not
reach a reasonable conclusion.

He remembered that he had already often
felt a light pain or other in bed, perhaps

the result of an awkward lying position,
which later turned out to be purely

imaginary when he stood up, and he was

eager to see how his present fantasies
would gradually dissipate.

That the change in his voice was nothing
other than the onset of a real chill, an

occupational illness of commercial
travellers, of that he had not the

slightest doubt.

It was very easy to throw aside the
blanket.

He needed only to push himself up a little,
and it fell by itself.

But to continue was difficult, particularly
because he was so unusually wide.

He needed arms and hands to push himself
upright.

Instead of these, however, he had only many
small limbs which were incessantly moving

with very different motions and which, in
addition, he was unable to control.

If he wanted to bend one of them, then it
was the first to extend itself, and if he

finally succeeded doing what he wanted with
this limb, in the meantime all the others,

as if left free, moved around in an
excessively painful agitation.

"But I must not stay in bed uselessly,"
said Gregor to himself.

At first he wanted to get out of bed with
the lower part of his body, but this lower

part--which, by the way, he had not yet
looked at and which he also couldn't

picture clearly--proved itself too
difficult to move.

The attempt went so slowly.

When, having become almost frantic, he
finally hurled himself forward with all his

force and without thinking, he chose his
direction incorrectly, and he hit the lower

bedpost hard.

The violent pain he felt revealed to him
that the lower part of his body was at the

moment probably the most sensitive.

Thus, he tried to get his upper body out of
the bed first and turned his head carefully

toward the edge of the bed.

He managed to do this easily, and in spite
of its width and weight his body mass at

last slowly followed the turning of his
head.

But as he finally raised his head outside
the bed in the open air, he became anxious

about moving forward any further in this
manner, for if he allowed himself

eventually to fall by this process, it

would take a miracle to prevent his head
from getting injured.

And at all costs he must not lose
consciousness right now.

He preferred to remain in bed.

However, after a similar effort, while he
lay there again, sighing as before, and

once again saw his small limbs fighting one
another, if anything worse than earlier,

and didn't see any chance of imposing quiet

and order on this arbitrary movement, he
told himself again that he couldn't

possibly remain in bed and that it might be
the most reasonable thing to sacrifice

everything if there was even the slightest

hope of getting himself out of bed in the
process.

At the same moment, however, he didn't
forget to remind himself from time to time

of the fact that calm--indeed the calmest--
reflection might be better than the most

confused decisions.

At such moments, he directed his gaze as
precisely as he could toward the window,

but unfortunately there was little
confident cheer to be had from a glance at

the morning mist, which concealed even the
other side of the narrow street.

"It's already seven o'clock," he told
himself at the latest striking of the alarm

clock, "already seven o'clock and still
such a fog."

And for a little while longer he lay
quietly with weak breathing, as if perhaps

waiting for normal and natural conditions
to re-emerge out of the complete stillness.

But then he said to himself, "Before it
strikes a quarter past seven, whatever

happens I must be completely out of bed.

Besides, by then someone from the office
will arrive to inquire about me, because

the office will open before seven o'clock."

And he made an effort then to rock his
entire body length out of the bed with a

uniform motion.

If he let himself fall out of the bed in
this way, his head, which in the course of

the fall he intended to lift up sharply,
would probably remain uninjured.

His back seemed to be hard; nothing would
really happen to that as a result of the

fall.

His greatest reservation was a worry about
the loud noise which the fall must create

and which presumably would arouse, if not
fright, then at least concern on the other

side of all the doors.

However, it had to be tried.

As Gregor was in the process of lifting
himself half out of bed--the new method was

more of a game than an effort; he needed
only to rock with a constant rhythm--it

struck him how easy all this would be if
someone were to come to his aid.

Two strong people--he thought of his father
and the servant girl--would have been quite

sufficient.

They would have only had to push their arms
under his arched back to get him out of the

bed, to bend down with their load, and then
merely to exercise patience and care that

he completed the flip onto the floor, where

his diminutive legs would then, he hoped,
acquire a purpose.

Now, quite apart from the fact that the
doors were locked, should he really call

out for help?

In spite of all his distress, he was unable
to suppress a smile at this idea.

He had already got to the point where, by
rocking more strongly, he maintained his

equilibrium with difficulty, and very soon
he would finally have to decide, for in

five minutes it would be a quarter past
seven.

Then there was a ring at the door of the
apartment.

"That's someone from the office," he told
himself, and he almost froze while his

small limbs only danced around all the
faster.

For one moment everything remained still.

"They aren't opening," Gregor said to
himself, caught up in some absurd hope.

But of course then, as usual, the servant
girl with her firm tread went to the door

and opened it.

Gregor needed to hear only the first word
of the visitor's greeting to recognize

immediately who it was, the manager
himself.

Why was Gregor the only one condemned to
work in a firm where, at the slightest

lapse, someone immediately attracted the
greatest suspicion?

Were all the employees then collectively,
one and all, scoundrels?

Among them was there then no truly devoted
person who, if he failed to use just a

couple of hours in the morning for office
work, would become abnormal from pangs of

conscience and really be in no state to get
out of bed?

Was it really not enough to let an
apprentice make inquiries, if such

questioning was even necessary?

Must the manager himself come, and in the
process must it be demonstrated to the

entire innocent family that the
investigation of this suspicious

circumstance could be entrusted only to the
intelligence of the manager?

And more as a consequence of the excited
state in which this idea put Gregor than as

a result of an actual decision, he swung
himself with all his might out of the bed.

There was a loud thud, but not a real
crash.

The fall was absorbed somewhat by the
carpet and, in addition, his back was more

elastic than Gregor had thought.

For that reason the dull noise was not
quite so conspicuous.

But he had not held his head up with
sufficient care and had hit it.

He turned his head, irritated and in pain,
and rubbed it on the carpet.

"Something has fallen in there," said the
manager in the next room on the left.

Gregor tried to imagine to himself whether
anything similar to what was happening to

him today could have also happened at some
point to the manager.

At least one had to concede the possibility
of such a thing.

However, as if to give a rough answer to
this question, the manager now, with a

squeak of his polished boots, took a few
determined steps in the next room.

From the neighbouring room on the right the
sister was whispering to inform Gregor:

"Gregor, the manager is here."
"I know," said Gregor to himself.

But he did not dare make his voice loud
enough so that his sister could hear.

"Gregor," his father now said from the
neighbouring room on the left, "Mr. Manager

has come and is asking why you have not
left on the early train.

We don't know what we should tell him.

Besides, he also wants to speak to you
personally.

So please open the door.
He will be good enough to forgive the mess

in your room."

In the middle of all this, the manager
called out in a friendly way, "Good

morning, Mr. Samsa."

"He is not well," said his mother to the
manager, while his father was still talking

at the door, "He is not well, believe me,
Mr. Manager.

Otherwise how would Gregor miss a train?

The young man has nothing in his head
except business.

I'm almost angry that he never goes out at
night.

Right now he's been in the city eight days,
but he's been at home every evening.

He sits here with us at the table and reads
the newspaper quietly or studies his travel

schedules.

It's a quite a diversion for him to busy
himself with fretwork.

For instance, he cut out a small frame over
the course of two or three evenings.

You'd be amazed how pretty it is.

It's hanging right inside the room.
You'll see it immediately, as soon as

Gregor opens the door.
Anyway, I'm happy that you're here, Mr.

Manager.

By ourselves, we would never have made
Gregor open the door.

He's so stubborn, and he's certainly not
well, although he denied that this

morning."

"I'm coming right away," said Gregor slowly
and deliberately and didn't move, so as not

to lose one word of the conversation.

"My dear lady, I cannot explain it to
myself in any other way," said the manager;

"I hope it is nothing serious.

On the other hand, I must also say that we
business people, luckily or unluckily,

however one looks at it, very often simply
have to overcome a slight indisposition for

business reasons."

"So can Mr. Manager come in to see you
now?" asked his father impatiently and

knocked once again on the door.
"No," said Gregor.

In the neighbouring room on the left a
painful stillness descended.

In the neighbouring room on the right the
sister began to sob.

Why didn't his sister go to the others?

She'd probably just gotten up out of bed
now and hadn't even started to get dressed

yet.
Then why was she crying?

Because he wasn't getting up and wasn't
letting the manager in, because he was in

danger of losing his position, and because
then his boss would badger his parents once

again with the old demands?

Those were probably unnecessary worries
right now.

Gregor was still here and wasn't thinking
at all about abandoning his family.

At the moment he was lying right there on
the carpet, and no one who knew about his

condition would've seriously demanded that
he let the manager in.

But Gregor wouldn't be casually dismissed
right way because of this small

discourtesy, for which he would find an
easy and suitable excuse later on.

It seemed to Gregor that it might be far
more reasonable to leave him in peace at

the moment, instead of disturbing him with
crying and conversation.

But it was the very uncertainty which
distressed the others and excused their

behaviour.
"Mr. Samsa," the manager was now shouting,

his voice raised, "what's the matter?

You are barricading yourself in your room,
answer with only a yes and a no, are making

serious and unnecessary troubles for your
parents, and neglecting (I mention this

only incidentally) your commercial duties
in a truly unheard of manner.

I am speaking here in the name of your
parents and your employer, and I am

requesting you in all seriousness for an
immediate and clear explanation.

I am amazed.

I am amazed.
I thought I knew you as a calm, reasonable

person, and now you appear suddenly to want
to start parading around in weird moods.

The Chief indicated to me earlier this very
day a possible explanation for your

neglect--it concerned the collection of
cash entrusted to you a short while ago--

but in truth I almost gave him my word of

honour that this explanation could not be
correct.

However, now I see here your unimaginable
pig headedness, and I am totally losing any

desire to speak up for you in the
slightest.

And your position is not at all the most
secure.

Originally I intended to mention all this
to you privately, but since you are letting

me waste my time here uselessly, I don't
know why the matter shouldn't come to the

attention of your parents.

Your productivity has also been very
unsatisfactory recently.

Of course, it's not the time of year to
conduct exceptional business, we recognize

that, but a time of year for conducting no
business, there is no such thing at all,

Mr. Samsa, and such a thing must never be."

"But Mr. Manager," called Gregor, beside
himself and, in his agitation, forgetting

everything else, "I'm opening the door
immediately, this very moment.

A slight indisposition, a dizzy spell, has
prevented me from getting up.

I'm still lying in bed right now.
But I'm quite refreshed once again.

I'm in the midst of getting out of bed.

Just have patience for a short moment!
Things are not going as well as I thought.

But things are all right.
How suddenly this can overcome someone!

Only yesterday evening everything was fine
with me.

My parents certainly know that.
Actually just yesterday evening I had a

small premonition.

People must have seen that in me.
Why have I not reported that to the office?

But people always think that they'll get
over sickness without having to stay at

home.

Mr. Manager!
Take it easy on my parents!

There is really no basis for the criticisms
which you're now making against me, and

really nobody has said a word to me about
that.

Perhaps you have not read the latest orders
which I shipped.

Besides, now I'm setting out on my trip on
the eight o'clock train; the few hours'

rest have made me stronger.

Mr. Manager, do not stay.
I will be at the office in person right

away.
Please have the goodness to say that and to

convey my respects to the Chief."

While Gregor was quickly blurting all this
out, hardly aware of what he was saying, he

had moved close to the chest of drawers
without effort, probably as a result of the

practice he had already had in bed, and now

he was trying to raise himself up on it.
Actually, he wanted to open the door.

He really wanted to let himself be seen by
and to speak with the manager.

He was keen to witness what the others now
asking about him would say when they saw

him.
If they were startled, then Gregor had no

more responsibility and could be calm.

But if they accepted everything quietly,
then he would have no reason to get excited

and, if he got a move on, could really be
at the station around eight o'clock.

At first he slid down a few times on the
smooth chest of drawers.

But at last he gave himself a final swing
and stood upright there.

He was no longer at all aware of the pains
in his lower body, no matter how they might

still sting.

Now he let himself fall against the back of
a nearby chair, on the edge of which he

braced himself with his thin limbs.

By doing this he gained control over
himself and kept quiet, for he could now

hear the manager.

"Did you understood a single word?" the
manager asked the parents, "Is he playing

the fool with us?"

"For God's sake," cried the mother already
in tears, "perhaps he's very ill and we're

upsetting him.
Grete!

Grete!" she yelled at that point.

"Mother?" called the sister from the other
side.

They were making themselves understood
through Gregor's room.

"You must go to the doctor right away.

Gregor is sick.
Hurry to the doctor.

Have you heard Gregor speak yet?"

"That was an animal's voice," said the
manager, remarkably quietly in comparison

to the mother's cries.
"Anna!

Anna!' yelled the father through the hall
into the kitchen, clapping his hands,

"fetch a locksmith right away!"

The two young women were already running
through the hall with swishing skirts--how

had his sister dressed herself so quickly?-
-and yanked open the doors of the

apartment.

One couldn't hear the doors closing at all.
They probably had left them open, as is

customary in an apartment where a huge
misfortune has taken place.

However, Gregor had become much calmer.

All right, people did not understand his
words any more, although they seemed clear

enough to him, clearer than previously,
perhaps because his ears had gotten used to

them.

But at least people now thought that things
were not all right with him and were

prepared to help him.

The confidence and assurance with which the
first arrangements had been carried out

made him feel good.

He felt himself included once again in the
circle of humanity and was expecting from

both the doctor and the locksmith, without
differentiating between them with any real

precision, splendid and surprising results.

In order to get as clear a voice as
possible for the critical conversation

which was imminent, he coughed a little,
and certainly took the trouble to do this

in a really subdued way, since it was

possible that even this noise sounded like
something different from a human cough.

He no longer trusted himself to decide any
more.

Meanwhile in the next room it had become
really quiet.

Perhaps his parents were sitting with the
manager at the table whispering; perhaps

they were all leaning against the door
listening.

Gregor pushed himself slowly towards the
door, with the help of the easy chair, let

go of it there, threw himself against the
door, held himself upright against it--the

balls of his tiny limbs had a little sticky

stuff on them--and rested there momentarily
from his exertion.

Then he made an effort to turn the key in
the lock with his mouth.

Unfortunately it seemed that he had no real
teeth.

How then was he to grab hold of the key?

But to make up for that his jaws were
naturally very strong; with their help he

managed to get the key really moving.

He didn't notice that he was obviously
inflicting some damage on himself, for a

brown fluid came out of his mouth, flowed
over the key, and dripped onto the floor.

"Just listen for a moment," said the
manager in the next room; "he's turning the

key."
For Gregor that was a great encouragement.

But they all should've called out to him,
including his father and mother, "Come on,

Gregor," they should've shouted; "keep
going, keep working on the lock."

Imagining that all his efforts were being
followed with suspense, he bit down

frantically on the key with all the force
he could muster.

As the key turned more, he danced around
the lock.

Now he was holding himself upright only
with his mouth, and he had to hang onto the

key or then press it down again with the
whole weight of his body, as necessary.

The quite distinct click of the lock as it
finally snapped really woke Gregor up.

Breathing heavily he said to himself, "So I
didn't need the locksmith," and he set his

head against the door handle to open the
door completely.

Because he had to open the door in this
way, it was already open very wide without

him yet being really visible.

He first had to turn himself slowly around
the edge of the door, very carefully, of

course, if he didn't want to fall awkwardly
on his back right at the entrance into the

room.

He was still preoccupied with this
difficult movement and had no time to pay

attention to anything else, when he heard
the manager exclaim a loud "Oh!"--it

sounded like the wind whistling--and now he

saw him, nearest to the door, pressing his
hand against his open mouth and moving

slowly back, as if an invisible constant
force was pushing him away.

His mother--in spite of the presence of the
manager she was standing here with her hair

sticking up on end, still a mess from the
night--was looking at his father with her

hands clasped.

She then went two steps towards Gregor and
collapsed right in the middle of her

skirts, which were spread out all around
her, her face sunk on her breast,

completely concealed.

His father clenched his fist with a hostile
expression, as if he wished to push Gregor

back into his room, then looked uncertainly
around the living room, covered his eyes

with his hands, and cried so that his
mighty breast shook.

At this point Gregor did not take one step
into the room, but leaned his body from the

inside against the firmly bolted wing of
the door, so that only half his body was

visible, as well as his head, tilted

sideways, with which he peeped over at the
others.

Meanwhile it had become much brighter.

Standing out clearly from the other side of
the street was a part of the endless grey-

black house situated opposite--it was a
hospital--with its severe regular windows

breaking up the facade.

The rain was still coming down, but only in
large individual drops visibly and firmly

thrown down one by one onto the ground.

The breakfast dishes were standing piled
around on the table, because for his father

breakfast was the most important meal time
in the day, which he prolonged for hours by

reading various newspapers.

Directly across on the opposite wall hung a
photograph of Gregor from the time of his

military service; it was a picture of him
as a lieutenant, as he, smiling and worry

free, with his hand on his sword, demanded
respect for his bearing and uniform.

The door to the hall was ajar, and since
the door to the apartment was also open,

one could see out into the landing of the
apartment and the start of the staircase

going down.

"Now," said Gregor, well aware that he was
the only one who had kept his composure.

"I'll get dressed right away, pack up the
collection of samples, and set off.

You'll allow me to set out on my way, will
you not?

You see, Mr. Manager, I am not pig-headed,
and I am happy to work.

Travelling is exhausting, but I couldn't
live without it.

Where are you going, Mr. Manager?
To the office?

Really?

Will you report everything truthfully?

A person can be incapable of work
momentarily, but that's precisely the best

time to remember the earlier achievements
and to consider that later, after the

obstacles have been shoved aside, the

person will work all the more eagerly and
intensely.

I am really so indebted to Mr. Chief--you
know that perfectly well.

On the other hand, I am concerned about my
parents and my sister.

I'm in a fix, but I'll work myself out of
it again.

Don't make things more difficult for me
than they already are.

Speak up on my behalf in the office!
People don't like travelling salesmen.

I know that.

People think they earn pots of money and
thus lead a fine life.

People don't even have any special reason
to think through this judgment more

clearly.

But you, Mr. Manager, you have a better
perspective on what's involved than other

people, even, I tell you in total
confidence, a better perspective than Mr.

Chairman himself, who in his capacity as

the employer may let his judgment make
casual mistakes at the expense of an

employee.

You also know well enough that the
travelling salesman who is outside the

office almost the entire year can become so
easily a victim of gossip, coincidences,

and groundless complaints, against which

it's impossible for him to defend himself,
since for the most part he doesn't hear

about them at all and only then when he's
exhausted after finishing a trip and at

home gets to feel in his own body the nasty

consequences, which can't be thoroughly
explored back to their origins.

Mr. Manager, don't leave without speaking a
word telling me that you'll at least

concede that I'm a little in the right!"

But at Gregor's first words the manager had
already turned away, and now he looked back

at Gregor over his twitching shoulders with
pursed lips.

During Gregor's speech he was not still for
a moment but kept moving away towards the

door, without taking his eyes off Gregor,
but really gradually, as if there was a

secret ban on leaving the room.

He was already in the hall, and given the
sudden movement with which he finally

pulled his foot out of the living room, one
could have believed that he had just burned

the sole of his foot.

In the hall, however, he stretched his
right hand out away from his body towards

the staircase, as if some truly
supernatural relief was waiting for him

there.

Gregor realized that he must not under any
circumstances allow the manager to go away

in this frame of mind, especially if his
position in the firm was not to be placed

in the greatest danger.

His parents did not understand all this
very well.

Over the long years, they had developed the
conviction that Gregor was set up for life

in his firm and, in addition, they had so
much to do nowadays with their present

troubles that all foresight was foreign to
them.

But Gregor had this foresight.
The manager must be held back, calmed down,

convinced, and finally won over.

The future of Gregor and his family really
depended on it!

If only the sister had been there!
She was clever.

She had already cried while Gregor was
still lying quietly on his back.

And the manager, this friend of the ladies,
would certainly let himself be guided by

her.

She would have closed the door to the
apartment and talked him out of his fright

in the hall.
But the sister was not even there.

Gregor must deal with it himself.

Without thinking that as yet he didn't know
anything about his present ability to move

and that his speech possibly--indeed
probably--had once again not been

understood, he left the wing of the door,

pushed himself through the opening, and
wanted to go over to the manager, who was

already holding tight onto the handrail
with both hands on the landing in a

ridiculous way.

But as he looked for something to hold
onto, with a small scream Gregor

immediately fell down onto his numerous
little legs.

Scarcely had this happened, when he felt
for the first time that morning a general

physical well being.

The small limbs had firm floor under them;
they obeyed perfectly, as he noticed to his

joy, and strove to carry him forward in the
direction he wanted.

Right away he believed that the final
amelioration of all his suffering was

immediately at hand.

But at the very moment when he lay on the
floor rocking in a restrained manner quite

close and directly across from his mother,
who had apparently totally sunk into

herself, she suddenly sprang right up with

her arms spread far apart and her fingers
extended and cried out, "Help, for God's

sake, help!"

She held her head bowed down, as if she
wanted to view Gregor better, but ran

senselessly back, contradicting that
gesture, forgetting that behind her stood

the table with all the dishes on it.

When she reached the table, she sat down
heavily on it, as if absent-mindedly, and

did not appear to notice at all that next
to her coffee was pouring out onto the

carpet in a full stream from the large
overturned container.

"Mother, mother," said Gregor quietly, and
looked over towards her.

The manager momentarily had disappeared
completely from his mind.

At the sight of the flowing coffee Gregor
couldn't stop himself snapping his jaws in

the air a few times .

At that his mother screamed all over again,
hurried from the table, and collapsed into

the arms of his father, who was rushing
towards her.

But Gregor had no time right now for his
parents--the manager was already on the

staircase.
His chin level with the banister, the

manager looked back for the last time.

Gregor took an initial movement to catch up
to him if possible.

But the manager must have suspected
something, because he made a leap down over

a few stairs and disappeared, still
shouting "Huh!"

The sound echoed throughout the entire
stairwell.

Now, unfortunately this flight of the
manager also seemed to bewilder his father

completely.

Earlier he had been relatively calm, for
instead of running after the manager

himself or at least not hindering Gregor
from his pursuit, with his right hand he

grabbed hold of the manager's cane, which

he had left behind with his hat and
overcoat on a chair.

With his left hand, his father picked up a
large newspaper from the table and,

stamping his feet on the floor, he set out
to drive Gregor back into his room by

waving the cane and the newspaper.

No request of Gregor's was of any use; no
request would even be understood.

No matter how willing he was to turn his
head respectfully, his father just stomped

all the harder with his feet.

Across the room from him his mother had
pulled open a window, in spite of the cool

weather, and leaning out with her hands on
her cheeks, she pushed her face far outside

the window.

Between the alley and the stairwell a
strong draught came up, the curtains on the

window flew around, the newspapers on the
table swished, and individual sheets

fluttered down over the floor.

The father relentlessly pressed forward,
pushing out sibilants, like a wild man.

Now, Gregor had no practice at all in going
backwards--it was really very slow going.

If Gregor only had been allowed to turn
himself around, he would have been in his

room right away, but he was afraid to make
his father impatient by the time-consuming

process of turning around, and each moment

he faced the threat of a mortal blow on his
back or his head from the cane in his

father's hand.

Finally Gregor had no other option, for he
noticed with horror that he did not

understand yet how to maintain his
direction going backwards.

And so he began, amid constantly anxious
sideways glances in his father's direction,

to turn himself around as quickly as
possible, although in truth this was only

done very slowly.

Perhaps his father noticed his good
intentions, for he did not disrupt Gregor

in this motion, but with the tip of the
cane from a distance he even directed

Gregor's rotating movement here and there.

If only his father had not hissed so
unbearably!

Because of that Gregor totally lost his
head.

He was already almost totally turned
around, when, always with this hissing in

his ear, he just made a mistake and turned
himself back a little.

But when he finally was successful in
getting his head in front of the door

opening, it became clear that his body was
too wide to go through any further.

Naturally his father, in his present mental
state, had no idea of opening the other

wing of the door a bit to create a suitable
passage for Gregor to get through.

His single fixed thought was that Gregor
must get into his room as quickly as

possible.

He would never have allowed the elaborate
preparations that Gregor required to orient

himself and thus perhaps get through the
door.

On the contrary, as if there were no
obstacle and with a peculiar noise, he now

drove Gregor forwards.

Behind Gregor the sound at this point was
no longer like the voice of only a single

father.

Now it was really no longer a joke, and
Gregor forced himself, come what might,

into the door.
One side of his body was lifted up.

He lay at an angle in the door opening.

His one flank was sore with the scraping.
On the white door ugly blotches were left.

Soon he was stuck fast and would have not
been able to move any more on his own.

The tiny legs on one side hung twitching in
the air above, and the ones on the other

side were pushed painfully into the floor.

Then his father gave him one really strong
liberating push from behind, and he

scurried, bleeding severely, far into the
interior of his room.

The door was slammed shut with the cane,
and finally it was quiet.

CHAPTER II.

Gregor first woke up from his heavy swoon-
like sleep in the evening twilight.

He would certainly have woken up soon
afterwards without any disturbance, for he

felt himself sufficiently rested and wide
awake, although it appeared to him as if a

hurried step and a cautious closing of the
door to the hall had aroused him.

Light from the electric streetlamps lay
pale here and there on the ceiling and on

the higher parts of the furniture, but
underneath around Gregor it was dark.

He pushed himself slowly toward the door,
still groping awkwardly with his feelers,

which he now learned to value for the first
time, to check what was happening there.

His left side seemed one single long
unpleasantly stretched scar, and he really

had to hobble on his two rows of legs.

In addition, one small leg had been
seriously wounded in the course of the

morning incident--it was almost a miracle
that only one had been hurt--and dragged

lifelessly behind.

By the door he first noticed what had
really lured him there: it was the smell of

something to eat.

A bowl stood there, filled with sweetened
milk, in which swam tiny pieces of white

bread.

He almost laughed with joy, for he now had
a much greater hunger than in the morning,

and he immediately dipped his head almost
up to and over his eyes down into the milk.

But he soon drew it back again in
disappointment, not just because it was

difficult for him to eat on account of his
delicate left side--he could eat only if

his entire panting body worked in a

coordinated way--but also because the milk,
which otherwise was his favourite drink and

which his sister had certainly placed there
for that reason, did not appeal to him at

all.

He turned away from the bowl almost with
aversion and crept back into the middle of

the room.

In the living room, as Gregor saw through
the crack in the door, the gas was lit, but

where, on other occasions at this time of
day, his father was accustomed to read the

afternoon newspaper in a loud voice to his

mother and sometimes also to his sister, at
the moment no sound was audible.

Now, perhaps this reading aloud, about
which his sister had always spoken and

written to him, had recently fallen out of
their general routine.

But it was so still all around, in spite of
the fact that the apartment was certainly

not empty.

"What a quiet life the family leads," said
Gregor to himself and, as he stared fixedly

out in front of him into the darkness, he
felt a great pride that he had been able to

provide such a life in a beautiful

apartment like this for his parents and his
sister.

But how would things go if now all
tranquillity, all prosperity, all

contentment should come to a horrible end?

In order not to lose himself in such
thoughts, Gregor preferred to set himself

moving, so he moved up and down in his
room.

Once during the long evening one side door
and then the other door was opened just a

tiny crack and quickly closed again.
Someone presumably needed to come in but

had then thought better of it.

Gregor immediately took up a position by
the living room door, determined to bring

in the hesitant visitor somehow or other or
at least to find out who it might be.

But now the door was not opened any more,
and Gregor waited in vain.

Earlier, when the door had been barred,
they had all wanted to come in to him; now,

when he had opened one door and when the
others had obviously been opened during the

day, no one came any more, and the keys
were stuck in the locks on the outside.

The light in the living room was turned off
only late at night, and now it was easy to

establish that his parents and his sister
had stayed awake all this time, for one

could hear clearly as all three moved away
on tiptoe.

Now it was certain that no one would come
into Gregor any more until the morning.

Thus, he had a long time to think
undisturbed about how he should reorganize

his life from scratch.

But the high, open room, in which he was
compelled to lie flat on the floor, made

him anxious, without his being able to
figure out the reason, for he had lived in

the room for five years.

With a half unconscious turn and not
without a slight shame he scurried under

the couch, where, in spite of the fact that
his back was a little cramped and he could

no longer lift up his head, he felt very

comfortable and was sorry only that his
body was too wide to fit completely under

it.

There he remained the entire night, which
he spent partly in a state of semi-sleep,

out of which his hunger constantly woke him
with a start, but partly in a state of

worry and murky hopes, which all led to the

conclusion that for the time being he would
have to keep calm and with patience and the

greatest consideration for his family
tolerate the troubles which in his present

condition he was now forced to cause them.

Already early in the morning--it was still
almost night--Gregor had an opportunity to

test the power of the decisions he had just
made, for his sister, almost fully dressed,

opened the door from the hall into his room
and looked eagerly inside.

She did not find him immediately, but when
she noticed him under the couch--God, he

had to be somewhere or other, for he could
hardly fly away--she got such a shock that,

without being able to control herself, she

slammed the door shut once again from the
outside.

However, as if she was sorry for her
behaviour, she immediately opened the door

again and walked in on her tiptoes, as if
she was in the presence of a serious

invalid or a total stranger.

Gregor had pushed his head forward just to
the edge of the couch and was observing

her.

Would she really notice that he had left
the milk standing, not indeed from any lack

of hunger, and would she bring in something
else to eat more suitable for him?

If she did not do it on her own, he would
sooner starve to death than call her

attention to the fact, although he had a
really powerful urge to move beyond the

couch, throw himself at his sister's feet,

and beg her for something or other good to
eat.

But his sister noticed right away with
astonishment that the bowl was still full,

with only a little milk spilled around it.

She picked it up immediately, although not
with her bare hands but with a rag, and

took it out of the room.

Gregor was extremely curious what she would
bring as a substitute, and he pictured to

himself different ideas about it.

But he never could have guessed what his
sister out of the goodness of her heart in

fact did.

She brought him, to test his taste, an
entire selection, all spread out on an old

newspaper.

There were old half-rotten vegetables,
bones from the evening meal, covered with a

white sauce which had almost solidified,
some raisins and almonds, cheese which

Gregor had declared inedible two days

earlier, a slice of dry bread, and a slice
of salted bread smeared with butter.

In addition to all this, she put down a
bowl--probably designated once and for all

as Gregor's--into which she had poured some
water.

And out of her delicacy of feeling, since
she knew that Gregor would not eat in front

of her, she went away very quickly and even
turned the key in the lock, so that Gregor

would now observe that he could make
himself as comfortable as he wished.

Gregor's small limbs buzzed now that the
time for eating had come.

His wounds must, in any case, have already
healed completely.

He felt no handicap on that score.

He was astonished at that and thought about
how more than a month ago he had cut his

finger slightly with a knife and how this
wound had hurt enough even the day before

yesterday.

"Am I now going to be less sensitive," he
thought, already sucking greedily on the

cheese, which had strongly attracted him
right away, more than all the other foods.

Quickly and with his eyes watering with
satisfaction, he ate one after the other

the cheese, the vegetables, and the sauce.
The fresh food, by contrast, didn't taste

good to him.

He couldn't bear the smell and even carried
the things he wanted to eat a little

distance away.

By the time his sister slowly turned the
key as a sign that he should withdraw, he

was long finished and now lay lazily in the
same spot.

The noise immediately startled him, in
spite of the fact that he was already

almost asleep, and he scurried back again
under the couch.

But it cost him great self-control to
remain under the couch, even for the short

time his sister was in the room, because
his body had filled out somewhat on account

of the rich meal and in the narrow space
there he could scarcely breathe.

In the midst of minor attacks of
asphyxiation, he looked at her with

somewhat protruding eyes, as his
unsuspecting sister swept up with a broom,

not just the remnants, but even the foods

which Gregor had not touched at all, as if
these were also now useless, and as she

dumped everything quickly into a bucket,
which she closed with a wooden lid, and

then carried all of it out of the room.

She had hardly turned around before Gregor
had already dragged himself out from the

couch, stretched out, and let his body
expand.

In this way Gregor got his food every day,
once in the morning, when his parents and

the servant girl were still asleep, and a
second time after the common noon meal, for

his parents were, as before, asleep then

for a little while, and the servant girl
was sent off by his sister on some errand

or other.

They certainly would not have wanted Gregor
to starve to death, but perhaps they could

not have endured finding out what he ate
other than by hearsay.

Perhaps his sister wanted to spare them
what was possibly only a small grief, for

they were really suffering quite enough
already.

What sorts of excuses people had used on
that first morning to get the doctor and

the locksmith out of the house Gregor was
completely unable to ascertain.

Since they could not understand him, no
one, not even his sister, thought that he

might be able to understand others, and
thus, when his sister was in her room, he

had to be content with listening now and

then to her sighs and invocations to the
saints.

Only later, when she had grown somewhat
accustomed to everything--naturally there

could never be any talk of her growing
completely accustomed to it--Gregor

sometimes caught a comment which was

intended to be friendly or could be
interpreted as such.

"Well, today it tasted good to him," she
said, if Gregor had really cleaned up what

he had to eat; whereas, in the reverse
situation, which gradually repeated itself

more and more frequently, she used to say
sadly, "Now everything has stopped again."

But while Gregor could get no new
information directly, he did hear a good

deal from the room next door, and as soon
as he heard voices, he scurried right away

to the appropriate door and pressed his
entire body against it.

In the early days especially, there was no
conversation which was not concerned with

him in some way or other, even if only in
secret.

For two days at all meal times discussions
on that subject could be heard on how

people should now behave; but they also
talked about the same subject in the times

between meals, for there were always at

least two family members at home, since no
one really wanted to remain in the house

alone and people could not under any
circumstances leave the apartment

completely empty.

In addition, on the very first day the
servant girl--it was not completely clear

what and how much she knew about what had
happened--on her knees had begged his

mother to let her go immediately, and when

she said good bye about fifteen minutes
later, she thanked them for the dismissal

with tears in her eyes, as if she was
receiving the greatest favour which people

had shown her there, and, without anyone

demanding it from her, she swore a fearful
oath not to betray anyone, not even the

slightest bit.

Now his sister had to team up with his
mother to do the cooking, although that

didn't create much trouble because people
were eating almost nothing.

Again and again Gregor listened as one of
them vainly invited another one to eat and

received no answer other than "Thank you.
I've had enough" or something like that.

And perhaps they had stopped having
anything to drink, too.

His sister often asked his father whether
he wanted to have a beer and gladly offered

to fetch it herself, and when his father
was silent, she said, in order to remove

any reservations he might have, that she
could send the caretaker's wife to get it.

But then his father finally said a
resounding "No," and nothing more would be

spoken about it.

Already during the first day his father
laid out all the financial circumstances

and prospects to his mother and to his
sister as well.

From time to time he stood up from the
table and pulled out of the small lockbox

salvaged from his business, which had
collapsed five years previously, some

document or other or some notebook.

The sound was audible as he opened up the
complicated lock and, after removing what

he was looking for, locked it up again.

These explanations by his father were, in
part, the first enjoyable thing that Gregor

had the chance to listen to since his
imprisonment.

He had thought that nothing at all was left
over for his father from that business; at

least his father had told him nothing to
contradict that view, and Gregor in any

case hadn't asked him about it.

At the time Gregor's only concern had been
to use everything he had in order to allow

his family to forget as quickly as possible
the business misfortune which had brought

them all into a state of complete
hopelessness.

And so at that point he'd started to work
with a special intensity and from an

assistant had become, almost overnight, a
travelling salesman, who naturally had

entirely different possibilities for

earning money and whose successes at work
were converted immediately into the form of

cash commissions, which could be set out on
the table at home in front of his

astonished and delighted family.

Those had been beautiful days, and they had
never come back afterwards, at least not

with the same splendour, in spite of the
fact that Gregor later earned so much money

that he was in a position to bear the

expenses of the entire family, costs which
he, in fact, did bear.

They had become quite accustomed to it,
both the family and Gregor as well.

They took the money with thanks, and he
happily surrendered it, but the special

warmth was no longer present.

Only the sister had remained still close to
Gregor, and it was his secret plan to send

her next year to the conservatory,
regardless of the great expense which that

necessarily involved and which would be
made up in other ways.

In contrast to Gregor she loved music very
much and knew how to play the violin

charmingly.

Now and then during Gregor's short stays in
the city the conservatory was mentioned in

conversations with his sister, but always
only as a beautiful dream, whose

realization was unimaginable, and their

parents never listened to these innocent
expectations with pleasure.

But Gregor thought about them with
scrupulous consideration and intended to

explain the matter ceremoniously on
Christmas Eve.

In his present situation, such futile ideas
went through his head, while he pushed

himself right up against the door and
listened.

Sometimes in his general exhaustion he
couldn't listen any more and let his head

bang listlessly against the door, but he
immediately pulled himself together, for

even the small sound which he made by this

motion was heard near by and silenced
everyone.

"There he goes on again," said his father
after a while, clearly turning towards the

door, and only then would the interrupted
conversation gradually be resumed again.

Gregor found out clearly enough--for his
father tended to repeat himself often in

his explanations, partly because he had not
personally concerned himself with these

matters for a long time now, and partly

also because his mother did not understand
everything right away the first time--that,

in spite all bad luck, a fortune, although
a very small one, was available from the

old times, which the interest, which had

not been touched, had in the intervening
time gradually allowed to increase a

little.

Furthermore, in addition to this, the money
which Gregor had brought home every month--

he had kept only a few florins for himself-
-had not been completely spent and had

grown into a small capital amount.

Gregor, behind his door, nodded eagerly,
rejoicing over this unanticipated foresight

and frugality.

True, with this excess money, he could have
paid off more of his father's debt to his

employer and the day on which he could be
rid of this position would have been a lot

closer, but now things were doubtless

better the way his father had arranged
them.

At the moment, however, this money was not
nearly sufficient to permit the family to

live on the interest payments.

Perhaps it would be enough to maintain the
family for one or at most two years, that's

all.

Thus, it only added up to an amount which
one should not really draw upon and which

must be set aside for an emergency.
But the money to live on had to be earned.

Now, although his father was old, he was a
healthy man who had not worked at all for

five years and thus could not be counted on
for very much.

He had in these five years, the first
holidays of his trouble-filled but

unsuccessful life, put on a good deal of
fat and thus had become really heavy.

And should his old mother now perhaps work
for money, a woman who suffered from

asthma, for whom wandering through the
apartment even now was a great strain and

who spent every second day on the sofa by
the open window labouring for breath?

Should his sister earn money, a girl who
was still a seventeen-year-old child whose

earlier life style had been so very
delightful that it had consisted of

dressing herself nicely, sleeping in late,

helping around the house, taking part in a
few modest enjoyments and, above all,

playing the violin?

When it came to talking about this need to
earn money, at first Gregor went away from

the door and threw himself on the cool
leather sofa beside the door, for he was

quite hot from shame and sorrow.

Often he lay there all night long.
He didn't sleep a moment and just scratched

on the leather for hours at a time.
He undertook the very difficult task of

shoving a chair over to the window.

Then he crept up on the window sill and,
braced in the chair, leaned against the

window to look out, obviously with some
memory or other of the satisfaction which

that used to bring him in earlier times.

Actually, from day to day he perceived
things with less and less clarity, even

those a short distance away: the hospital
across the street, the all-too-frequent

sight of which he had previously cursed,

was not visible at all any more, and if he
had not been precisely aware that he lived

in the quiet but completely urban Charlotte
Street, he could have believed that from

his window he was peering out at a

featureless wasteland, in which the grey
heaven and the grey earth had merged and

were indistinguishable.

His attentive sister must have observed a
couple of times that the chair stood by the

window; then, after cleaning up the room,
each time she pushed the chair back right

against the window and from now on she even
left the inner casement open.

If Gregor had only been able to speak to
his sister and thank her for everything

that she had to do for him, he would have
tolerated her service more easily.

As it was, he suffered under it.

The sister admittedly sought to cover up
the awkwardness of everything as much as

possible, and, as time went by, she
naturally got more successful at it.

But with the passing of time Gregor also
came to understand everything more

precisely.
Even her entrance was terrible for him.

As soon as she entered, she ran straight to
the window, without taking the time to shut

the door, in spite of the fact that she was
otherwise very considerate in sparing

anyone the sight of Gregor's room, and

yanked the window open with eager hands, as
if she was almost suffocating, and remained

for a while by the window breathing deeply,
even when it was still so cold.

With this running and noise she frightened
Gregor twice every day.

The entire time he trembled under the
couch, and yet he knew very well that she

would certainly have spared him gladly if
it had only been possible to remain with

the window closed in a room where Gregor
lived.

On one occasion--about one month had
already gone by since Gregor's

transformation, and there was now no
particular reason any more for his sister

to be startled at Gregor's appearance--she

arrived a little earlier than usual and
came upon Gregor as he was still looking

out the window, immobile and well
positioned to frighten someone.

It would not have come as a surprise to
Gregor if she had not come in, since his

position was preventing her from opening
the window immediately.

But she not only did not step inside; she
even retreated and shut the door.

A stranger really might have concluded from
this that Gregor had been lying in wait for

her and wanted to bite her.

Of course, Gregor immediately concealed
himself under the couch, but he had to wait

until the noon meal before his sister
returned, and she seemed much less calm

than usual.

From this he realized that his appearance
was still constantly intolerable to her and

must remain intolerable in future, and that
she really had to exert a lot of self-

control not to run away from a glimpse of

only the small part of his body which stuck
out from under the couch.

In order to spare her even this sight, one
day he dragged the sheet on his back and

onto the couch--this task took him four
hours--and arranged it in such a way that

he was now completely concealed and his

sister, even if she bent down, could not
see him.

If this sheet was not necessary as far as
she was concerned, then she could remove

it, for it was clear enough that Gregor
could not derive any pleasure from

isolating himself away so completely.

But she left the sheet just as it was, and
Gregor believed he even caught a look of

gratitude when, on one occasion, he
carefully lifted up the sheet a little with

his head to check, as his sister took stock
of the new arrangement.

In the first two weeks his parents could
not bring themselves to visit him, and he

often heard how they fully acknowledged his
sister's present work; whereas, earlier

they had often got annoyed at his sister

because she had seemed to them a somewhat
useless young woman.

However, now both his father and his mother
often waited in front of Gregor's door

while his sister cleaned up inside, and as
soon as she came out, she had to explain in

detail how things looked in the room, what

Gregor had eaten, how he had behaved this
time, and whether perhaps a slight

improvement was perceptible.

In any event, his mother comparatively soon
wanted to visit Gregor, but his father and

his sister restrained her, at first with
reasons which Gregor listened to very

attentively and which he completely
endorsed.

Later, however, they had to hold her back
forcefully, and when she then cried "Let me

go to Gregor.

He's my unlucky son!
Don't you understand that I have to go to

him?"

Gregor then thought that perhaps it would
be a good thing if his mother came in, not

every day, of course, but maybe once a
week.

She understood everything much better than
his sister, who, in spite of all her

courage, was still a child and, in the last
analysis, had perhaps undertaken such a

difficult task only out of childish
recklessness.

Gregor's wish to see his mother was soon
realized.

While during the day Gregor, out of
consideration for his parents, did not want

to show himself by the window, he couldn't
crawl around very much on the few square

metres of the floor.

He found it difficult to bear lying quietly
during the night, and soon eating no longer

gave him the slightest pleasure.

So for diversion he acquired the habit of
crawling back and forth across the walls

and ceiling.
He was especially fond of hanging from the

ceiling.

The experience was quite different from
lying on the floor.

It was easier to breathe, a slight
vibration went through his body, and in the

midst of the almost happy amusement which
Gregor found up there, it could happen

that, to his own surprise, he let go and
hit the floor.

However, now he naturally controlled his
body quite differently, and he did not

injure himself in such a great fall.

His sister noticed immediately the new
amusement which Gregor had found for

himself--for as he crept around he left
behind here and there traces of his sticky

stuff--and so she got the idea of making

Gregor's creeping around as easy as
possible and thus of removing the furniture

which got in the way, especially the chest
of drawers and the writing desk.

But she was in no position to do this by
herself.

She did not dare to ask her father to help,
and the servant girl would certainly not

have assisted her, for although this girl,
about sixteen years old, had courageously

remained since the dismissal of the

previous cook, she had begged for the
privilege of being allowed to stay

permanently confined to the kitchen and of
having to open the door only in answer to a

special summons.

Thus, his sister had no other choice but to
involve his mother while his father was

absent.

His mother approached Gregor's room with
cries of excited joy, but she fell silent

at the door.
Of course, his sister first checked whether

everything in the room was in order.

Only then did she let his mother walk in.
In great haste Gregor had drawn the sheet

down even further and wrinkled it more.
The whole thing really looked just like a

coverlet thrown carelessly over the couch.

On this occasion, Gregor held back from
spying out from under the sheet.

Thus, he refrained from looking at his
mother this time and was just happy that

she had come.

"Come on; he's not visible," said his
sister, and evidently led his mother by the

hand.

Now Gregor listened as these two weak women
shifted the still heavy old chest of

drawers from its position, and as his
sister constantly took on herself the

greater part of the work, without listening

to the warnings of his mother, who was
afraid that she would strain herself.

The work lasted a long time.

After about a quarter of an hour had
already gone by, his mother said it would

be better if they left the chest of drawers
where it was, because, in the first place,

it was too heavy: they would not be

finished before his father's arrival, and
leaving the chest of drawers in the middle

of the room would block all Gregor's
pathways, but, in the second place, they

could not be certain that Gregor would be
pleased with the removal of the furniture.

To her the reverse seemed to be true; the
sight of the empty walls pierced her right

to the heart, and why should Gregor not
feel the same, since he had been accustomed

to the room furnishings for a long time and

in an empty room would feel himself
abandoned?

"And is it not the case," his mother
concluded very quietly, almost whispering

as if she wished to prevent Gregor, whose
exact location she really didn't know, from

hearing even the sound of her voice--for

she was convinced that he did not
understand her words--"and isn't it a fact

that by removing the furniture we're
showing that we're giving up all hope of an

improvement and are leaving him to his own
resources without any consideration?

I think it would be best if we tried to
keep the room exactly in the condition it

was in before, so that, when Gregor returns
to us, he finds everything unchanged and

can forget the intervening time all the
more easily."

As he heard his mother's words Gregor
realized that the lack of all immediate

human contact, together with the monotonous
life surrounded by the family over the

course of these two months, must have

confused his understanding, because
otherwise he couldn't explain to himself

how he, in all seriousness, could have been
so keen to have his room emptied.

Was he really eager to let the warm room,
comfortably furnished with pieces he had

inherited, be turned into a cavern in which
he would, of course, then be able to crawl

about in all directions without

disturbance, but at the same time with a
quick and complete forgetting of his human

past as well?

Was he then at this point already on the
verge of forgetting and was it only the

voice of his mother, which he had not heard
for a long time, that had aroused him?

Nothing was to be removed--everything must
remain.

In his condition he could not function
without the beneficial influences of his

furniture.

And if the furniture prevented him from
carrying out his senseless crawling about

all over the place, then there was no harm
in that, but rather a great benefit.

But his sister unfortunately thought
otherwise.

She had grown accustomed, certainly not
without justification, so far as the

discussion of matters concerning Gregor was
concerned, to act as an special expert with

respect to their parents, and so now the

mother's advice was for his sister
sufficient reason to insist on the removal,

not only of the chest of drawers and the
writing desk, which were the only items she

had thought about at first, but also of all

the furniture, with the exception of the
indispensable couch.

Of course, it was not only childish
defiance and her recent very unexpected and

hard won self-confidence which led her to
this demand.

She had also actually observed that Gregor
needed a great deal of room to creep about;

the furniture, on the other hand, as far as
one could see, was not of the slightest

use.

But perhaps the enthusiastic sensibility of
young women of her age also played a role.

This feeling sought release at every
opportunity, and with it Grete now felt

tempted to want to make Gregor's situation
even more terrifying, so that then she

would be able to do even more for him than
now.

For surely no one except Grete would ever
trust themselves to enter a room in which

Gregor ruled the empty walls all by
himself.

And so she did not let herself be dissuaded
from her decision by her mother, who in

this room seemed uncertain of herself in
her sheer agitation and soon kept quiet,

helping his sister with all her energy to
get the chest of drawers out of the room.

Now, Gregor could still do without the
chest of drawers if need be, but the

writing desk really had to stay.

And scarcely had the women left the room
with the chest of drawers, groaning as they

pushed it, when Gregor stuck his head out
from under the sofa to take a look how he

could intervene cautiously and with as much
consideration as possible.

But unfortunately it was his mother who
came back into the room first, while Grete

had her arms wrapped around the chest of
drawers in the next room and was rocking it

back and forth by herself, without moving
it from its position.

His mother was not used to the sight of
Gregor; he could have made her ill, and so,

frightened, Gregor scurried backwards right
to the other end of the sofa, but he could

no longer prevent the sheet from moving
forward a little.

That was enough to catch his mother's
attention.

She came to a halt, stood still for a
moment, and then went back to Grete.

Although Gregor kept repeating to himself
over and over that really nothing unusual

was going on, that only a few pieces of
furniture were being rearranged, he soon

had to admit to himself that the movements

of the women to and fro, their quiet
conversations, and the scratching of the

furniture on the floor affected him like a
great swollen commotion on all sides, and,

so firmly was he pulling in his head and

legs and pressing his body into the floor,
he had to tell himself unequivocally that

he wouldn't be able to endure all this much
longer.

They were cleaning out his room, taking
away from him everything he cherished; they

had already dragged out the chest of
drawers in which the fret saw and other

tools were kept, and they were now

loosening the writing desk which was fixed
tight to the floor, the desk on which he,

as a business student, a school student,
indeed even as an elementary school

student, had written out his assignments.

At that moment he really didn't have any
more time to check the good intentions of

the two women, whose existence he had in
any case almost forgotten, because in their

exhaustion they were working really

silently, and the heavy stumbling of their
feet was the only sound to be heard.

And so he scuttled out--the women were just
propping themselves up on the writing desk

in the next room in order to take a
breather--changing the direction of his

path four times.

He really didn't know what he should rescue
first.

Then he saw hanging conspicuously on the
wall, which was otherwise already empty,

the picture of the woman dressed in nothing
but fur.

He quickly scurried up over it and pressed
himself against the glass which held it in

place and which made his hot abdomen feel
good.

At least this picture, which Gregor at the
moment completely concealed, surely no one

would now take away.

He twisted his head towards the door of the
living room to observe the women as they

came back in.
They had not allowed themselves very much

rest and were coming back right away.

Grete had placed her arm around her mother
and held her tightly.

"So what shall we take now?" said Grete and
looked around her.

Then her glance met Gregor's from the wall.

She kept her composure only because her
mother was there.

She bent her face towards her mother in
order to prevent her from looking around,

and said, although in a trembling voice and
too quickly, "Come, wouldn't it be better

to go back to the living room for just
another moment?"

Grete's purpose was clear to Gregor: she
wanted to bring his mother to a safe place

and then chase him down from the wall.

Well, let her just try!
He squatted on his picture and did not hand

it over.
He would sooner spring into Grete's face.

But Grete's words had immediately made the
mother very uneasy.

She walked to the side, caught sight of the
enormous brown splotch on the flowered

wallpaper, and, before she became truly
aware that what she was looking at was

Gregor, screamed out in a high pitched raw

voice "Oh God, oh God" and fell with
outstretched arms, as if she was

surrendering everything, down onto the
couch and lay there motionless.

"Gregor, you.

.
." cried out his sister with a raised fist

and an urgent glare.

Since his transformation these were the
first words which she had directed right at

him.

She ran into the room next door to bring
some spirits or other with which she could

revive her mother from her fainting spell.

Gregor wanted to help as well--there was
time enough to save the picture--but he was

stuck fast on the glass and had to tear
himself loose forcefully.

Then he also scurried into the next room,
as if he could give his sister some advice,

as in earlier times, but then he had to
stand there idly behind her, while she

rummaged about among various small bottles.

Still, she was frightened when she turned
around.

A bottle fell onto the floor and shattered.

A splinter of glass wounded Gregor in the
face, some corrosive medicine or other

dripped over him.

Now, without lingering any longer, Grete
took as many small bottles as she could

hold and ran with them into her mother.
She slammed the door shut with her foot.

Gregor was now shut off from his mother,
who was perhaps near death, thanks to him.

He could not open the door, and he did not
want to chase away his sister who had to

remain with her mother.

At this point he had nothing to do but
wait, and overwhelmed with self-reproach

and worry, he began to creep and crawl over
everything: walls, furniture, and ceiling.

Finally, in his despair, as the entire room
started to spin around him, he fell onto

the middle of the large table.
A short time elapsed.

Gregor lay there limply.

All around was still.
Perhaps that was a good sign.

Then there was ring at the door.

The servant girl was naturally shut up in
her kitchen, and therefore Grete had to go

to open the door.
The father had arrived.

"What's happened?" were his first words.

Grete's appearance had told him everything.
Grete replied with a dull voice; evidently

she was pressing her face into her father's
chest: "Mother fainted, but she's getting

better now.

Gregor has broken loose."
"Yes, I have expected that," said his

father, "I always told you that, but you
women don't want to listen."

It was clear to Gregor that his father had
badly misunderstood Grete's short message

and was assuming that Gregor had committed
some violent crime or other.

Thus, Gregor now had to find his father to
calm him down, for he had neither the time

nor the ability to explain things to him.

And so he rushed away to the door of his
room and pushed himself against it, so that

his father could see right away as he
entered from the hall that Gregor fully

intended to return at once to his room,

that it was not necessary to drive him
back, but that one only needed to open the

door, and he would disappear immediately.
But his father was not in the mood to

observe such niceties.

"Ah," he yelled as soon as he entered, with
a tone as if he were all at once angry and

pleased.

Gregor pulled his head back from the door
and raised it in the direction of his

father.
He had not really pictured his father as he

now stood there.

Of course, what with his new style of
creeping all around, he had in the past

while neglected to pay attention to what
was going on in the rest of the apartment,

as he had done before, and really should

have grasped the fact that he would
encounter different conditions.

Nevertheless, nevertheless, was that still
his father?

Was that the same man who had lain
exhausted and buried in bed in earlier days

when Gregor was setting out on a business
trip, who had received him on the evenings

of his return in a sleeping gown and arm

chair, totally incapable of standing up,
who had only lifted his arm as a sign of

happiness, and who in their rare strolls
together a few Sundays a year and on the

important holidays made his way slowly

forwards between Gregor and his mother--who
themselves moved slowly--always a bit more

slowly than them, bundled up in his old
coat, all the time setting down his walking

stick carefully, and who, when he had

wanted to say something, almost always
stood still and gathered his entourage

around him?

But now he was standing up really straight,
dressed in a tight-fitting blue uniform

with gold buttons, like the ones servants
wear in a banking company.

Above the high stiff collar of his jacket
his firm double chin stuck out prominently,

beneath his bushy eyebrows the glance of
his black eyes was freshly penetrating and

alert, his otherwise dishevelled white hair

was combed down into a carefully exact
shining part.

He threw his cap, on which a gold monogram,
apparently the symbol of the bank, was

affixed, in an arc across the entire room
onto the sofa and moved, throwing back the

edge of the long coat of his uniform, with

his hands in his trouser pockets and a grim
face, right up to Gregor.

He really didn't know what he had in mind,
but he raised his foot uncommonly high

anyway, and Gregor was astonished at the
gigantic size of the sole of his boot.

However, he did not linger on that point.

For he knew from the first day of his new
life that, as far as he was concerned, his

father considered the greatest force the
only appropriate response.

And so he scurried away from his father,
stopped when his father remained standing,

and scampered forward again when his father
merely stirred.

In this way they made their way around the
room repeatedly, without anything decisive

taking place.
In fact, because of the slow pace, it

didn't look like a chase.

Gregor remained on the floor for the time
being, especially since he was afraid that

his father could take a flight up onto the
wall or the ceiling as an act of real

malice.

At any event, Gregor had to tell himself
that he couldn't keep up this running

around for a long time, because whenever
his father took a single step, he had to go

through an enormous number of movements.

Already he was starting to suffer from a
shortage of breath, just as in his earlier

days when his lungs had been quite
unreliable.

As he now staggered around in this way in
order to gather all his energies for

running, hardly keeping his eyes open and
feeling so listless that he had no notion

at all of any escape other than by running

and had almost already forgotten that the
walls were available to him, although they

were obstructed by carefully carved
furniture full of sharp points and spikes,

at that moment something or other thrown

casually flew down close by and rolled in
front of him.

It was an apple.
Immediately a second one flew after it.

Gregor stood still in fright.

Further running away was useless, for his
father had decided to bombard him.

From the fruit bowl on the sideboard his
father had filled his pockets.

And now, without for the moment taking
accurate aim, he was throwing apple after

apple.

These small red apples rolled around on the
floor, as if electrified, and collided with

each other.
A weakly thrown apple grazed Gregor's back

but skidded off harmlessly.

However, another thrown immediately after
that one drove into Gregor's back really

hard.

Gregor wanted to drag himself off, as if
the unexpected and incredible pain would go

away if he changed his position.

But he felt as if he was nailed in place
and lay stretched out completely confused

in all his senses.

Only with his final glance did he notice
how the door of his room was pulled open

and how, right in front of his sister--who
was yelling--his mother ran out in her

undergarments, for his sister had undressed

her in order to give her some freedom to
breathe in her fainting spell, and how his

mother then ran up to his father, on the
way her tied up skirts slipped toward the

floor one after the other, and how,

tripping over her skirts, she hurled
herself onto his father and, throwing her

arms around him, in complete union with
him--but at this moment Gregor's powers of

sight gave way--as her hands reached to the

back of his father's head and she begged
him to spare Gregor's life.

CHAPTER III.

Gregor's serious wound, from which he
suffered for over a month--since no one

ventured to remove the apple, it remained
in his flesh as a visible reminder--seemed

by itself to have reminded the father that,

in spite of his present unhappy and hateful
appearance, Gregor was a member of the

family, something one should not treat as
an enemy, and that it was, on the contrary,

a requirement of family duty to suppress

one's aversion and to endure--nothing else,
just endure.

And if through his wound Gregor had now
apparently lost for good his ability to

move and for the time being needed many,
many minutes to crawl across his room, like

an aged invalid--so far as creeping up high

was concerned, that was unimaginable--
nevertheless for this worsening of his

condition, in his opinion, he did get
completely satisfactory compensation,

because every day towards evening the door

to the living room, which he was in the
habit of keeping a sharp eye on even one or

two hours beforehand, was opened, so that
he, lying down in the darkness of his room,

invisible from the living room, could see

the entire family at the illuminated table
and listen to their conversation, to a

certain extent with their common
permission, a situation quite different

from what had happened before.

Of course, it was no longer the animated
social interaction of former times, which

Gregor in small hotel rooms had always
thought about with a certain longing, when,

tired out, he had had to throw himself into
the damp bedclothes.

For the most part what went on now was very
quiet.

After the evening meal, the father fell
asleep quickly in his arm chair.

The mother and sister talked guardedly to
each other in the stillness.

Bent far over, the mother sewed fine
undergarments for a fashion shop.

The sister, who had taken on a job as a
salesgirl, in the evening studied

stenography and French, so as perhaps later
to obtain a better position.

Sometimes the father woke up and, as if he
was quite ignorant that he had been asleep,

said to the mother "How long you have been
sewing today?" and went right back to

sleep, while the mother and the sister
smiled tiredly to each other.

With a sort of stubbornness the father
refused to take off his servant's uniform

even at home, and while his sleeping gown
hung unused on the coat hook, the father

dozed completely dressed in his place, as

if he was always ready for his
responsibility and even here was waiting

for the voice of his superior.

As a result, in spite of all the care of
the mother and sister, his uniform, which

even at the start was not new, grew dirty,
and Gregor looked, often for the entire

evening, at this clothing, with stains all

over it and with its gold buttons always
polished, in which the old man, although

very uncomfortable, slept peacefully
nonetheless.

As soon as the clock struck ten, the mother
tried gently encouraging the father to wake

up and then persuading him to go to bed, on
the ground that he couldn't get a proper

sleep here and that the father, who had to

report for service at six o'clock, really
needed a good sleep.

But in his stubbornness, which had gripped
him since he had become a servant, he

insisted always on staying even longer by
the table, although he regularly fell

asleep and then could only be prevailed

upon with the greatest difficulty to trade
his chair for the bed.

No matter how much the mother and sister
might at that point work on him with small

admonitions, for a quarter of an hour he
would remain shaking his head slowly, his

eyes closed, without standing up.

The mother would pull him by the sleeve and
speak flattering words into his ear; the

sister would leave her work to help her
mother, but that would not have the desired

effect on the father.

He would settle himself even more deeply in
his arm chair.

Only when the two women grabbed him under
the armpits would he throw his eyes open,

look back and forth at the mother and
sister, and habitually say "This is a life.

This is the peace and quiet of my old age."

And propped up by both women, he would
heave himself up elaborately, as if for him

it was the greatest trouble, allow himself
to be led to the door by the women, wave

them away there, and proceed on his own

from there, while the mother quickly threw
down her sewing implements and the sister

her pen in order to run after the father
and help him some more.

In this overworked and exhausted family who
had time to worry any longer about Gregor

more than was absolutely necessary?
The household was constantly getting

smaller.

The servant girl was now let go.
A huge bony cleaning woman with white hair

flying all over her head came in the
morning and evening to do the heaviest

work.

The mother took care of everything else in
addition to her considerable sewing work.

It even happened that various pieces of
family jewellery, which previously the

mother and sister had been overjoyed to
wear on social and festive occasions, were

sold, as Gregor found out in the evening

from the general discussion of the prices
they had fetched.

But the greatest complaint was always that
they could not leave this apartment, which

was too big for their present means, since
it was impossible to imagine how Gregor

might be moved.

But Gregor fully recognized that it was not
just consideration for him which was

preventing a move, for he could have been
transported easily in a suitable box with a

few air holes.

The main thing holding the family back from
a change in living quarters was far more

their complete hopelessness and the idea
that they had been struck by a misfortune

like no one else in their entire circle of
relatives and acquaintances.

What the world demands of poor people they
now carried out to an extreme degree.

The father bought breakfast to the petty
officials at the bank, the mother

sacrificed herself for the undergarments of
strangers, the sister behind her desk was

at the beck and call of customers, but the

family's energies did not extend any
further.

And the wound in his back began to pain
Gregor all over again, when now mother and

sister, after they had escorted the father
to bed, came back, let their work lie,

moved close together, and sat cheek to

cheek and when his mother would now say,
pointing to Gregor's room, "Close the door,

Grete," and when Gregor was again in the
darkness, while close by the women mingled

their tears or, quite dry eyed, stared at
the table.

Gregor spent his nights and days with
hardly any sleep.

Sometimes he thought that the next time the
door opened he would take over the family

arrangements just as he had earlier.

In his imagination appeared again, after a
long time, his employer and supervisor and

the apprentices, the excessively spineless
custodian, two or three friends from other

businesses, a chambermaid from a hotel in

the provinces, a loving fleeting memory, a
female cashier from a hat shop, whom he had

seriously but too slowly courted--they all
appeared mixed in with strangers or people

he had already forgotten, but instead of

helping him and his family, they were all
unapproachable, and he was happy to see

them disappear.
But then he was in no mood to worry about

his family.

He was filled with sheer anger over the
wretched care he was getting, even though

he couldn't imagine anything which he might
have an appetite for.

Still, he made plans about how he could
take from the larder what he at all account

deserved, even if he wasn't hungry.

Without thinking any more about how they
might be able to give Gregor special

pleasure, the sister now kicked some food
or other very quickly into his room in the

morning and at noon, before she ran off to

her shop, and in the evening, quite
indifferent to whether the food had perhaps

only been tasted or, what happened most
frequently, remained entirely undisturbed,

she whisked it out with one sweep of her
broom.

The task of cleaning his room, which she
now always carried out in the evening,

could not be done any more quickly.

Streaks of dirt ran along the walls; here
and there lay tangles of dust and garbage.

At first, when his sister arrived, Gregor
positioned himself in a particularly filthy

corner in order with this posture to make
something of a protest.

But he could have well stayed there for
weeks without his sister's changing her

ways.

In fact, she perceived the dirt as much as
he did, but she had decided just to let it

stay.

In this business, with a touchiness which
was quite new to her and which had

generally taken over the entire family, she
kept watch to see that the cleaning of

Gregor's room remained reserved for her.

Once his mother had undertaken a major
cleaning of Gregor's room, which she had

only completed successfully after using a
few buckets of water.

But the extensive dampness made Gregor sick
and he lay supine, embittered and immobile

on the couch.
However, the mother's punishment was not

delayed for long.

For in the evening the sister had hardly
observed the change in Gregor's room before

she ran into the living room mightily
offended and, in spite of her mother's hand

lifted high in entreaty, broke out in a fit
of crying.

Her parents--the father had, of course,
woken up with a start in his arm chair--at

first looked at her astonished and
helpless, until they started to get

agitated.

Turning to his right, the father heaped
reproaches on the mother that she was not

to take over the cleaning of Gregor's room
from the sister and, turning to his left,

he shouted at the sister that she would no

longer be allowed to clean Gregor's room
ever again, while the mother tried to pull

the father, beside himself in his
excitement, into the bed room.

The sister, shaken by her crying fit,
pounded on the table with her tiny fists,

and Gregor hissed at all this, angry that
no one thought about shutting the door and

sparing him the sight of this commotion.

But even when the sister, exhausted from
her daily work, had grown tired of caring

for Gregor as she had before, even then the
mother did not have to come at all on her

behalf.

And Gregor did not have to be neglected.
For now the cleaning woman was there.

This old widow, who in her long life must
have managed to survive the worst with the

help of her bony frame, had no real horror
of Gregor.

Without being in the least curious, she had
once by chance opened Gregor's door.

At the sight of Gregor, who, totally
surprised, began to scamper here and there,

although no one was chasing him, she
remained standing with her hands folded

across her stomach staring at him.

Since then she did not fail to open the
door furtively a little every morning and

evening to look in on Gregor.

At first, she also called him to her with
words which she presumably thought were

friendly, like "Come here for a bit, old
dung beetle!" or "Hey, look at the old dung

beetle!"

Addressed in such a manner, Gregor answered
nothing, but remained motionless in his

place, as if the door had not been opened
at all.

If only, instead of allowing this cleaning
woman to disturb him uselessly whenever she

felt like it, they had given her orders to
clean up his room every day!

One day in the early morning--a hard
downpour, perhaps already a sign of the

coming spring, struck the window panes--
when the cleaning woman started up once

again with her usual conversation, Gregor

was so bitter that he turned towards her,
as if for an attack, although slowly and

weakly.

But instead of being afraid of him, the
cleaning woman merely lifted up a chair

standing close by the door and, as she
stood there with her mouth wide open, her

intention was clear: she would close her

mouth only when the chair in her hand had
been thrown down on Gregor's back.

"This goes no further, all right?" she
asked, as Gregor turned himself around

again, and she placed the chair calmly back
in the corner.

Gregor ate hardly anything any more.

Only when he chanced to move past the food
which had been prepared did he, as a game,

take a bit into his mouth, hold it there
for hours, and generally spit it out again.

At first he thought it might be his sadness
over the condition of his room which kept

him from eating, but he very soon became
reconciled to the alterations in his room.

People had grown accustomed to put into
storage in his room things which they

couldn't put anywhere else, and at this
point there were many such things, now that

they had rented one room of the apartment
to three lodgers.

These solemn gentlemen--all three had full
beards, as Gregor once found out through a

crack in the door--were meticulously intent
on tidiness, not only in their own room

but, since they had now rented a room here,

in the entire household, and particularly
in the kitchen.

They simply did not tolerate any useless or
shoddy stuff.

Moreover, for the most part they had
brought with them their own pieces of

furniture.

Thus, many items had become superfluous,
and these were not really things one could

sell or things people wanted to throw out.

All these items ended up in Gregor's room,
even the box of ashes and the garbage pail

from the kitchen.

The cleaning woman, always in a hurry,
simply flung anything that was momentarily

useless into Gregor's room.
Fortunately Gregor generally saw only the

relevant object and the hand which held it.

The cleaning woman perhaps was intending,
when time and opportunity allowed, to take

the stuff out again or to throw everything
out all at once, but in fact the things

remained lying there, wherever they had

ended up at the first throw, unless Gregor
squirmed his way through the accumulation

of junk and moved it.

At first he was forced to do this because
otherwise there was no room for him to

creep around, but later he did it with a
growing pleasure, although after such

movements, tired to death and feeling
wretched, he didn't budge for hours.

Because the lodgers sometimes also took
their evening meal at home in the common

living room, the door to the living room
stayed shut on many evenings.

But Gregor had no trouble at all going
without the open door.

Already on many evenings when it was open
he had not availed himself of it, but,

without the family noticing, was stretched
out in the darkest corner of his room.

However, once the cleaning woman had left
the door to the living room slightly ajar,

and it remained open even when the lodgers
came in in the evening and the lights were

put on.

They sat down at the head of the table,
where in earlier days the mother, the

father, and Gregor had eaten, unfolded
their serviettes, and picked up their

knives and forks.

The mother immediately appeared in the door
with a dish of meat and right behind her

the sister with a dish piled high with
potatoes.

The food gave off a lot of steam.

The gentlemen lodgers bent over the plate
set before them, as if they wanted to check

it before eating, and in fact the one who
sat in the middle--for the other two he

seemed to serve as the authority--cut off a

piece of meat still on the plate obviously
to establish whether it was sufficiently

tender and whether or not something should
be shipped back to the kitchen.

He was satisfied, and mother and sister,
who had looked on in suspense, began to

breathe easily and to smile.
The family itself ate in the kitchen.

In spite of that, before the father went
into the kitchen, he came into the room and

with a single bow, cap in hand, made a tour
of the table.

The lodgers rose up collectively and
murmured something in their beards.

Then, when they were alone, they ate almost
in complete silence.

It seemed odd to Gregor that, out of all
the many different sorts of sounds of

eating, what was always audible was their
chewing teeth, as if by that Gregor should

be shown that people needed their teeth to

eat and that nothing could be done even
with the most handsome toothless jawbone.

"I really do have an appetite," Gregor said
to himself sorrowfully, "but not for these

things.

How these lodgers stuff themselves, and I
am dying."

On this very evening the violin sounded
from the kitchen.

Gregor didn't remember hearing it all
through this period.

The lodgers had already ended their night
meal, the middle one had pulled out a

newspaper and had given each of the other
two a page, and they were now leaning back,

reading and smoking.

When the violin started playing, they
became attentive, got up, and went on

tiptoe to the hall door, at which they
remained standing pressed up against one

another.

They must have been audible from the
kitchen, because the father called out

"Perhaps the gentlemen don't like the
playing?

It can be stopped at once."

"On the contrary," stated the lodger in the
middle, "might the young woman not come

into us and play in the room here, where it
is really much more comfortable and

cheerful?"

"Oh, thank you," cried out the father, as
if he were the one playing the violin.

The men stepped back into the room and
waited.

Soon the father came with the music stand,
the mother with the sheet music, and the

sister with the violin.
The sister calmly prepared everything for

the recital.

The parents, who had never previously
rented a room and therefore exaggerated

their politeness to the lodgers, dared not
sit on their own chairs.

The father leaned against the door, his
right hand stuck between two buttons of his

buttoned-up uniform.
The mother, however, accepted a chair

offered by one lodger.

Since she left the chair sit where the
gentleman had chanced to put it, she sat to

one side in a corner.
The sister began to play.

The father and mother, one on each side,
followed attentively the movements of her

hands.

Attracted by the playing, Gregor had
ventured to advance a little further

forward and his head was already in the
living room.

He scarcely wondered about the fact that
recently he had had so little consideration

for the others.
Earlier this consideration had been

something he was proud of.

And for that very reason he would have had
at this moment more reason to hide away,

because as a result of the dust which lay
all over his room and flew around with the

slightest movement, he was totally covered
in dirt.

On his back and his sides he carted around
with him dust, threads, hair, and remnants

of food.

His indifference to everything was much too
great for him to lie on his back and scour

himself on the carpet, as he often had done
earlier during the day.

In spite of his condition he had no
timidity about inching forward a bit on the

spotless floor of the living room.
In any case, no one paid him any attention.

The family was all caught up in the violin
playing.

The lodgers, by contrast, who for the
moment had placed themselves, hands in

their trouser pockets, behind the music
stand much too close to the sister, so that

they could all see the sheet music,

something that must certainly bother the
sister, soon drew back to the window

conversing in low voices with bowed heads,
where they then remained, worriedly

observed by the father.

It now seemed really clear that, having
assumed they were to hear a beautiful or

entertaining violin recital, they were
disappointed and were allowing their peace

and quiet to be disturbed only out of
politeness.

The way in which they all blew the smoke
from their cigars out of their noses and

mouths in particular led one to conclude
that they were very irritated.

And yet his sister was playing so
beautifully.

Her face was turned to the side, her gaze
followed the score intently and sadly.

Gregor crept forward still a little
further, keeping his head close against the

floor in order to be able to catch her gaze
if possible.

Was he an animal that music so captivated
him?

For him it was as if the way to the unknown
nourishment he craved was revealing itself.

He was determined to press forward right to
his sister, to tug at her dress, and to

indicate to her in this way that she might
still come with her violin into his room,

because here no one valued the recital as
he wanted to value it.

He did not wish to let her go from his room
any more, at least not as long as he lived.

His frightening appearance would for the
first time become useful for him.

He wanted to be at all the doors of his
room simultaneously and snarl back at the

attackers.

However, his sister should not be compelled
but would remain with him voluntarily.

She would sit next to him on the sofa, bend
down her ear to him, and he would then

confide in her that he firmly intended to
send her to the conservatory and that, if

his misfortune had not arrived in the

interim, he would have declared all this
last Christmas--had Christmas really

already come and gone?--and would have
brooked no argument.

After this explanation his sister would
break out in tears of emotion, and Gregor

would lift himself up to her armpit and
kiss her throat, which she, from the time

she started going to work, had left exposed
without a band or a collar.

"Mr. Samsa," called out the middle lodger
to the father and, without uttering a

further word, pointed his index finger at
Gregor as he was moving slowly forward.

The violin fell silent.

The middle lodger smiled, first shaking his
head once at his friends, and then looked

down at Gregor once more.

Rather than driving Gregor back again, the
father seemed to consider it of prime

importance to calm down the lodgers,
although they were not at all upset and

Gregor seemed to entertain them more than
the violin recital.

The father hurried over to them and with
outstretched arms tried to push them into

their own room and simultaneously to block
their view of Gregor with his own body.

At this point they became really somewhat
irritated, although one no longer knew

whether that was because of the father's
behaviour or because of knowledge they had

just acquired that they had, without
knowing it, a neighbour like Gregor.

They demanded explanations from his father,
raised their arms to make their points,

tugged agitatedly at their beards, and
moved back towards their room quite slowly.

In the meantime, the isolation which had
suddenly fallen upon his sister after the

sudden breaking off of the recital had
overwhelmed her.

She had held onto the violin and bow in her
limp hands for a little while and had

continued to look at the sheet music as if
she was still playing.

All at once she pulled herself together,
placed the instrument in her mother's lap--

the mother was still sitting in her chair
having trouble breathing for her lungs were

labouring--and had run into the next room,

which the lodgers, pressured by the father,
were already approaching more rapidly.

One could observe how under the sister's
practiced hands the sheets and pillows on

the beds were thrown on high and arranged.

Even before the lodgers had reached the
room, she was finished fixing the beds and

was slipping out.

The father seemed so gripped once again
with his stubbornness that he forgot about

the respect which he always owed to his
renters.

He pressed on and on, until at the door of
the room the middle gentleman stamped

loudly with his foot and thus brought the
father to a standstill.

"I hereby declare," the middle lodger said,
raising his hand and casting his glance

both on the mother and the sister, "that
considering the disgraceful conditions

prevailing in this apartment and family"--

with this he spat decisively on the floor--
"I immediately cancel my room.

I will, of course, pay nothing at all for
the days which I have lived here; on the

contrary I shall think about whether or not
I will initiate some sort of action against

you, something which--believe me--will be
very easy to establish."

He fell silent and looked directly in front
of him, as if he was waiting for something.

In fact, his two friends immediately joined
in with their opinions, "We also give

immediate notice."
At that he seized the door handle, banged

the door shut, and locked it.

The father groped his way tottering to his
chair and let himself fall in it.

It looked as if he was stretching out for
his usual evening snooze, but the heavy

nodding of his head, which looked as if it
was without support, showed that he was not

sleeping at all.

Gregor had lain motionless the entire time
in the spot where the lodgers had caught

him.

Disappointment with the collapse of his
plan and perhaps also weakness brought on

by his severe hunger made it impossible for
him to move.

He was certainly afraid that a general
disaster would break over him at any

moment, and he waited.

He was not even startled when the violin
fell from the mother's lap, out from under

her trembling fingers, and gave off a
reverberating tone.

"My dear parents," said the sister banging
her hand on the table by way of an

introduction, "things cannot go on any
longer in this way.

Maybe if you don't understand that, well,
I do.

I will not utter my brother's name in front
of this monster, and thus I say only that

we must try to get rid of it.

We have tried what is humanly possible to
take care of it and to be patient.

I believe that no one can criticize us in
the slightest."

"She is right in a thousand ways," said the
father to himself.

The mother, who was still incapable of
breathing properly, began to cough numbly

with her hand held up over her mouth and a
manic expression in her eyes.

The sister hurried over to her mother and
held her forehead.

The sister's words seemed to have led the
father to certain reflections.

He sat upright, played with his uniform hat
among the plates, which still lay on the

table from the lodgers' evening meal, and
looked now and then at the motionless

Gregor.

"We must try to get rid of it," the sister
now said decisively to the father, for the

mother, in her coughing fit, was not
listening to anything.

"It is killing you both.

I see it coming.
When people have to work as hard as we all

do, they cannot also tolerate this endless
torment at home.

I just can't go on any more."

And she broke out into such a crying fit
that her tears flowed out down onto her

mother's face.
She wiped them off her mother with

mechanical motions of her hands.

"Child," said the father sympathetically
and with obvious appreciation, "then what

should we do?"

The sister only shrugged her shoulders as a
sign of the perplexity which, in contrast

to her previous confidence, had come over
her while she was crying.

"If only he understood us," said the father
in a semi-questioning tone.

The sister, in the midst of her sobbing,
shook her hand energetically as a sign that

there was no point thinking of that.

"If he only understood us," repeated the
father and by shutting his eyes he absorbed

the sister's conviction of the
impossibility of this point, "then perhaps

some compromise would be possible with him.

But as it is.
.

."
"It must be gotten rid of," cried the

"That is the only way, father.
You must try to get rid of the idea that

sister.

this is Gregor.
The fact that we have believed for so long,

that is truly our real misfortune.

But how can it be Gregor?
If it were Gregor, he would have long ago

realized that a communal life among human
beings is not possible with such an animal

and would have gone away voluntarily.

Then we would not have a brother, but we
could go on living and honour his memory.

But this animal plagues us.

It drives away the lodgers, will obviously
take over the entire apartment, and leave

us to spend the night in the alley.
Just look, father," she suddenly cried out,

"he's already starting up again."

With a fright which was totally
incomprehensible to Gregor, the sister even

left the mother, pushed herself away from
her chair, as if she would sooner sacrifice

her mother than remain in Gregor's

vicinity, and rushed behind her father who,
excited merely by her behaviour, also stood

up and half raised his arms in front of the
sister as though to protect her.

But Gregor did not have any notion of
wishing to create problems for anyone and

certainly not for his sister.

He had just started to turn himself around
in order to creep back into his room, quite

a startling sight, since, as a result of
his suffering condition, he had to guide

himself through the difficulty of turning

around with his head, in this process
lifting and banging it against the floor

several times.
He paused and looked around.

His good intentions seem to have been
recognized.

The fright had lasted only for a moment.
Now they looked at him in silence and

sorrow.

His mother lay in her chair, with her legs
stretched out and pressed together; her

eyes were almost shut from weariness.
The father and sister sat next to one

another.

The sister had set her hands around the
father's neck.

"Now perhaps I can actually turn myself
around," thought Gregor and began the task

again.

He couldn't stop puffing at the effort and
had to rest now and then.

Besides, no one was urging him on.
It was all left to him on his own.

When he had completed turning around, he
immediately began to wander straight back.

He was astonished at the great distance
which separated him from his room and did

not understand in the least how in his
weakness he had covered the same distance a

short time before, almost without noticing
it.

Constantly intent only on creeping along
quickly, he hardly paid any attention to

the fact that no word or cry from his
family interrupted him.

Only when he was already in the door did he
turn his head, not completely, because he

felt his neck growing stiff.
At any rate he still saw that behind him

nothing had changed.

Only the sister was standing up.
His last glimpse brushed over the mother

who was now completely asleep.

Hardly was he inside his room when the door
was pushed shut very quickly, bolted fast,

and barred.

Gregor was startled by the sudden commotion
behind him, so much so that his little

limbs bent double under him.
It was his sister who had been in such a

hurry.

She had stood up right away, had waited,
and had then sprung forward nimbly.

Gregor had not heard anything of her
approach.

She cried out "Finally!" to her parents, as
she turned the key in the lock.

"What now?"
Gregor asked himself and looked around him

in the darkness.

He soon made the discovery that he could no
longer move at all.

He was not surprised at that.

On the contrary, it struck him as unnatural
that up to this point he had really been

able up to move around with these thin
little legs.

Besides he felt relatively content.

True, he had pains throughout his entire
body, but it seemed to him that they were

gradually becoming weaker and weaker and
would finally go away completely.

The rotten apple in his back and the
inflamed surrounding area, entirely covered

with white dust, he hardly noticed.
He remembered his family with deep feelings

of love.

In this business, his own thought that he
had to disappear was, if possible, even

more decisive than his sister's.

He remained in this state of empty and
peaceful reflection until the tower clock

struck three o'clock in the morning.
From the window he witnessed the beginning

of the general dawning outside.

Then without willing it, his head sank all
the way down, and from his nostrils flowed

out weakly his last breath.
Early in the morning the cleaning woman

came.

In her sheer energy and haste she banged
all the doors--in precisely the way people

had already asked her to avoid--so much so
that once she arrived a quiet sleep was no

longer possible anywhere in the entire
apartment.

In her customarily brief visit to Gregor
she at first found nothing special.

She thought he lay so immobile there
because he wanted to play the offended

party.
She gave him credit for as complete an

understanding as possible.

Since she happened to be holding the long
broom in her hand, she tried to tickle

Gregor with it from the door.

When that was quite unsuccessful, she
became irritated and poked Gregor a little,

and only when she had shoved him from his
place without any resistance did she become

attentive.

When she quickly realized the true state of
affairs, her eyes grew large, she whistled

to herself.
However, she didn't restrain herself for

long.

She pulled open the door of the bedroom and
yelled in a loud voice into the darkness,

"Come and look.
It's kicked the bucket.

It's lying there, totally snuffed!"

The Samsa married couple sat upright in
their marriage bed and had to get over

their fright at the cleaning woman before
they managed to grasp her message.

But then Mr. and Mrs. Samsa climbed very
quickly out of bed, one on either side.

Mr. Samsa threw the bedspread over his
shoulders, Mrs. Samsa came out only in her

night-shirt, and like this they stepped
into Gregor's room.

Meanwhile, the door of the living room, in
which Grete had slept since the lodgers had

arrived on the scene, had also opened.

She was fully clothed, as if she had not
slept at all; her white face also seem to

indicate that.

"Dead?" said Mrs. Samsa and looked
questioningly at the cleaning woman,

although she could check everything on her
own and even understand without a check.

"I should say so," said the cleaning woman
and, by way of proof, poked Gregor's body

with the broom a considerable distance more
to the side.

Mrs. Samsa made a movement as if she wished
to restrain the broom, but didn't do it.

"Well," said Mr. Samsa, "now we can give
thanks to God."

He crossed himself, and the three women
followed his example.

Grete, who did not take her eyes off the
corpse, said, "Look how thin he was.

He had eaten nothing for such a long time.

The meals which came in here came out again
exactly the same."

In fact, Gregor's body was completely flat
and dry.

That was apparent really for the first
time, now that he was no longer raised on

his small limbs and nothing else distracted
one's gaze.

"Grete, come into us for a moment," said
Mrs. Samsa with a melancholy smile, and

Grete went, not without looking back at the
corpse, behind her parents into the bed

room.

The cleaning woman shut the door and opened
the window wide.

In spite of the early morning, the fresh
air was partly tinged with warmth.

It was already the end of March.

The three lodgers stepped out of their room
and looked around for their breakfast,

astonished that they had been forgotten.

"Where is the breakfast?" asked the middle
one of the gentlemen grumpily to the

cleaning woman.

However, she laid her finger to her lips
and then quickly and silently indicated to

the lodgers that they could come into
Gregor's room.

So they came and stood in the room, which
was already quite bright, around Gregor's

corpse, their hands in the pockets of their
somewhat worn jackets.

Then the door of the bed room opened, and
Mr. Samsa appeared in his uniform, with his

wife on one arm and his daughter on the
other.

All were a little tear stained.

Now and then Grete pressed her face onto
her father's arm.

"Get out of my apartment immediately," said
Mr. Samsa and pulled open the door, without

letting go of the women.

"What do you mean?" said the middle lodger,
somewhat dismayed and with a sugary smile.

The two others kept their hands behind them
and constantly rubbed them against each

other, as if in joyful anticipation of a
great squabble which must end up in their

favour.

"I mean exactly what I say," replied Mr.
Samsa and went directly with his two female

companions up to the lodger.

The latter at first stood there motionless
and looked at the floor, as if matters were

arranging themselves in a new way in his
head.

"All right, then we'll go," he said and
looked up at Mr. Samsa as if, suddenly

overcome by humility, he was asking fresh
permission for this decision.

Mr. Samsa merely nodded to him repeatedly
with his eyes open wide.

Following that, the lodger actually went
with long strides immediately out into the

hall.

His two friends had already been listening
for a while with their hands quite still,

and now they hopped smartly after him, as
if afraid that Mr. Samsa could step into

the hall ahead of them and disturb their
reunion with their leader.

In the hall all three of them took their
hats from the coat rack, pulled their canes

from the cane holder, bowed silently, and
left the apartment.

In what turned out to be an entirely
groundless mistrust, Mr. Samsa stepped with

the two women out onto the landing, leaned
against the railing, and looked over as the

three lodgers slowly but steadily made

their way down the long staircase,
disappeared on each floor in a certain turn

of the stairwell, and in a few seconds came
out again.

The deeper they proceeded, the more the
Samsa family lost interest in them, and

when a butcher with a tray on his head come
to meet them and then with a proud bearing

ascended the stairs high above them, Mr.

Samsa., together with the women, left the
banister, and they all returned, as if

relieved, back into their apartment.
They decided to pass that day resting and

going for a stroll.

Not only had they earned this break from
work, but there was no question that they

really needed it.

And so they sat down at the table and wrote
three letters of apology: Mr. Samsa to his

supervisor, Mrs. Samsa to her client, and
Grete to her proprietor.

During the writing the cleaning woman came
in to say that she was going off, for her

morning work was finished.
The three people writing at first merely

nodded, without glancing up.

Only when the cleaning woman was still
unwilling to depart, did they look up

angrily.
"Well?" asked Mr. Samsa.

The cleaning woman stood smiling in the
doorway, as if she had a great stroke of

luck to report to the family but would only
do it if she was asked directly.

The almost upright small ostrich feather in
her hat, which had irritated Mr. Samsa

during her entire service, swayed lightly
in all directions.

"All right then, what do you really want?"
asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the cleaning lady

still usually respected.

"Well," answered the cleaning woman,
smiling so happily she couldn't go on

speaking right away, "about how that
rubbish from the next room should be thrown

out, you mustn't worry about it.

It's all taken care of."
Mrs. Samsa and Grete bent down to their

letters, as though they wanted to go on
writing.

Mr. Samsa, who noticed that the cleaning
woman wanted to start describing everything

in detail, decisively prevented her with an
outstretched hand.

But since she was not allowed to explain,
she remembered the great hurry she was in,

and called out, clearly insulted, "Bye bye,
everyone," turned around furiously and left

the apartment with a fearful slamming of
the door.

"This evening she'll be let go," said Mr.
Samsa, but he got no answer from either his

wife or from his daughter, because the
cleaning woman seemed to have upset once

again the tranquillity they had just
attained.

They got up, went to the window, and
remained there, with their arms about each

other.

Mr. Samsa turned around in his chair in
their direction and observed them quietly

for a while.
Then he called out, "All right, come here

then.

Let's finally get rid of old things.
And have a little consideration for me."

The women attended to him at once.
They rushed to him, caressed him, and

quickly ended their letters.

Then all three left the apartment together,
something they had not done for months now,

and took the electric tram into the open
air outside the city.

The car in which they were sitting by
themselves was totally engulfed by the warm

sun.

Leaning back comfortably in their seats,
they talked to each other about future

prospects, and they discovered that on
closer observation these were not at all

bad, for the three of them had employment,

about which they had not really questioned
each other at all, which was extremely

favourable and with especially promising
prospects.

The greatest improvement in their situation
at this moment, of course, had to come from

a change of dwelling.

Now they wanted to rent an apartment
smaller and cheaper but better situated and

generally more practical than the present
one, which Gregor had found.

While they amused themselves in this way,
it struck Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, almost at the

same moment, how their daughter, who was
getting more animated all the time, had

blossomed recently, in spite of all the

troubles which had made her cheeks pale,
into a beautiful and voluptuous young

woman.

Growing more silent and almost
unconsciously understanding each other in

their glances, they thought that the time
was now at hand to seek out a good honest

man for her.

And it was something of a confirmation of
their new dreams and good intentions when

at the end of their journey their daughter
got up first and stretched her young body.