Metamorphosis

by Franz Kafka

Translated by David Wyllie

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he

found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. 

He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a

little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and

divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was

hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any

moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the

size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he

looked.

"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream.

His room, a proper human room although a little too small,

lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A

collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table -

Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung a

picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated

magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a

lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,

raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower

arm towards the viewer.

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull

weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,

which made him feel quite sad. "How about if I sleep a

little bit longer and forget all this nonsense", he thought,

but that was something he was unable to do because he was

used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state

couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw

himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he

was. He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes

so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs,

and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain

there that he had never felt before.

"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that

I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business

like this takes much more effort than doing your own

business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of

travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and

irregular food, contact with different people all the time

so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly

with them. It can all go to Hell!" He felt a slight itch

up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back

towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better;

found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with

lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make

of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs

he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he

was overcome by a cold shudder.

He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early

all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got

to get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life

of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to the guest

house during the morning to copy out the contract, these

gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their

breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get

kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be

the best thing for me. If I didn't have my parents to think

about I'd have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have

gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him

everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He'd

fall right off his desk! And it's a funny sort of business

to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at your

subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go

right up close because the boss is hard of hearing. Well,

there's still some hope; once I've got the money together to

pay off my parents' debt to him - another five or six years

I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do. That's when

I'll make the big change. First of all though, I've got to

get up, my train leaves at five."

And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest

of drawers. "God in Heaven!" he thought. It was half past

six and the hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even

later than half past, more like quarter to seven. Had the

alarm clock not rung? He could see from the bed that it had

been set for four o'clock as it should have been; it

certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to

quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise? True,

he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the more

deeply because of that. What should he do now? The next

train went at seven; if he were to catch that he would have

to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still not

packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and

lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not

avoid his boss's anger as the office assistant would have

been there to see the five o'clock train go, he would have

put in his report about Gregor's not being there a long time

ago. The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless,

and with no understanding. What about if he reported sick?

But that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in

fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.

His boss would certainly come round with the doctor from the

medical insurance company, accuse his parents of having a

lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation not to make

any claim as the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill

but that many were workshy. And what's more, would he have

been entirely wrong in this case? Gregor did in fact, apart

from excessive sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel

completely well and even felt much hungrier than usual.

He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to

decide to get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter

to seven. There was a cautious knock at the door near his

head. "Gregor", somebody called - it was his mother - "it's

quarter to seven. Didn't you want to go somewhere?" That

gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own

voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice

he had had before. As if from deep inside him, there was a

painful and uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the

words could be made out at first but then there was a sort

of echo which made them unclear, leaving the hearer unsure

whether he had heard properly or not. Gregor had wanted to

give a full answer and explain everything, but in the

circumstances contented himself with saying: "Yes, mother,

yes, thank-you, I'm getting up now." The change in Gregor's

voice probably could not be noticed outside through the

wooden door, as his mother was satisfied with this

explanation and shuffled away. But this short conversation

made the other members of the family aware that Gregor,

against their expectations was still at home, and soon his

father came knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but

with his fist. "Gregor, Gregor", he called, "what's wrong?"

And after a short while he called again with a warning

deepness in his voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At the other side

door his sister came plaintively: "Gregor? Aren't you well?

Do you need anything?"

Gregor answered to both sides: "I'm ready, now", making an

effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by

enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between

each, individual word. His father went back to his

breakfast, but his sister whispered: "Gregor, open the door,

I beg of you." Gregor, however, had no thought of opening

the door, and instead congratulated himself for his cautious

habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors at

night even when he was at home.

The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace

without being disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to

have his breakfast. Only then would he consider what to do

next, as he was well aware that he would not bring his

thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in bed. He

remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed,

perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always

turned out to be pure imagination and he wondered how his

imaginings would slowly resolve themselves today. He did

not have the slightest doubt that the change in his voice

was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold,

which was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.

It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had

to blow himself up a little and they fell off by themselves.

But it became difficult after that, especially as he was so

exceptionally broad. He would have used his arms and his

hands to push himself up; but instead of them he only had

all those little legs continuously moving in different

directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If

he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one

that would stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to

do what he wanted with that leg, all the others seemed to be

set free and would move about painfully. "This is

something that can't be done in bed", Gregor said to

himself, "so don't keep trying to do it".

The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of

his body out of the bed, but he had never seen this lower

part, and could not imagine what it looked like; it turned

out to be too hard to move; it went so slowly; and finally,

almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly shoved himself

forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose the

wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and

learned from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of

his body might well, at present, be the most sensitive.

So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the

bed first, carefully turning his head to the side. This he

managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its

weight, the bulk of his body eventually followed slowly in

the direction of the head. But when he had at last got his

head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to

him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his

head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on

pushing himself forward the same way. And he could not

knock himself out now at any price; better to stay in bed

than lose consciousness.

It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been

earlier, but when he lay there sighing, and was once more

watching his legs as they struggled against each other even

harder than before, if that was possible, he could think of

no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos. He told

himself once more that it was not possible for him to stay

in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to

get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever

sacrifice. At the same time, though, he did not forget to

remind himself that calm consideration was much better than

rushing to desperate conclusions. At times like this he

would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly

as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the

narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had

little confidence or cheer to offer him. "Seven o'clock,

already", he said to himself when the clock struck again,

"seven o'clock, and there's still a fog like this." And he

lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he

perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back to

their real and natural state.

But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past

seven I'll definitely have to have got properly out of bed.

And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask

what's happened to me as well, as they open up at work

before seven o'clock." And so he set himself to the task of

swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at

the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed in

this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could

probably avoid injuring it. His back seemed to be quite

hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto

the carpet. His main concern was for the loud noise he was

bound to make, and which even through all the doors would

probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was something

that had to be risked.

When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed -

the new method was more of a game than an effort, all he had

to do was rock back and forth - it occurred to him how

simple everything would be if somebody came to help him.

Two strong people - he had his father and the maid in mind -

would have been more than enough; they would only have to

push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away

from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient

and careful as he swang over onto the floor, where,

hopefully, the little legs would find a use. Should he

really call for help though, even apart from the fact that

all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he

was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.

After a while he had already moved so far across that it

would have been hard for him to keep his balance if he

rocked too hard. The time was now ten past seven and he

would have to make a final decision very soon. Then there

was a ring at the door of the flat. "That'll be someone

from work", he said to himself, and froze very still,

although his little legs only became all the more lively as

they danced around. For a moment everything remained quiet.

"They're not opening the door", Gregor said to himself,

caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course, the

maid's firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it.

Gregor only needed to hear the visitor's first words of

greeting and he knew who it was - the chief clerk himself.

Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for

a company where they immediately became highly suspicious at

the slightest shortcoming? Were all employees, every one of

them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and

devoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he

couldn't get out of bed if he didn't spend at least a couple

of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really

not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries -

assuming enquiries were even necessary - did the chief clerk

have to come himself, and did they have to show the whole,

innocent family that this was so suspicious that only the

chief clerk could be trusted to have the wisdom to

investigate it? And more because these thoughts had made

him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself

with all his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump,

but it wasn't really a loud noise. His fall was softened a

little by the carpet, and Gregor's back was also more

elastic than he had thought, which made the sound muffled

and not too noticeable. He had not held his head carefully

enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in pain,

he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.

"Something's fallen down in there", said the chief clerk in

the room on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether

something of the sort that had happened to him today could

ever happen to the chief clerk too; you had to concede that

it was possible. But as if in gruff reply to this question,

the chief clerk's firm footsteps in his highly polished

boots could now be heard in the adjoining room. From the

room on his right, Gregor's sister whispered to him to let

him know: "Gregor, the chief clerk is here."

"Yes, I know", said Gregor to himself; but without daring to

raise his voice loud enough for his sister to hear him.

"Gregor", said his father now from the room to his left,

"the chief clerk has come round and wants to know why you

didn't leave on the early train. We don't know what to say

to him. And anyway, he wants to speak to you personally.

So please open up this door. I'm sure he'll be good enough

to forgive the untidiness of your room."

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

"He isn't well", said his mother to the chief clerk, while

his father continued to speak through the door. "He isn't

well, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have missed

a train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. It

nearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in the

evenings; he's been in town for a week now but stayed home

every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and just

reads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of

relaxation is working with his fretsaw. He's made a little

frame, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings,

you'll be amazed how nice it is; it's hanging up in his

room; you'll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door.

Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't have been able to

get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so stubborn;

and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is,

but he isn't."

"I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly and

thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss

any word of the conversation. "Well I can't think of any

other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa", said the chief

clerk, "I hope it's nothing serious. But on the other hand,

I must say that if we people in commerce ever become

slightly unwell then, fortunately or unfortunately as you

like, we simply have to overcome it because of business

considerations." "Can the chief clerk come in to see you

now then?", asked his father impatiently, knocking at the

door again. "No", said Gregor. In the room on his right

there followed a painful silence; in the room on his left

his sister began to cry.

So why did his sister not go and join the others? She had

probably only just got up and had not even begun to get

dressed. And why was she crying? Was it because he had not

got up, and had not let the chief clerk in, because he was

in danger of losing his job and if that happened his boss

would once more pursue their parents with the same demands

as before? There was no need to worry about things like

that yet. Gregor was still there and had not the slightest

intention of abandoning his family. For the time being he

just lay there on the carpet, and no-one who knew the

condition he was in would seriously have expected him to let

the chief clerk in. It was only a minor discourtesy, and a

suitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it

was not something for which Gregor could be sacked on the

spot. And it seemed to Gregor much more sensible to leave

him now in peace instead of disturbing him with talking at

him and crying. But the others didn't know what was

happening, they were worried, that would excuse their

behaviour. The chief clerk now raised his voice, "Mr.

Samsa", he called to him, "what is wrong? You barricade

yourself in your room, give us no more than yes or no for an

answer, you are causing serious and unnecessary concern to

your parents and you fail - and I mention this just by the

way - you fail to carry out your business duties in a way

that is quite unheard of. I'm speaking here on behalf of

your parents and of your employer, and really must request a

clear and immediate explanation. I am astonished, quite

astonished. I thought I knew you as a calm and sensible

person, and now you suddenly seem to be showing off with

peculiar whims. This morning, your employer did suggest a

possible reason for your failure to appear, it's true - it

had to do with the money that was recently entrusted to you

- but I came near to giving him my word of honour that that

could not be the right explanation. But now that I see your

incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wish

whatsoever to intercede on your behalf. And nor is your

position all that secure. I had originally intended to say

all this to you in private, but since you cause me to waste

my time here for no good reason I don't see why your parents

should not also learn of it. Your turnover has been very

unsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it's not the time

of year to do especially good business, we recognise that;

but there simply is no time of year to do no business at

all, Mr. Samsa, we cannot allow there to be."

"But Sir", called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all

else in the excitement, "I'll open up immediately, just a

moment. I'm slightly unwell, an attack of dizziness, I

haven't been able to get up. I'm still in bed now. I'm

quite fresh again now, though. I'm just getting out of bed.

Just a moment. Be patient! It's not quite as easy as I'd

thought. I'm quite alright now, though. It's shocking,

what can suddenly happen to a person! I was quite alright

last night, my parents know about it, perhaps better than

me, I had a small symptom of it last night already. They

must have noticed it. I don't know why I didn't let you

know at work! But you always think you can get over an

illness without staying at home. Please, don't make my

parents suffer! There's no basis for any of the accusations

you're making; nobody's ever said a word to me about any of

these things. Maybe you haven't read the latest contracts I

sent in. I'll set off with the eight o'clock train, as

well, these few hours of rest have given me strength. You

don't need to wait, sir; I'll be in the office soon after

you, and please be so good as to tell that to the boss and

recommend me to him!" And while Gregor gushed out these

words, hardly knowing what he was saying, he made his way

over to the chest of drawers - this was easily done,

probably because of the practise he had already had in bed -

where he now tried to get himself upright. He really did

want to open the door, really did want to let them see him

and to speak with the chief clerk; the others were being so

insistent, and he was curious to learn what they would say

when they caught sight of him. If they were shocked then it

would no longer be Gregor's responsibility and he could

rest. If, however, they took everything calmly he would

still have no reason to be upset, and if he hurried he

really could be at the station for eight o'clock. The first

few times he tried to climb up on the smooth chest of

drawers he just slid down again, but he finally gave himself

one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of

his body was in serious pain but he no longer gave any

attention to it. Now he let himself fall against the back

of a nearby chair and held tightly to the edges of it with

his little legs. By now he had also calmed down, and kept

quiet so that he could listen to what the chief clerk was

saying.

"Did you understand a word of all that?" the chief clerk

asked his parents, "surely he's not trying to make fools of

us". "Oh, God!" called his mother, who was already in

tears, "he could be seriously ill and we're making him

suffer. Grete! Grete!" she then cried. "Mother?" his sister

called from the other side. They communicated across

Gregor's room. "You'll have to go for the doctor straight

away. Gregor is ill. Quick, get the doctor. Did you hear

the way Gregor spoke just now?"

"That was the voice of an animal", said the chief clerk,

with a calmness that was in contrast with his mother's

screams. "Anna! Anna!" his father called into the kitchen

through the entrance hall, clapping his hands, "get a

locksmith here, now!" And the two girls, their skirts

swishing, immediately ran out through the hall, wrenching

open the front door of the flat as they went. How had his

sister managed to get dressed so quickly? There was no

sound of the door banging shut again; they must have left it

open; people often do in homes where something awful has

happened.

Gregor, in contrast, had become much calmer. So they

couldn't understand his words any more, although they seemed

clear enough to him, clearer than before - perhaps his ears

had become used to the sound. They had realised, though,

that there was something wrong with him, and were ready to

help. The first response to his situation had been

confident and wise, and that made him feel better. He felt

that he had been drawn back in among people, and from the

doctor and the locksmith he expected great and surprising

achievements - although he did not really distinguish one

from the other. Whatever was said next would be crucial,

so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, he

coughed a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly

as even this might well sound different from the way that a

human coughs and he was no longer sure he could judge this

for himself. Meanwhile, it had become very quiet in the

next room. Perhaps his parents were sat at the table

whispering with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all

pressed against the door and listening.

Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the

chair. Once there he let go of it and threw himself onto

the door, holding himself upright against it using the

adhesive on the tips of his legs. He rested there a little

while to recover from the effort involved and then set

himself to the task of turning the key in the lock with his

mouth. He seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth -

how was he, then, to grasp the key? - but the lack of teeth

was, of course, made up for with a very strong jaw; using

the jaw, he really was able to start the key turning,

ignoring the fact that he must have been causing some kind

of damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over

the key and dripped onto the floor.

"Listen", said the chief clerk in the next room, "he's

turning the key." Gregor was greatly encouraged by this;

but they all should have been calling to him, his father and

his mother too: "Well done, Gregor", they should have cried,

"keep at it, keep hold of the lock!" And with the idea that

they were all excitedly following his efforts, he bit on the

key with all his strength, paying no attention to the pain

he was causing himself. As the key turned round he turned

around the lock with it, only holding himself upright with

his mouth, and hung onto the key or pushed it down again

with the whole weight of his body as needed. The clear

sound of the lock as it snapped back was Gregor's sign that

he could break his concentration, and as he regained his

breath he said to himself: "So, I didn't need the locksmith

after all". Then he lay his head on the handle of the door

to open it completely.

Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already

wide open before he could be seen. He had first to slowly

turn himself around one of the double doors, and he had to

do it very carefully if he did not want to fall flat on his

back before entering the room. He was still occupied with

this difficult movement, unable to pay attention to anything

else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim a loud "Oh!",

which sounded like the soughing of the wind. Now he also

saw him - he was the nearest to the door - his hand pressed

against his open mouth and slowly retreating as if driven by

a steady and invisible force. Gregor's mother, her hair

still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk's being

there, looked at his father. Then she unfolded her arms,

took two steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the

floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her

as her head disappeared down onto her breast. His father

looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting to

knock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked uncertainly

round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and

wept so that his powerful chest shook.

So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the

inside of the other door which was still held bolted in

place. In this way only half of his body could be seen,

along with his head above it which he leant over to one side

as he peered out at the others. Meanwhile the day had

become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black

building on the other side of the street - which was a

hospital - could be seen quite clearly with the austere and

regular line of windows piercing its facade; the rain was

still falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets

which hit the ground one at a time. The washing up from

breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because,

for Gregor's father, breakfast was the most important meal

of the day and he would stretch it out for several hours as

he sat reading a number of different newspapers. On the

wall exactly opposite there was photograph of Gregor when he

was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a

carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for

his uniform and bearing. The door to the entrance hall was

open and as the front door of the flat was also open he

could see onto the landing and the stairs where they began

their way down below.

"Now, then", said Gregor, well aware that he was the only

one to have kept calm, "I'll get dressed straight away now,

pack up my samples and set off. Will you please just let me

leave? You can see", he said to the chief clerk, "that I'm

not stubborn and like I like to do my job; being a

commercial traveller is arduous but without travelling I

couldn't earn my living. So where are you going, in to the

office? Yes? Will you report everything accurately, then?

It's quite possible for someone to be temporarily unable to

work, but that's just the right time to remember what's been

achieved in the past and consider that later on, once the

difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all

the more diligence and concentration. You're well aware

that I'm seriously in debt to our employer as well as having

to look after my parents and my sister, so that I'm trapped

in a difficult situation, but I will work my way out of it

again. Please don't make things any harder for me than they

are already, and don't take sides against me at the office.

I know that nobody likes the travellers. They think we earn

an enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it.

That's just prejudice but they have no particular reason to

think better it. But you, sir, you have a better overview

than the rest of the staff, in fact, if I can say this in

confidence, a better overview than the boss himself - it's

very easy for a businessman like him to make mistakes about

his employees and judge them more harshly than he should.

And you're also well aware that we travellers spend almost

the whole year away from the office, so that we can very

easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless

complaints, and it's almost impossible to defend yourself

from that sort of thing, we don't usually even hear about

them, or if at all it's when we arrive back home exhausted

from a trip, and that's when we feel the harmful effects of

what's been going on without even knowing what caused them.

Please, don't go away, at least first say something to show

that you grant that I'm at least partly right!"

But the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor had

started to speak, and, with protruding lips, only stared

back at him over his trembling shoulders as he left. He did

not keep still for a moment while Gregor was speaking, but

moved steadily towards the door without taking his eyes off

him. He moved very gradually, as if there had been some

secret prohibition on leaving the room. It was only when he

had reached the entrance hall that he made a sudden

movement, drew his foot from the living room, and rushed

forward in a panic. In the hall, he stretched his right

hand far out towards the stairway as if out there, there

were some supernatural force waiting to save him.

Gregor realised that it was out of the question to let the

chief clerk go away in this mood if his position in the firm

was not to be put into extreme danger. That was something

his parents did not understand very well; over the years,

they had become convinced that this job would provide for

Gregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to

worry about at present that they had lost sight of any

thought for the future. Gregor, though, did think about the

future. The chief clerk had to be held back, calmed down,

convinced and finally won over; the future of Gregor and his

family depended on it! If only his sister were here! She

was clever; she was already in tears while Gregor was still

lying peacefully on his back. And the chief clerk was a

lover of women, surely she could persuade him; she would

close the front door in the entrance hall and talk him out

of his shocked state. But his sister was not there, Gregor

would have to do the job himself.

And without considering that he still was not familiar with

how well he could move about in his present state, or that

his speech still might not - or probably would not - be

understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through

the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing

who, ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both

hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little

scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his

numerous little legs. Hardly had that happened than, for

the first time that day, he began to feel alright with his

body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to

his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were

even making the effort to carry him where he wanted to go;

and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon be

finally at an end. He held back the urge to move but

swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the floor.

His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at

first, quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly

jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread

shouting: "Help, for pity's sake, Help!" The way she held

her head suggested she wanted to see Gregor better, but the

unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed that she

did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her

with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the

table she sat quickly down on it without knowing what she

was doing; without even seeming to notice that the coffee

pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring

down onto the carpet.

"Mother, mother", said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He

had completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but

could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at

the sight of the flow of coffee. That set his mother

screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of

his father as he rushed towards her. Gregor, though, had no

time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had

already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister,

he looked back for the last time. Gregor made a run for

him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk

must have expected something, as he leapt down several steps

at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all around

the staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed,

unfortunately, to put Gregor's father into a panic as well.

Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now,

instead of running after the chief clerk himself, or at

least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor's

father seized the chief clerk's stick in his right hand (the

chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his

hat and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the

table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into

his room, stamping his foot at him as he went. Gregor's

appeals to his father were of no help, his appeals were

simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his

head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder.

Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor's mother

had pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed

her hands to her face. A strong draught of air flew in from

the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the

newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were

blown onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor's father as

he drove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild

man. Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards

and was only able to go very slowly. If Gregor had only

been allowed to turn round he would have been back in his

room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the

time to do that his father would become impatient, and there

was the threat of a lethal blow to his back or head from the

stick in his father's hand any moment. Eventually, though,

Gregor realised that he had no choice as he saw, to his

disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a

straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with

frequent anxious glances at his father, to turn himself

round. It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able

to see his good intentions as he did nothing to hinder him,

in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give

directions from a distance as to which way to turn.

If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It

was making Gregor quite confused. When he had nearly

finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, he

made a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he

had just come. He was pleased when he finally had his head

in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too

narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without

further difficulty. In his present mood, it obviously did

not occur to his father to open the other of the double

doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get through.

He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got

back into his room as quickly as possible. Nor would he

ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as

preparation for getting through the doorway. What he did,

making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregor forwards

all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it

sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father

behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor

pushed himself into the doorway without regard for what

might happen. One side of his body lifted itself, he lay at

an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door

and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks on it,

soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move

at all by himself, the little legs along one side hung

quivering in the air while those on the other side were

pressed painfully against the ground. Then his father gave

him a hefty shove from behind which released him from where

he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep

into his room. The door was slammed shut with the stick,

then, finally, all was quiet.

II

It was not until it was getting dark that evening that

Gregor awoke from his deep and coma-like sleep. He would

have woken soon afterwards anyway even if he hadn't been

disturbed, as he had had enough sleep and felt fully rested.

But he had the impression that some hurried steps and the

sound of the door leading into the front room being

carefully shut had woken him. The light from the electric

street lamps shone palely here and there onto the ceiling

and tops of the furniture, but down below, where Gregor was,

it was dark. He pushed himself over to the door, feeling

his way clumsily with his antennae - of which he was now

beginning to learn the value - in order to see what had been

happening there. The whole of his left side seemed like

one, painfully stretched scar, and he limped badly on his

two rows of legs. One of the legs had been badly injured in

the events of that morning - it was nearly a miracle that

only one of them had been - and dragged along lifelessly.

It was only when he had reached the door that he realised

what it actually was that had drawn him over to it; it was

the smell of something to eat. By the door there was a dish

filled with sweetened milk with little pieces of white bread

floating in it. He was so pleased he almost laughed, as he

was even hungrier than he had been that morning, and

immediately dipped his head into the milk, nearly covering

his eyes with it. But he soon drew his head back again in

disappointment; not only did the pain in his tender left

side make it difficult to eat the food - he was only able to

eat if his whole body worked together as a snuffling whole -

but the milk did not taste at all nice. Milk like this was

normally his favourite drink, and his sister had certainly

left it there for him because of that, but he turned, almost

against his own will, away from the dish and crawled back

into the centre of the room.

Through the crack in the door, Gregor could see that the gas

had been lit in the living room. His father at this time

would normally be sat with his evening paper, reading it out

in a loud voice to Gregor's mother, and sometimes to his

sister, but there was now not a sound to be heard. Gregor's

sister would often write and tell him about this reading,

but maybe his father had lost the habit in recent times. It

was so quiet all around too, even though there must have

been somebody in the flat. "What a quiet life it is the

family lead", said Gregor to himself, and, gazing into the

darkness, felt a great pride that he was able to provide a

life like that in such a nice home for his sister and

parents. But what now, if all this peace and wealth and

comfort should come to a horrible and frightening end? That

was something that Gregor did not want to think about too

much, so he started to move about, crawling up and down the

room.

Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the

room was opened very slightly and hurriedly closed again;

later on the door on the other side did the same; it seemed

that someone needed to enter the room but thought better of

it. Gregor went and waited immediately by the door,

resolved either to bring the timorous visitor into the room

in some way or at least to find out who it was; but the door

was opened no more that night and Gregor waited in vain.

The previous morning while the doors were locked everyone

had wanted to get in there to him, but now, now that he had

opened up one of the doors and the other had clearly been

unlocked some time during the day, no-one came, and the keys

were in the other sides.

It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the

living room was put out, and now it was easy to see that

parents and sister had stayed awake all that time, as they

all could be distinctly heard as they went away together on

tip-toe. It was clear that no-one would come into Gregor's

room any more until morning; that gave him plenty of time to

think undisturbed about how he would have to re-arrange his

life. For some reason, the tall, empty room where he was

forced to remain made him feel uneasy as he lay there flat

on the floor, even though he had been living in it for five

years. Hardly aware of what he was doing other than a

slight feeling of shame, he hurried under the couch. It

pressed down on his back a little, and he was no longer able

to lift his head, but he nonetheless felt immediately at

ease and his only regret was that his body was too broad to

get it all underneath. He spent the whole night there.

Some of the time he passed in a light sleep, although he

frequently woke from it in alarm because of his hunger, and

some of the time was spent in worries and vague hopes which,

however, always led to the same conclusion: for the time

being he must remain calm, he must show patience and the

greatest consideration so that his family could bear the

unpleasantness that he, in his present condition, was forced

to impose on them.

Gregor soon had the opportunity to test the strength of his

decisions, as early the next morning, almost before the

night had ended, his sister, nearly fully dressed, opened

the door from the front room and looked anxiously in. She

did not see him straight away, but when she did notice him

under the couch - he had to be somewhere, for God's sake, he

couldn't have flown away - she was so shocked that she lost

control of herself and slammed the door shut again from

outside. But she seemed to regret her behaviour, as she

opened the door again straight away and came in on tip-toe

as if entering the room of someone seriously ill or even of

a stranger. Gregor had pushed his head forward, right to

the edge of the couch, and watched her. Would she notice

that he had left the milk as it was, realise that it was not

from any lack of hunger and bring him in some other food

that was more suitable? If she didn't do it herself he

would rather go hungry than draw her attention to it,

although he did feel a terrible urge to rush forward from

under the couch, throw himself at his sister's feet and beg

her for something good to eat. However, his sister noticed

the full dish immediately and looked at it and the few drops

of milk splashed around it with some surprise. She

immediately picked it up - using a rag, not her bare hands -

and carried it out. Gregor was extremely curious as to what

she would bring in its place, imagining the wildest

possibilities, but he never could have guessed what his

sister, in her goodness, actually did bring. In order to

test his taste, she brought him a whole selection of things,

all spread out on an old newspaper. There were old, half-

rotten vegetables; bones from the evening meal, covered in

white sauce that had gone hard; a few raisins and almonds;

some cheese that Gregor had declared inedible two days

before; a dry roll and some bread spread with butter and

salt. As well as all that she had poured some water into

the dish, which had probably been permanently set aside for

Gregor's use, and placed it beside them. Then, out of

consideration for Gregor's feelings, as she knew that he

would not eat in front of her, she hurried out again and

even turned the key in the lock so that Gregor would know he

could make things as comfortable for himself as he liked.

Gregor's little legs whirred, at last he could eat. What's

more, his injuries must already have completely healed as he

found no difficulty in moving. This amazed him, as more

than a month earlier he had cut his finger slightly with a

knife, he thought of how his finger had still hurt the day

before yesterday.

"Am I less sensitive than I used to be, then?", he thought,

and was already sucking greedily at the cheese which had

immediately, almost compellingly, attracted him much more

than the other foods on the newspaper. Quickly one after

another, his eyes watering with pleasure, he consumed the

cheese, the vegetables and the sauce; the fresh foods, on

the other hand, he didn't like at all, and even dragged the

things he did want to eat a little way away from them

because he couldn't stand the smell. Long after he had

finished eating and lay lethargic in the same place, his

sister slowly turned the key in the lock as a sign to him

that he should withdraw. He was immediately startled,

although he had been half asleep, and he hurried back under

the couch. But he needed great self-control to stay there

even for the short time that his sister was in the room, as

eating so much food had rounded out his body a little and he

could hardly breathe in that narrow space. Half

suffocating, he watched with bulging eyes as his sister

unselfconsciously took a broom and swept up the left-overs,

mixing them in with the food he had not even touched at all

as if it could not be used any more. She quickly dropped it

all into a bin, closed it with its wooden lid, and carried

everything out. She had hardly turned her back before

Gregor came out again from under the couch and stretched

himself.

This was how Gregor received his food each day now, once in

the morning while his parents and the maid were still

asleep, and the second time after everyone had eaten their

meal at midday as his parents would sleep for a little while

then as well, and Gregor's sister would send the maid away

on some errand. Gregor's father and mother certainly did

not want him to starve either, but perhaps it would have

been more than they could stand to have any more experience

of his feeding than being told about it, and perhaps his

sister wanted to spare them what distress she could as they

were indeed suffering enough.

It was impossible for Gregor to find out what they had told

the doctor and the locksmith that first morning to get them

out of the flat. As nobody could understand him, nobody,

not even his sister, thought that he could understand them,

so he had to be content to hear his sister's sighs and

appeals to the saints as she moved about his room. It was

only later, when she had become a little more used to

everything - there was, of course, no question of her ever

becoming fully used to the situation - that Gregor would

sometimes catch a friendly comment, or at least a comment

that could be construed as friendly. "He's enjoyed his

dinner today", she might say when he had diligently cleared

away all the food left for him, or if he left most of it,

which slowly became more and more frequent, she would often

say, sadly, "now everything's just been left there again".

Although Gregor wasn't able to hear any news directly he did

listen to much of what was said in the next rooms, and

whenever he heard anyone speaking he would scurry straight

to the appropriate door and press his whole body against it.

There was seldom any conversation, especially at first, that

was not about him in some way, even if only in secret. For

two whole days, all the talk at every mealtime was about

what they should do now; but even between meals they spoke

about the same subject as there were always at least two

members of the family at home - nobody wanted to be at home

by themselves and it was out of the question to leave the

flat entirely empty. And on the very first day the maid had

fallen to her knees and begged Gregor's mother to let her go

without delay. It was not very clear how much she knew of

what had happened but she left within a quarter of an hour,

tearfully thanking Gregor's mother for her dismissal as if

she had done her an enormous service. She even swore

emphatically not to tell anyone the slightest about what had

happened, even though no-one had asked that of her. Now

Gregor's sister also had to help his mother with the

cooking; although that was not so much bother as no-one ate

very much. Gregor often heard how one of them would

unsuccessfully urge another to eat, and receive no more

answer than "no thanks, I've had enough" or something

similar. No-one drank very much either. His sister would

sometimes ask his father whether he would like a beer,

hoping for the chance to go and fetch it herself. When his

father then said nothing she would add, so that he would not

feel selfish, that she could send the housekeeper for it,

but then his father would close the matter with a big, loud

"No", and no more would be said.

Even before the first day had come to an end, his father had

explained to Gregor's mother and sister what their finances

and prospects were. Now and then he stood up from the table

and took some receipt or document from the little cash box

he had saved from his business when it had collapsed five

years earlier. Gregor heard how he opened the complicated

lock and then closed it again after he had taken the item he

wanted. What he heard his father say was some of the first

good news that Gregor heard since he had first been

incarcerated in his room. He had thought that nothing at

all remained from his father's business, at least he had

never told him anything different, and Gregor had never

asked him about it anyway. Their business misfortune had

reduced the family to a state of total despair, and Gregor's

only concern at that time had been to arrange things so that

they could all forget about it as quickly as possible. So

then he started working especially hard, with a fiery vigour

that raised him from a junior salesman to a travelling

representative almost overnight, bringing with it the

chance to earn money in quite different ways. Gregor

converted his success at work straight into cash that he

could lay on the table at home for the benefit of his

astonished and delighted family. They had been good times

and they had never come again, at least not with the same

splendour, even though Gregor had later earned so much that

he was in a position to bear the costs of the whole family,

and did bear them. They had even got used to it, both

Gregor and the family, they took the money with gratitude

and he was glad to provide it, although there was no longer

much warm affection given in return. Gregor only remained

close to his sister now. Unlike him, she was very fond of

music and a gifted and expressive violinist, it was his

secret plan to send her to the conservatory next year even

though it would cause great expense that would have to be

made up for in some other way. During Gregor's short

periods in town, conversation with his sister would often

turn to the conservatory but it was only ever mentioned as a

lovely dream that could never be realised. Their parents

did not like to hear this innocent talk, but Gregor thought

about it quite hard and decided he would let them know what

he planned with a grand announcement of it on Christmas day.

That was the sort of totally pointless thing that went

through his mind in his present state, pressed upright

against the door and listening. There were times when he

simply became too tired to continue listening, when his head

would fall wearily against the door and he would pull it up

again with a start, as even the slightest noise he caused

would be heard next door and they would all go silent.

"What's that he's doing now", his father would say after a

while, clearly having gone over to the door, and only then

would the interrupted conversation slowly be taken up again.

When explaining things, his father repeated himself several

times, partly because it was a long time since he had been

occupied with these matters himself and partly because

Gregor's mother did not understand everything first time.

From these repeated explanations Gregor learned, to his

pleasure, that despite all their misfortunes there was still

some money available from the old days. It was not a lot,

but it had not been touched in the meantime and some

interest had accumulated. Besides that, they had not been

using up all the money that Gregor had been bringing home

every month, keeping only a little for himself, so that

that, too, had been accumulating. Behind the door, Gregor

nodded with enthusiasm in his pleasure at this unexpected

thrift and caution. He could actually have used this

surplus money to reduce his father's debt to his boss, and

the day when he could have freed himself from that job would

have come much closer, but now it was certainly better the

way his father had done things.

This money, however, was certainly not enough to enable the

family to live off the interest; it was enough to maintain

them for, perhaps, one or two years, no more. That's to

say, it was money that should not really be touched but set

aside for emergencies; money to live on had to be earned.

His father was healthy but old, and lacking in self

confidence. During the five years that he had not been

working - the first holiday in a life that had been full of

strain and no success - he had put on a lot of weight and

become very slow and clumsy. Would Gregor's elderly mother

now have to go and earn money? She suffered from asthma and

it was a strain for her just to move about the home, every

other day would be spent struggling for breath on the sofa

by the open window. Would his sister have to go and earn

money? She was still a child of seventeen, her life up till

then had been very enviable, consisting of wearing nice

clothes, sleeping late, helping out in the business, joining

in with a few modest pleasures and most of all playing the

violin. Whenever they began to talk of the need to earn

money, Gregor would always first let go of the door and then

throw himself onto the cool, leather sofa next to it, as he

became quite hot with shame and regret. He would often lie

there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink but

scratching at the leather for hours on end. Or he might go

to all the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing

up onto the sill and, propped up in the chair, leaning on

the window to stare out of it. He had used to feel a great

sense of freedom from doing this, but doing it now was

obviously something more remembered than experienced, as

what he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct

every day, even things that were quite near; he had used to

curse the ever-present view of the hospital across the

street, but now he could not see it at all, and if he had

not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was a

quiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he

could have thought that he was looking out the window at a

barren waste where the grey sky and the grey earth mingled

inseparably. His observant sister only needed to notice the

chair twice before she would always push it back to its

exact position by the window after she had tidied up the

room, and even left the inner pane of the window open from

then on.

If Gregor had only been able to speak to his sister and

thank her for all that she had to do for him it would have

been easier for him to bear it; but as it was it caused him

pain. His sister, naturally, tried as far as possible to

pretend there was nothing burdensome about it, and the

longer it went on, of course, the better she was able to do

so, but as time went by Gregor was also able to see through

it all so much better. It had even become very unpleasant

for him, now, whenever she entered the room. No sooner had

she come in than she would quickly close the door as a

precaution so that no-one would have to suffer the view into

Gregor's room, then she would go straight to the window and

pull it hurriedly open almost as if she were suffocating.

Even if it was cold, she would stay at the window breathing

deeply for a little while. She would alarm Gregor twice a

day with this running about and noise making; he would stay

under the couch shivering the whole while, knowing full well

that she would certainly have liked to spare him this

ordeal, but it was impossible for her to be in the same room

with him with the windows closed.

One day, about a month after Gregor's transformation when

his sister no longer had any particular reason to be shocked

at his appearance, she came into the room a little earlier

than usual and found him still staring out the window,

motionless, and just where he would be most horrible. In

itself, his sister's not coming into the room would have

been no surprise for Gregor as it would have been difficult

for her to immediately open the window while he was still

there, but not only did she not come in, she went straight

back and closed the door behind her, a stranger would have

thought he had threatened her and tried to bite her. Gregor

went straight to hide himself under the couch, of course,

but he had to wait until midday before his sister came back

and she seemed much more uneasy than usual. It made him

realise that she still found his appearance unbearable and

would continue to do so, she probably even had to overcome

the urge to flee when she saw the little bit of him that

protruded from under the couch. One day, in order to spare

her even this sight, he spent four hours carrying the

bedsheet over to the couch on his back and arranged it so

that he was completely covered and his sister would not be

able to see him even if she bent down. If she did not think

this sheet was necessary then all she had to do was take it

off again, as it was clear enough that it was no pleasure

for Gregor to cut himself off so completely. She left the

sheet where it was. Gregor even thought he glimpsed a look

of gratitude one time when he carefully looked out from

under the sheet to see how his sister liked the new

arrangement.

For the first fourteen days, Gregor's parents could not

bring themselves to come into the room to see him. He would

often hear them say how they appreciated all the new work

his sister was doing even though, before, they had seen her

as a girl who was somewhat useless and frequently been

annoyed with her. But now the two of them, father and

mother, would often both wait outside the door of Gregor's

room while his sister tidied up in there, and as soon as she

went out again she would have to tell them exactly how

everything looked, what Gregor had eaten, how he had behaved

this time and whether, perhaps, any slight improvement could

be seen. His mother also wanted to go in and visit Gregor

relatively soon but his father and sister at first persuaded

her against it. Gregor listened very closely to all this,

and approved fully. Later, though, she had to be held back

by force, which made her call out: "Let me go and see

Gregor, he is my unfortunate son! Can't you understand I

have to see him?", and Gregor would think to himself that

maybe it would be better if his mother came in, not every

day of course, but one day a week, perhaps; she could

understand everything much better than his sister who, for

all her courage, was still just a child after all, and

really might not have had an adult's appreciation of the

burdensome job she had taken on.

Gregor's wish to see his mother was soon realised. Out of

consideration for his parents, Gregor wanted to avoid being

seen at the window during the day, the few square meters of

the floor did not give him much room to crawl about, it was

hard to just lie quietly through the night, his food soon

stopped giving him any pleasure at all, and so, to entertain

himself, he got into the habit of crawling up and down the

walls and ceiling. He was especially fond of hanging from

the ceiling; it was quite different from lying on the floor;

he could breathe more freely; his body had a light swing to

it; and up there, relaxed and almost happy, it might happen

that he would surprise even himself by letting go of the

ceiling and landing on the floor with a crash. But now, of

course, he had far better control of his body than before

and, even with a fall as great as that, caused himself no

damage. Very soon his sister noticed Gregor's new way of

entertaining himself - he had, after all, left traces of the

adhesive from his feet as he crawled about - and got it into

her head to make it as easy as possible for him by removing

the furniture that got in his way, especially the chest of

drawers and the desk.

Now, this was not something that she would be able to do by

herself; she did not dare to ask for help from her father;

the sixteen year old maid had carried on bravely since the

cook had left but she certainly would not have helped in

this, she had even asked to be allowed to keep the kitchen

locked at all times and never to have to open the door

unless it was especially important; so his sister had no

choice but to choose some time when Gregor's father was not

there and fetch his mother to help her. As she approached

the room, Gregor could hear his mother express her joy, but

once at the door she went silent. First, of course, his

sister came in and looked round to see that everything in

the room was alright; and only then did she let her mother

enter. Gregor had hurriedly pulled the sheet down lower

over the couch and put more folds into it so that everything

really looked as if it had just been thrown down by chance.

Gregor also refrained, this time, from spying out from under

the sheet; he gave up the chance to see his mother until

later and was simply glad that she had come. "You can come

in, he can't be seen", said his sister, obviously leading

her in by the hand. The old chest of drawers was too heavy

for a pair of feeble women to be heaving about, but Gregor

listened as they pushed it from its place, his sister always

taking on the heaviest part of the work for herself and

ignoring her mother's warnings that she would strain

herself. This lasted a very long time. After labouring at

it for fifteen minutes or more his mother said it would be

better to leave the chest where it was, for one thing it was

too heavy for them to get the job finished before Gregor's

father got home and leaving it in the middle of the room it

would be in his way even more, and for another thing it

wasn't even sure that taking the furniture away would really

be any help to him. She thought just the opposite; the

sight of the bare walls saddened her right to her heart; and

why wouldn't Gregor feel the same way about it, he'd been

used to this furniture in his room for a long time and it

would make him feel abandoned to be in an empty room like

that.

Then, quietly, almost whispering as if wanting Gregor (whose

whereabouts she did not know) to hear not even the tone of

her voice, as she was convinced that he did not understand

her words, she added "and by taking the furniture away,

won't it seem like we're showing that we've given up all

hope of improvement and we're abandoning him to cope for

himself? I think it'd be best to leave the room exactly the

way it was before so that when Gregor comes back to us again

he'll find everything unchanged and he'll be able to forget

the time in between all the easier".

Hearing these words from his mother made Gregor realise that

the lack of any direct human communication, along with the

monotonous life led by the family during these two months,

must have made him confused - he could think of no other way

of explaining to himself why he had seriously wanted his

room emptied out. Had he really wanted to transform his

room into a cave, a warm room fitted out with the nice

furniture he had inherited? That would have let him crawl

around unimpeded in any direction, but it would also have

let him quickly forget his past when he had still been

human. He had come very close to forgetting, and it had

only been the voice of his mother, unheard for so long, that

had shaken him out of it. Nothing should be removed;

everything had to stay; he could not do without the good

influence the furniture had on his condition; and if the

furniture made it difficult for him to crawl about

mindlessly that was not a loss but a great advantage.

His sister, unfortunately, did not agree; she had become

used to the idea, not without reason, that she was Gregor's

spokesman to his parents about the things that concerned

him. This meant that his mother's advice now was sufficient

reason for her to insist on removing not only the chest of

drawers and the desk, as she had thought at first, but all

the furniture apart from the all-important couch. It was

more than childish perversity, of course, or the unexpected

confidence she had recently acquired, that made her insist;

she had indeed noticed that Gregor needed a lot of room to

crawl about in, whereas the furniture, as far as anyone

could see, was of no use to him at all.

Girls of that age, though, do become enthusiastic about

things and feel they must get their way whenever they can.

Perhaps this was what tempted Grete to make Gregor's

situation seem even more shocking than it was so that she

could do even more for him. Grete would probably be the

only one who would dare enter a room dominated by Gregor

crawling about the bare walls by himself. So she refused to

let her mother dissuade her. Gregor's mother already looked

uneasy in his room, she soon stopped speaking and helped

Gregor's sister to get the chest of drawers out with what

strength she had. The chest of drawers was something that

Gregor could do without if he had to, but the writing desk

had to stay. Hardly had the two women pushed the chest of

drawers, groaning, out of the room than Gregor poked his

head out from under the couch to see what he could do about

it. He meant to be as careful and considerate as he could,

but, unfortunately, it was his mother who came back first

while Grete in the next room had her arms round the chest,

pushing and pulling at it from side to side by herself

without, of course, moving it an inch. His mother was not

used to the sight of Gregor, he might have made her ill, so

Gregor hurried backwards to the far end of the couch. In

his startlement, though, he was not able to prevent the

sheet at its front from moving a little. It was enough to

attract his mother's attention. She stood very still,

remained there a moment, and then went back out to Grete.

Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual

was happening, it was just a few pieces of furniture being

moved after all, but he soon had to admit that the women

going to and fro, their little calls to each other, the

scraping of the furniture on the floor, all these things

made him feel as if he were being assailed from all sides.

With his head and legs pulled in against him and his body

pressed to the floor, he was forced to admit to himself that

he could not stand all of this much longer. They were

emptying his room out; taking away everything that was dear

to him; they had already taken out the chest containing his

fretsaw and other tools; now they threatened to remove the

writing desk with its place clearly worn into the floor, the

desk where he had done his homework as a business trainee,

at high school, even while he had been at infant school - he

really could not wait any longer to see whether the two

women's intentions were good. He had nearly forgotten they

were there anyway, as they were now too tired to say

anything while they worked and he could only hear their feet

as they stepped heavily on the floor.

So, while the women were leant against the desk in the other

room catching their breath, he sallied out, changed

direction four times not knowing what he should save first

before his attention was suddenly caught by the picture on

the wall - which was already denuded of everything else that

had been on it - of the lady dressed in copious fur. He

hurried up onto the picture and pressed himself against its

glass, it held him firmly and felt good on his hot belly.

This picture at least, now totally covered by Gregor, would

certainly be taken away by no-one. He turned his head to

face the door into the living room so that he could watch

the women when they came back.

They had not allowed themselves a long rest and came back

quite soon; Grete had put her arm around her mother and was

nearly carrying her. "What shall we take now, then?", said

Grete and looked around. Her eyes met those of Gregor on

the wall. Perhaps only because her mother was there, she

remained calm, bent her face to her so that she would not

look round and said, albeit hurriedly and with a tremor in

her voice: "Come on, let's go back in the living room for a

while?" Gregor could see what Grete had in mind, she wanted

to take her mother somewhere safe and then chase him down

from the wall. Well, she could certainly try it! He sat

unyielding on his picture. He would rather jump at Grete's

face.

But Grete's words had made her mother quite worried, she

stepped to one side, saw the enormous brown patch against

the flowers of the wallpaper, and before she even realised

it was Gregor that she saw screamed: "Oh God, oh God!" Arms

outstretched, she fell onto the couch as if she had given up

everything and stayed there immobile. "Gregor!" shouted his

sister, glowering at him and shaking her fist. That was the

first word she had spoken to him directly since his

transformation. She ran into the other room to fetch some

kind of smelling salts to bring her mother out of her faint;

Gregor wanted to help too - he could save his picture later,

although he stuck fast to the glass and had to pull himself

off by force; then he, too, ran into the next room as if he

could advise his sister like in the old days; but he had to

just stand behind her doing nothing; she was looking into

various bottles, he startled her when she turned round; a

bottle fell to the ground and broke; a splinter cut Gregor's

face, some kind of caustic medicine splashed all over him;

now, without delaying any longer, Grete took hold of all the

bottles she could and ran with them in to her mother; she

slammed the door shut with her foot. So now Gregor was shut

out from his mother, who, because of him, might be near to

death; he could not open the door if he did not want to

chase his sister away, and she had to stay with his mother;

there was nothing for him to do but wait; and, oppressed

with anxiety and self-reproach, he began to crawl about, he

crawled over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and

finally in his confusion as the whole room began to spin

around him he fell down into the middle of the dinner table.

He lay there for a while, numb and immobile, all around him

it was quiet, maybe that was a good sign. Then there was

someone at the door. The maid, of course, had locked

herself in her kitchen so that Grete would have to go and

answer it. His father had arrived home. "What's happened?"

were his first words; Grete's appearance must have made

everything clear to him. She answered him with subdued

voice, and openly pressed her face into his chest: "Mother's

fainted, but she's better now. Gregor got out." "Just as I

expected", said his father, "just as I always said, but you

women wouldn't listen, would you."

It was clear to Gregor that Grete had not said enough and

that his father took it to mean that something bad had

happened, that he was responsible for some act of violence.

That meant Gregor would now have to try to calm his father,

as he did not have the time to explain things to him even if

that had been possible. So he fled to the door of his room

and pressed himself against it so that his father, when he

came in from the hall, could see straight away that Gregor

had the best intentions and would go back into his room

without delay, that it would not be necessary to drive him

back but that they had only to open the door and he would

disappear.

His father, though, was not in the mood to notice subtleties

like that; "Ah!", he shouted as he came in, sounding as if

he were both angry and glad at the same time. Gregor drew

his head back from the door and lifted it towards his

father. He really had not imagined his father the way he

stood there now; of late, with his new habit of crawling

about, he had neglected to pay attention to what was going

on the rest of the flat the way he had done before. He

really ought to have expected things to have changed, but

still, still, was that really his father? The same tired

man as used to be laying there entombed in his bed when

Gregor came back from his business trips, who would receive

him sitting in the armchair in his nightgown when he came

back in the evenings; who was hardly even able to stand up

but, as a sign of his pleasure, would just raise his arms

and who, on the couple of times a year when they went for a

walk together on a Sunday or public holiday wrapped up

tightly in his overcoat between Gregor and his mother, would

always labour his way forward a little more slowly than

them, who were already walking slowly for his sake; who

would place his stick down carefully and, if he wanted to

say something would invariably stop and gather his

companions around him.

He was standing up straight enough now; dressed in a smart

blue uniform with gold buttons, the sort worn by the

employees at the banking institute; above the high, stiff

collar of the coat his strong double-chin emerged; under the

bushy eyebrows, his piercing, dark eyes looked out fresh and

alert; his normally unkempt white hair was combed down

painfully close to his scalp. He took his cap, with its

gold monogram from, probably, some bank, and threw it in an

arc right across the room onto the sofa, put his hands in

his trouser pockets, pushing back the bottom of his long

uniform coat, and, with look of determination, walked

towards Gregor.

He probably did not even know himself what he had in mind,

but nonetheless lifted his feet unusually high. Gregor was

amazed at the enormous size of the soles of his boots, but

wasted no time with that - he knew full well, right from the

first day of his new life, that his father thought it

necessary to always be extremely strict with him. And so he

ran up to his father, stopped when his father stopped,

scurried forwards again when he moved, even slightly. In

this way they went round the room several times without

anything decisive happening, without even giving the

impression of a chase as everything went so slowly. Gregor

remained all this time on the floor, largely because he

feared his father might see it as especially provoking if he

fled onto the wall or ceiling. Whatever he did, Gregor had

to admit that he certainly would not be able to keep up this

running about for long, as for each step his father took he

had to carry out countless movements. He became noticeably

short of breath, even in his earlier life his lungs had not

been very reliable. Now, as he lurched about in his efforts

to muster all the strength he could for running he could

hardly keep his eyes open; his thoughts became too slow for

him to think of any other way of saving himself than

running; he almost forgot that the walls were there for him

to use although, here, they were concealed behind carefully

carved furniture full of notches and protrusions - then,

right beside him, lightly tossed, something flew down and

rolled in front of him. It was an apple; then another one

immediately flew at him; Gregor froze in shock; there was no

longer any point in running as his father had decided to

bombard him. He had filled his pockets with fruit from the

bowl on the sideboard and now, without even taking the time

for careful aim, threw one apple after another. These

little, red apples rolled about on the floor, knocking into

each other as if they had electric motors. An apple thrown

without much force glanced against Gregor's back and slid

off without doing any harm. Another one however,

immediately following it, hit squarely and lodged in his

back; Gregor wanted to drag himself away, as if he could

remove the surprising, the incredible pain by changing his

position; but he felt as if nailed to the spot and spread

himself out, all his senses in confusion. The last thing he

saw was the door of his room being pulled open, his sister

was screaming, his mother ran out in front of her in her

blouse (as his sister had taken off some of her clothes

after she had fainted to make it easier for her to breathe),

she ran to his father, her skirts unfastened and sliding one

after another to the ground, stumbling over the skirts she

pushed herself to his father, her arms around him, uniting

herself with him totally - now Gregor lost his ability to

see anything - her hands behind his father's head begging

him to spare Gregor's life.

III

No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor's flesh,

so it remained there as a visible reminder of his injury.

He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his

condition seemed serious enough to remind even his father

that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was

a family member who could not be treated as an enemy. On

the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any

revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.

Because of his injuries, Gregor had lost much of his

mobility - probably permanently. He had been reduced to the

condition of an ancient invalid and it took him long, long

minutes to crawl across his room - crawling over the ceiling

was out of the question - but this deterioration in his

condition was fully (in his opinion) made up for by the door

to the living room being left open every evening. He got

into the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours

before it was opened and then, lying in the darkness of his

room where he could not be seen from the living room, he

could watch the family in the light of the dinner table and

listen to their conversation - with everyone's permission,

in a way, and thus quite differently from before.

They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier

times, of course, the ones that Gregor always thought about

with longing when he was tired and getting into the damp bed

in some small hotel room. All of them were usually very

quiet nowadays. Soon after dinner, his father would go to

sleep in his chair; his mother and sister would urge each

other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply under the lamp,

would sew fancy underwear for a fashion shop; his sister,

who had taken a sales job, learned shorthand and French in

the evenings so that she might be able to get a better

position later on. Sometimes his father would wake up and

say to Gregor's mother "you're doing so much sewing again

today!", as if he did not know that he had been dozing - and

then he would go back to sleep again while mother and sister

would exchange a tired grin. With a kind of stubbornness,

Gregor's father refused to take his uniform off even at

home; while his nightgown hung unused on its peg Gregor's

father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as if

always ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his

superior even here. The uniform had not been new to start

with, but as a result of this it slowly became even shabbier

despite the efforts of Gregor's mother and sister to look

after it. Gregor would often spend the whole evening

looking at all the stains on this coat, with its gold

buttons always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in

it would sleep, highly uncomfortable but peaceful.

As soon as it struck ten, Gregor's mother would speak gently

to his father to wake him and try to persuade him to go to

bed, as he couldn't sleep properly where he was and he

really had to get his sleep if he was to be up at six to get

to work. But since he had been in work he had become more

obstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the

table, even though he regularly fell asleep and it was then

harder than ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for

his bed. Then, however much mother and sister would

importune him with little reproaches and warnings he would

keep slowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour with

his eyes closed and refusing to get up. Gregor's mother

would tug at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear,

Gregor's sister would leave her work to help her mother, but

nothing would have any effect on him. He would just sink

deeper into his chair. Only when the two women took him

under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, look at them

one after the other and say: "What a life! This is what

peace I get in my old age!" And supported by the two women

he would lift himself up carefully as if he were carrying

the greatest load himself, let the women take him to the

door, send them off and carry on by himself while Gregor's

mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so

that they could run after his father and continue being of

help to him.

Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had

time to give more attention to Gregor than was absolutely

necessary? The household budget became even smaller; so now

the maid was dismissed; an enormous, thick-boned charwoman

with white hair that flapped around her head came every

morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else

was looked after by Gregor's mother on top of the large

amount of sewing work she did. Gregor even learned,

listening to the evening conversation about what price they

had hoped for, that several items of jewellery belonging to

the family had been sold, even though both mother and

sister had been very fond of wearing them at functions and

celebrations. But the loudest complaint was that although

the flat was much too big for their present circumstances,

they could not move out of it, there was no imaginable way

of transferring Gregor to the new address. He could see

quite well, though, that there were more reasons than

consideration for him that made it difficult for them to

move, it would have been quite easy to transport him in any

suitable crate with a few air holes in it; the main thing

holding the family back from their decision to move was much

more to do with their total despair, and the thought that

they had been struck with a misfortune unlike anything

experienced by anyone else they knew or were related to.

They carried out absolutely everything that the world

expects from poor people, Gregor's father brought bank

employees their breakfast, his mother sacrificed herself by

washing clothes for strangers, his sister ran back and forth

behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they

just did not have the strength to do any more. And the

injury in Gregor's back began to hurt as much as when it was

new. After they had come back from taking his father to bed

Gregor's mother and sister would now leave their work where

it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his mother

would point to Gregor's room and say "Close that door,

Grete", and then, when he was in the dark again, they would

sit in the next room and their tears would mingle, or they

would simply sit there staring dry-eyed at the table.

Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day. Sometimes

he would think of taking over the family's affairs, just

like before, the next time the door was opened; he had long

forgotten about his boss and the chief clerk, but they would

appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen and the

apprentices, that stupid teaboy, two or three friends from

other businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial

hotel, a tender memory that appeared and disappeared again,

a cashier from a hat shop for whom his attention had been

serious but too slow, - all of them appeared to him, mixed

together with strangers and others he had forgotten, but

instead of helping him and his family they were all of them

inaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared.

Other times he was not at all in the mood to look after his

family, he was filled with simple rage about the lack of

attention he was shown, and although he could think of

nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he could

get into the pantry where he could take all the things he

was entitled to, even if he was not hungry. Gregor's sister

no longer thought about how she could please him but would

hurriedly push some food or other into his room with her

foot before she rushed out to work in the morning and at

midday, and in the evening she would sweep it away again

with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had been eaten

or - more often than not - had been left totally untouched.

She still cleared up the room in the evening, but now she

could not have been any quicker about it. Smears of dirt

were left on the walls, here and there were little balls of

dust and filth. At first, Gregor went into one of the worst

of these places when his sister arrived as a reproach to

her, but he could have stayed there for weeks without his

sister doing anything about it; she could see the dirt as

well as he could but she had simply decided to leave him to

it.

At the same time she became touchy in a way that was quite

new for her and which everyone in the family understood -

cleaning up Gregor's room was for her and her alone.

Gregor's mother did once thoroughly clean his room, and

needed to use several bucketfuls of water to do it -

although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he lay

flat on the couch, bitter and immobile. But his mother was

to be punished still more for what she had done, as hardly

had his sister arrived home in the evening than she noticed

the change in Gregor's room and, highly aggrieved, ran back

into the living room where, despite her mothers raised and

imploring hands, she broke into convulsive tears. Her

father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two

parents looked on astonished and helpless; then they, too,

became agitated; Gregor's father, standing to the right of

his mother, accused her of not leaving the cleaning of

Gregor's room to his sister; from her left, Gregor's sister

screamed at her that she was never to clean Gregor's room

again; while his mother tried to draw his father, who was

beside himself with anger, into the bedroom; his sister,

quaking with tears, thumped on the table with her small

fists; and Gregor hissed in anger that no-one had even

thought of closing the door to save him the sight of this

and all its noise.

Gregor's sister was exhausted from going out to work, and

looking after Gregor as she had done before was even more

work for her, but even so his mother ought certainly not to

have taken her place. Gregor, on the other hand, ought not

to be neglected. Now, though, the charwoman was here. This

elderly widow, with a robust bone structure that made her

able to withstand the hardest of things in her long life,

wasn't really repelled by Gregor. Just by chance one day,

rather than any real curiosity, she opened the door to

Gregor's room and found herself face to face with him. He

was taken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing him but he

began to rush to and fro while she just stood there in

amazement with her hands crossed in front of her. From then

on she never failed to open the door slightly every evening

and morning and look briefly in on him. At first she would

call to him as she did so with words that she probably

considered friendly, such as "come on then, you old dung-

beetle!", or "look at the old dung-beetle there!" Gregor

never responded to being spoken to in that way, but just

remained where he was without moving as if the door had

never even been opened. If only they had told this

charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of letting

her disturb him for no reason whenever she felt like it!

One day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck the

windowpanes, perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she

began to speak to him in that way once again. Gregor was so

resentful of it that he started to move toward her, he was

slow and infirm, but it was like a kind of attack. Instead

of being afraid, the charwoman just lifted up one of the

chairs from near the door and stood there with her mouth

open, clearly intending not to close her mouth until the

chair in her hand had been slammed down into Gregor's back.

"Aren't you coming any closer, then?", she asked when Gregor

turned round again, and she calmly put the chair back in the

corner.

Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating. Only if he

happened to find himself next to the food that had been

prepared for him he might take some of it into his mouth to

play with it, leave it there a few hours and then, more

often than not, spit it out again. At first he thought it

was distress at the state of his room that stopped him

eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there.

They had got into the habit of putting things into this room

that they had room for anywhere else, and there were now

many such things as one of the rooms in the flat had been

rented out to three gentlemen. These earnest gentlemen -

all three of them had full beards, as Gregor learned peering

through the crack in the door one day - were painfully

insistent on things' being tidy. This meant not only in

their own room but, since they had taken a room in this

establishment, in the entire flat and especially in the

kitchen. Unnecessary clutter was something they could not

tolerate, especially if it was dirty. They had moreover

brought most of their own furnishings and equipment with

them. For this reason, many things had become superfluous

which, although they could not be sold, the family did not

wish to discard. All these things found their way into

Gregor's room. The dustbins from the kitchen found their

way in there too. The charwoman was always in a hurry, and

anything she couldn't use for the time being she would just

chuck in there. He, fortunately, would usually see no more

than the object and the hand that held it. The woman most

likely meant to fetch the things back out again when she had

time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one

go, but what actually happened was that they were left where

they landed when they had first been thrown unless Gregor

made his way through the junk and moved it somewhere else.

At first he moved it because, with no other room free where

he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later on he came

to enjoy it although moving about in the way left him sad

and tired to death and he would remain immobile for hours

afterwards.

The gentlemen who rented the room would sometimes take their

evening meal at home in the living room that was used by

everyone, and so the door to this room was often kept closed

in the evening. But Gregor found it easy to give up having

the door open, he had, after all, often failed to make use

of it when it was open and, without the family having

noticed it, lain in his room in its darkest corner. One

time, though, the charwoman left the door to the living room

slightly open, and it remained open when the gentlemen who

rented the room came in in the evening and the light was put

on. They sat up at the table where, formerly, Gregor had

taken his meals with his father and mother, they unfolded

the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks.

Gregor's mother immediately appeared in the doorway with a

dish of meat and soon behind her came his sister with a dish

piled high with potatoes. The food was steaming, and filled

the room with its smell. The gentlemen bent over the dishes

set in front of them as if they wanted to test the food

before eating it, and the gentleman in the middle, who

seemed to count as an authority for the other two, did

indeed cut off a piece of meat while it was still in its

dish, clearly wishing to establish whether it was

sufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to the

kitchen. It was to his satisfaction, and Gregor's mother

and sister, who had been looking on anxiously, began to

breathe again and smiled.

The family themselves ate in the kitchen. Nonetheless,

Gregor's father came into the living room before he went

into the kitchen, bowed once with his cap in his hand and

did his round of the table. The gentlemen stood as one, and

mumbled something into their beards. Then, once they were

alone, they ate in near perfect silence. It seemed

remarkable to Gregor that above all the various noises of

eating their chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they

had wanted to Show Gregor that you need teeth in order to

eat and it was not possible to perform anything with jaws

that are toothless however nice they might be. "I'd like to

eat something", said Gregor anxiously, "but not anything

like they're eating. They do feed themselves. And here I

am, dying!"

Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having

heard the violin being played, but this evening it began to

be heard from the kitchen. The three gentlemen had already

finished their meal, the one in the middle had produced a

newspaper, given a page to each of the others, and now they

leant back in their chairs reading them and smoking. When

the violin began playing they became attentive, stood up and

went on tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they

stood pressed against each other. Someone must have heard

them in the kitchen, as Gregor's father called out: "Is the

playing perhaps unpleasant for the gentlemen? We can stop

it straight away."

"On the contrary", said the middle gentleman, "would the young lady

not like to come in and play for us here in the room, where it is,

after all, much more cosy and comfortable?" "Oh yes, we'd love to",

called back Gregor's father as if he had been the violin player

himself. The gentlemen stepped back into the room and waited.

Gregor's father soon appeared with the music stand, his mother with

the music and his sister with the violin. She calmly prepared

everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who had never rented

a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy towards

the three gentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own chairs; his

father leant against the door with his right hand pushed in between

two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered a

seat by one of the gentlemen and sat - leaving the chair where the

gentleman happened to have placed it - out of the way in a corner.

His sister began to play; father and mother paid close

attention, one on each side, to the movements of her hands.

Drawn in by the playing, Gregor had dared to come forward a

little and already had his head in the living room. Before,

he had taken great pride in how considerate he was but now

it hardly occurred to him that he had become so thoughtless

about the others. What's more, there was now all the more

reason to keep himself hidden as he was covered in the dust

that lay everywhere in his room and flew up at the slightest

movement; he carried threads, hairs, and remains of food

about on his back and sides; he was much too indifferent to

everything now to lay on his back and wipe himself on the

carpet like he had used to do several times a day. And

despite this condition, he was not too shy to move forward a

little onto the immaculate floor of the living room.

No-one noticed him, though. The family was totally

preoccupied with the violin playing; at first, the three

gentlemen had put their hands in their pockets and come up

far too close behind the music stand to look at all the

notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor's

sister, but soon, in contrast with the family, they

withdrew back to the window with their heads sunk and

talking to each other at half volume, and they stayed by the

window while Gregor's father observed them anxiously. It

really now seemed very obvious that they had expected to

hear some beautiful or entertaining violin playing but had

been disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole

performance and it was only now out of politeness that they

allowed their peace to be disturbed. It was especially

unnerving, the way they all blew the smoke from their

cigarettes upwards from their mouth and noses. Yet Gregor's

sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was leant to

one side, following the lines of music with a careful and

melancholy expression. Gregor crawled a little further

forward, keeping his head close to the ground so that he

could meet her eyes if the chance came. Was he an animal if

music could captivate him so? It seemed to him that he was

being shown the way to the unknown nourishment he had been

yearning for. He was determined to make his way forward to

his sister and tug at her skirt to show her she might come

into his room with her violin, as no-one appreciated her

playing here as much as he would. He never wanted to let

her out of his room, not while he lived, anyway; his

shocking appearance should, for once, be of some use to him;

he wanted to be at every door of his room at once to hiss

and spit at the attackers; his sister should not be forced

to stay with him, though, but stay of her own free will; she

would sit beside him on the couch with her ear bent down to

him while he told her how he had always intended to send her

to the conservatory, how he would have told everyone about

it last Christmas - had Christmas really come and gone

already? - if this misfortune hadn't got in the way, and

refuse to let anyone dissuade him from it. On hearing all

this, his sister would break out in tears of emotion, and

Gregor would climb up to her shoulder and kiss her neck,

which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept

free without any necklace or collar.

"Mr. Samsa!", shouted the middle gentleman to Gregor's

father, pointing, without wasting any more words, with his

forefinger at Gregor as he slowly moved forward. The violin

went silent, the middle of the three gentlemen first smiled

at his two friends, shaking his head, and then looked back

at Gregor. His father seemed to think it more important to

calm the three gentlemen before driving Gregor out, even

though they were not at all upset and seemed to think Gregor

was more entertaining that the violin playing had been. He

rushed up to them with his arms spread out and attempted to

drive them back into their room at the same time as trying

to block their view of Gregor with his body. Now they did

become a little annoyed, and it was not clear whether it was

his father's behaviour that annoyed them or the dawning

realisation that they had had a neighbour like Gregor in the

next room without knowing it. They asked Gregor's father

for explanations, raised their arms like he had, tugged

excitedly at heir beards and moved back towards their room

only very slowly. Meanwhile Gregor's sister had overcome

the despair she had fallen into when her playing was

suddenly interrupted. She had let her hands drop and let

violin and bow hang limply for a while but continued to look

at the music as if still playing, but then she suddenly

pulled herself together, lay the instrument on her mother's

lap who still sat laboriously struggling for breath where

she was, and ran into the next room which, under pressure

from her father, the three gentlemen were more quickly

moving toward. Under his sister's experienced hand, the

pillows and covers on the beds flew up and were put into

order and she had already finished making the beds and

slipped out again before the three gentlemen had reached the

room. Gregor's father seemed so obsessed with what he was

doing that he forgot all the respect he owed to his tenants.

He urged them and pressed them until, when he was already at

the door of the room, the middle of the three gentlemen

shouted like thunder and stamped his foot and thereby

brought Gregor's father to a halt. "I declare here and

now", he said, raising his hand and glancing at Gregor's

mother and sister to gain their attention too, "that with

regard to the repugnant conditions that prevail in this flat

and with this family" - here he looked briefly but

decisively at the floor - "I give immediate notice on my

room. For the days that I have been living here I will, of

course, pay nothing at all, on the contrary I will consider

whether to proceed with some kind of action for damages from

you, and believe me it would be very easy to set out the

grounds for such an action." He was silent and looked

straight ahead as if waiting for something. And indeed, his

two friends joined in with the words: "And we also give

immediate notice." With that, he took hold of the door

handle and slammed the door.

Gregor's father staggered back to his seat, feeling his way

with his hands, and fell into it; it looked as if he was

stretching himself out for his usual evening nap but from

the uncontrolled way his head kept nodding it could be seen

that he was not sleeping at all. Throughout all this,

Gregor had lain still where the three gentlemen had first

seen him. His disappointment at the failure of his plan,

and perhaps also because he was weak from hunger, made it

impossible for him to move. He was sure that everyone would

turn on him any moment, and he waited. He was not even

startled out of this state when the violin on his mother's

lap fell from her trembling fingers and landed loudly on the

floor.

"Father, Mother", said his sister, hitting the table with

her hand as introduction, "we can't carry on like this.

Maybe you can't see it, but I can. I don't want to call

this monster my brother, all I can say is: we have to try

and get rid of it. We've done all that's humanly possible

to look after it and be patient, I don't think anyone could

accuse us of doing anything wrong." "She's absolutely

right", said Gregor's father to himself. His mother, who

still had not had time to catch her breath, began to cough

dully, her hand held out in front of her and a deranged

expression in her eyes.

Gregor's sister rushed to his mother and put her hand on her

forehead. Her words seemed to give Gregor's father some

more definite ideas. He sat upright, played with his

uniform cap between the plates left by the three gentlemen

after their meal, and occasionally looked down at Gregor as

he lay there immobile.

"We have to try and get rid of it", said Gregor's sister,

now speaking only to her father, as her mother was too

occupied with coughing to listen, "it'll be the death of

both of you, I can see it coming. We can't all work as hard

as we have to and then come home to be tortured like this,

we can't endure it. I can't endure it any more." And she

broke out so heavily in tears that they flowed down the face

of her mother, and she wiped them away with mechanical hand

movements. "My child", said her father with sympathy and

obvious understanding, "what are we to do?" His sister just

shrugged her shoulders as a sign of the helplessness that

had taken hold of her, displacing her earlier certainly when

she had broken into tears.

"If he could just understand us", said his father almost as

a question; his sister shook her hand vigorously through her

tears as a sign that of that there was no question.

"If he could just understand us", repeated Gregor's father,

closing his eyes in acceptance of his sister's certainty

that that was quite impossible, "then perhaps we could come

to some kind of arrangement with him. But as it is ..."

"It's got to go", shouted his sister, "that's the only way,

Father. You've got to get rid of the idea that that's

Gregor. We've only harmed ourselves by believing it for so

long. How can that be Gregor? If it were Gregor he would

have seen long ago that it's not possible for human beings

to live with an animal like that and he would have gone of

his own free will. We wouldn't have a brother any more,

then, but we could carry on with our lives and remember him

with respect. As it is this animal is persecuting us, it's

driven out our tenants, it obviously wants to take over the

whole flat and force us to sleep on the streets. Father,

look, just look", she suddenly screamed, "he's starting

again!" In her alarm, which was totally beyond Gregor's

comprehension, his sister even abandoned his mother as she

pushed herself vigorously out of her chair as if more

willing to sacrifice her own mother than stay anywhere near

Gregor. She rushed over to behind her father, who had

become excited merely because she was and stood up half

raising his hands in front of Gregor's sister as if to

protect her.

But Gregor had had no intention of frightening anyone, least

of all his sister. All he had done was begin to turn round

so that he could go back into his room, although that was in

itself quite startling as his pain-wracked condition meant

that turning round required a great deal of effort and he

was using his head to help himself do it, repeatedly raising

it and striking it against the floor. He stopped and looked

round. They seemed to have realised his good intention and

had only been alarmed briefly. Now they all looked at him

in unhappy silence. His mother lay in her chair with her

legs stretched out and pressed against each other, her eyes

nearly closed with exhaustion; his sister sat next to his

father with her arms around his neck.

"Maybe now they'll let me turn round", thought Gregor and

went back to work. He could not help panting loudly with

the effort and had sometimes to stop and take a rest. No-

one was making him rush any more, everything was left up to

him. As soon as he had finally finished turning round he

began to move straight ahead. He was amazed at the great

distance that separated him from his room, and could not

understand how he had covered that distance in his weak

state a little while before and almost without noticing it.

He concentrated on crawling as fast as he could and hardly

noticed that there was not a word, not any cry, from his

family to distract him.

He did not turn his head until he had reached the doorway.

He did not turn it all the way round as he felt his neck

becoming stiff, but it was nonetheless enough to see that

nothing behind him had changed, only his sister had stood

up. With his last glance he saw that his mother had now

fallen completely asleep.

He was hardly inside his room before the door was hurriedly

shut, bolted and locked. The sudden noise behind Gregor so

startled him that his little legs collapsed under him. It

was his sister who had been in so much of a rush. She had

been standing there waiting and sprung forward lightly,

Gregor had not heard her coming at all, and as she turned

the key in the lock she said loudly to her parents "At

last!".

"What now, then?", Gregor asked himself as he looked round

in the darkness. He soon made the discovery that he could

no longer move at all. This was no surprise to him, it

seemed rather that being able to actually move around on

those spindly little legs until then was unnatural. He also

felt relatively comfortable. It is true that his entire

body was aching, but the pain seemed to be slowly getting

weaker and weaker and would finally disappear altogether.

He could already hardly feel the decayed apple in his back

or the inflamed area around it, which was entirely covered

in white dust. He thought back of his family with emotion

and love. If it was possible, he felt that he must go away

even more strongly than his sister. He remained in this

state of empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the

clock tower strike three in the morning. He watched as it

slowly began to get light everywhere outside the window too.

Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely,

and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils.

When the cleaner came in early in the morning - they'd often

asked her not to keep slamming the doors but with her

strength and in her hurry she still did, so that everyone in

the flat knew when she'd arrived and from then on it was

impossible to sleep in peace - she made her usual brief look

in on Gregor and at first found nothing special. She

thought he was laying there so still on purpose, playing the

martyr; she attributed all possible understanding to him.

She happened to be holding the long broom in her hand, so

she tried to tickle Gregor with it from the doorway. When

she had no success with that she tried to make a nuisance of

herself and poked at him a little, and only when she found

she could shove him across the floor with no resistance at

all did she start to pay attention. She soon realised what

had really happened, opened her eyes wide, whistled to

herself, but did not waste time to yank open the bedroom

doors and shout loudly into the darkness of the bedrooms:

"Come and 'ave a look at this, it's dead, just lying there,

stone dead!"

Mr. and Mrs. Samsa sat upright there in their marriage bed

and had to make an effort to get over the shock caused by

the cleaner before they could grasp what she was saying.

But then, each from his own side, they hurried out of bed.

Mr. Samsa threw the blanket over his shoulders, Mrs. Samsa

just came out in her nightdress; and that is how they went

into Gregor's room. On the way they opened the door to the

living room where Grete had been sleeping since the three

gentlemen had moved in; she was fully dressed as if she had

never been asleep, and the paleness of her face seemed to

confirm this. "Dead?", asked Mrs. Samsa, looking at the

charwoman enquiringly, even though she could have checked

for herself and could have known it even without checking.

"That's what I said", replied the cleaner, and to prove it

she gave Gregor's body another shove with the broom, sending

it sideways across the floor. Mrs. Samsa made a movement as

if she wanted to hold back the broom, but did not complete

it. "Now then", said Mr. Samsa, "let's give thanks to God

for that". He crossed himself, and the three women followed

his example.

Grete, who had not taken her eyes from the corpse, said:

"Just look how thin he was. He didn't eat anything for so

long. The food came out again just the same as when it went

in". Gregor's body was indeed completely dried up and flat,

they had not seen it until then, but now he was not lifted

up on his little legs, nor did he do anything to make them

look away.

"Grete, come with us in here for a little while", said Mrs.

Samsa with a pained smile, and Grete followed her parents

into the bedroom but not without looking back at the body.

The cleaner shut the door and opened the window wide.

Although it was still early in the morning the fresh air had

something of warmth mixed in with it. It was already the

end of March, after all.

The three gentlemen stepped out of their room and looked

round in amazement for their breakfasts; they had been

forgotten about. "Where is our breakfast?", the middle

gentleman asked the cleaner irritably. She just put her

finger on her lips and made a quick and silent sign to the

men that they might like to come into Gregor's room. They

did so, and stood around Gregor's corpse with their hands in

the pockets of their well-worn coats. It was now quite

light in the room.

Then the door of the bedroom opened and Mr. Samsa appeared

in his uniform with his wife on one arm and his daughter on

the other. All of them had been crying a little; Grete now

and then pressed her face against her father's arm.

"Leave my home. Now!", said Mr. Samsa, indicating the door

and without letting the women from him. "What do you

mean?", asked the middle of the three gentlemen somewhat

disconcerted, and he smiled sweetly. The other two held

their hands behind their backs and continually rubbed them

together in gleeful anticipation of a loud quarrel which

could only end in their favour. "I mean just what I said",

answered Mr. Samsa, and, with his two companions, went in a

straight line towards the man. At first, he stood there

still, looking at the ground as if the contents of his head

were rearranging themselves into new positions. "Alright,

we'll go then", he said, and looked up at Mr. Samsa as if he

had been suddenly overcome with humility and wanted

permission again from Mr. Samsa for his decision. Mr. Samsa

merely opened his eyes wide and briefly nodded to him

several times. At that, and without delay, the man actually

did take long strides into the front hallway; his two

friends had stopped rubbing their hands some time before and

had been listening to what was being said. Now they jumped

off after their friend as if taken with a sudden fear that

Mr. Samsa might go into the hallway in front of them and

break the connection with their leader. Once there, all

three took their hats from the stand, took their sticks from

the holder, bowed without a word and left the premises. Mr.

Samsa and the two women followed them out onto the landing;

but they had had no reason to mistrust the men' intentions

and as they leaned over the landing they saw how the three

gentlemen made slow but steady progress down the many steps.

As they turned the corner on each floor they disappeared and

would reappear a few moments later; the further down they

went, the more that the Samsa family lost interest in them;

when a butcher's boy, proud of posture with his tray on his

head, passed them on his way up and came nearer than they

were, Mr. Samsa and the women came away from the landing and

went, as if relieved, back into the flat.

They decided the best way to make use of that day was for

relaxation and to go for a walk; not only had they earned a

break from work but they were in serious need of it. So

they sat at the table and wrote three letters of excusal,

Mr. Samsa to his employers, Mrs. Samsa to her contractor and

Grete to her principal. The cleaner came in while they were

writing to tell them she was going, she'd finished her work

for that morning. The three of them at first just nodded

without looking up from what they were writing, and it was

only when the cleaner still did not seem to want to leave

that they looked up in irritation. "Well?", asked Mr.

Samsa. The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile on

her face as if she had some tremendous good news to report,

but would only do it if she was clearly asked to. The

almost vertical little ostrich feather on her hat, which had

been source of irritation to Mr. Samsa all the time she had

been working for them, swayed gently in all directions.

"What is it you want then?", asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the

cleaner had the most respect for. "Yes", she answered, and

broke into a friendly laugh that made her unable to speak

straight away, "well then, that thing in there, you needn't

worry about how you're going to get rid of it. That's all

been sorted out." Mrs. Samsa and Grete bent down over their

letters as if intent on continuing with what they were

writing; Mr. Samsa saw that the cleaner wanted to start

describing everything in detail but, with outstretched hand,

he made it quite clear that she was not to. So, as she was

prevented from telling them all about it, she suddenly

remembered what a hurry she was in and, clearly peeved,

called out "Cheerio then, everyone", turned round sharply

and left, slamming the door terribly as she went.

"Tonight she gets sacked", said Mr. Samsa, but he received

no reply from either his wife or his daughter as the

charwoman seemed to have destroyed the peace they had only

just gained. They got up and went over to the window where

they remained with their arms around each other. Mr. Samsa

twisted round in his chair to look at them and sat there

watching for a while. Then he called out: "Come here, then.

Let's forget about all that old stuff, shall we. Come and

give me a bit of attention". The two women immediately did

as he said, hurrying over to him where they kissed him and

hugged him and then they quickly finished their letters.

After that, the three of them left the flat together, which

was something they had not done for months, and took the

tram out to the open country outside the town. They had the

tram, filled with warm sunshine, all to themselves. Leant

back comfortably on their seats, they discussed their

prospects and found that on closer examination they were not

at all bad - until then they had never asked each other

about their work but all three had jobs which were very good

and held particularly good promise for the future. The

greatest improvement for the time being, of course, would be

achieved quite easily by moving house; what they needed now

was a flat that was smaller and cheaper than the current one

which had been chosen by Gregor, one that was in a better

location and, most of all, more practical. All the time,

Grete was becoming livelier. With all the worry they had

been having of late her cheeks had become pale, but, while

they were talking, Mr. and Mrs. Samsa were struck, almost

simultaneously, with the thought of how their daughter was

blossoming into a well built and beautiful young lady. They

became quieter. Just from each other's glance and almost

without knowing it they agreed that it would soon be time to

find a good man for her. And, as if in confirmation of

their new dreams and good intentions, as soon as they

reached their destination Grete was the first to get up and

stretch out her young body.

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TITLE AND COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, Translated by David Wyllie.

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