الفصل الفصل 1 · 第1章

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 five

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

façade; 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 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 of 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.