They got up and went
over to the window where they remained with their arms around each
other.
over to the window where they remained with their arms around each
other.
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
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.
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Translated by David Wyllie.
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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.
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Translated by David Wyllie.
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