Chapter 2

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 his 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 the 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.