Metamorphosis



by Franz Kafka



Translated by David Wyllie









I





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.









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 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.









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 no 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

that 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 than 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 their 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

and tears that had taken hold of her, displacing her earlier certainty.



“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’s

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 a 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.