Chapter I · II

Something fell in there,” said the chief clerk in the room on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether something similar to what had happened to him today might not one day happen to the chief clerk as well; one really had to admit the possibility of it. But as if in crude answer to this question, the chief clerk now took a few firm steps in the next room, making his patent leather boots creak. From the room on the right, his sister whispered to let Gregor know: “Gregor, the chief clerk is here.” “I know,” Gregor said to himself; but he did not dare raise his voice loudly enough for his sister to hear.

“Gregor,” his father now said from the room on the left, “the chief clerk has come and is inquiring why you didn’t leave on the early train. We don’t know what to tell him. Besides, he also wants to speak with you personally. So please open the door. He will be good enough to excuse the untidiness of the room.” “Good morning, Mr. Samsa,” the chief clerk called out amiably in between. “He is not well,” the mother said to the chief clerk while the father was still talking at the door, “he is not well, believe me, sir. Why else would Gregor miss a train! The boy has nothing in his head but business. It almost vexes me that he never goes out in the evening; he’s been in town for eight days now, but every evening he was at home. He sits with us at the table, quietly reading the newspaper or studying train timetables. It is quite a diversion for him when he occupies himself with fretwork. For instance, in the course of two or three evenings he carved a little frame; you’ll be amazed how pretty it is; it’s hanging in his room; you’ll see it in a moment, as soon as Gregor opens the door. I am so glad, by the way, that you are here, sir; by ourselves we would never have gotten Gregor to open the door; he is so stubborn; and he is certainly not well, even though he denied it this morning.” “I’ll be right out,” Gregor said slowly and deliberately, not moving, so as not to lose a single word of the conversation. “I cannot explain it any other way myself, madam,” the chief clerk said, “let us hope it is nothing serious. Although on the other hand I must say that we business people—as you will, unfortunately or fortunately—very often simply have to overcome a slight indisposition for business considerations.” “Well then, can the chief clerk come in to see you now?” the impatient father asked, knocking at the door once more. “No,” said Gregor. In the room on the left, an awkward silence fell; in the room on the right, his sister began to sob.

Why hadn’t his sister gone to join the others? She had probably only just gotten out of bed and had not even begun to dress. And why was she crying? Because he wasn’t getting up and wasn’t letting the chief clerk in, because he was in danger of losing his position, and because the boss would then hound their parents again with the old debts? Surely those were, for the moment, unnecessary worries. Gregor was still here, and he didn’t have the slightest intention of abandoning his family. At the moment he was lying on the carpet, and no one who knew his condition would have seriously expected him to let the chief clerk in. But surely Gregor couldn’t simply be dismissed on the spot over this small discourtesy, for which an appropriate excuse could easily be found later. And it seemed to Gregor that it would be far more sensible to leave him in peace now, instead of bothering him with weeping and entreaties. But it was precisely the uncertainty that tormented the others and excused their behaviour.

“Mr. Samsa,” the chief clerk now called out in a raised voice, “what is the matter? You barricade yourself in your room, answer only with yes and no, cause your parents grave, unnecessary worry, and—to mention this only in passing—neglect your business duties in a truly unheard-of manner. I speak here in the name of your parents and your employer, and I most seriously ask you for an immediate, clear explanation. I am astonished, I am astonished. I thought I knew you to be a calm, sensible person, and now you suddenly seem intent on parading strange whims. The boss did hint to me this morning at a possible explanation for your absence—it concerned the collection of funds recently entrusted to you—but I practically gave my word of honour that such an explanation could not possibly apply. Now, however, I see your incomprehensible obstinacy and lose every desire to speak up for you in the slightest. Nor is your position by any means the most secure. I had originally intended to tell you all this in private, but since you are keeping me here, wasting my time to no purpose, I see no reason why your good parents should not hear it as well. Your performance of late has been very unsatisfactory; it is not the season for doing exceptional business, that we concede; but a season for doing no business at all simply does not exist, Mr. Samsa, must not exist.”

“Oh, but sir,” cried Gregor, beside himself, forgetting everything else in his agitation, “I am opening the door right away, this very instant. A slight indisposition, a dizzy spell, prevented me from getting up. I am still lying in bed right now. But now I feel quite fresh again. I am just getting out of bed. Just a moment’s patience! It isn’t going as well as I thought. But I am feeling fine already. How suddenly such a thing can come over a person! Only yesterday evening I was quite well, my parents know it, or rather, even yesterday evening I had a slight foreboding. They should have seen it in me. Why on earth didn’t I report it at the office! But one always thinks one can overcome an illness without staying at home. Sir! Spare my parents! There is no foundation for all the reproaches you are making against me now; no one had said a word to me about them. Perhaps you haven’t read the latest orders I sent in. Besides, I will be setting out on my trip on the eight o’clock train; these few hours of rest have restored my strength. Don’t let me keep you, sir; I will be at the office myself in no time, and please have the goodness to say so and to commend me to the boss!”

And while Gregor was tumbling all this out in haste, hardly knowing what he was saying, he had easily—probably thanks to the practice he had already had in bed—drawn near to the wardrobe and was now trying to pull himself upright against it. He really did want to open the door, really did want to show himself and speak to the chief clerk; he was eager to see what the others, who were now demanding to see him so urgently, would say at the sight of him. If they were horrified, then Gregor would no longer bear any responsibility and could be at peace. But if they took it all calmly, then he too would have no reason to be agitated, and could, if he hurried, actually be at the station by eight o’clock. At first he slipped several times off the smooth wardrobe, but at last he gave himself a final heave and stood upright; he paid no more attention to the pains in his lower body, fierce though they burned. Then he let himself fall against the back of a nearby chair, gripping its edges with his little legs. With that, however, he had also regained control over himself and fell silent, for now he could listen to the chief clerk.

“Did you understand even a single word?” the chief clerk asked the parents. “Surely he isn’t making a fool of us?” “For God’s sake,” the mother cried, already in tears, “he may be seriously ill, and here we are tormenting him. Grete! Grete!” she then screamed. “Mother?” called the sister from the other side. They communicated through Gregor’s room. “You must go to the doctor this instant. Gregor is sick. Hurry and fetch the doctor. Did you hear Gregor speaking just now?” “That was the voice of an animal,” said the chief clerk, remarkably softly compared to the mother’s shrieking. “Anna! Anna!” the father called through the hallway into the kitchen, clapping his hands, “fetch a locksmith at once!” And already the two girls were running with rustling skirts through the hallway—how had his sister managed to dress so quickly?—and tore open the apartment door. One did not hear the door slam shut at all; they had probably left it open, as is usually the case in homes where some great misfortune has occurred.

Gregor had become much calmer, however. To be sure, his words were no longer understood, even though they had seemed clear enough to him, clearer than before, perhaps because his ear had grown used to them. Still, people now believed that not all was right with him and were ready to help him. The confidence and certainty with which the first orders had been given did him good. He felt integrated once more into the human circle and expected magnificent and surprising feats from both the doctor and the locksmith, without really distinguishing clearly between them. In order to get his voice as clear as possible for the decisive discussions that were approaching, he coughed a little, taking care, however, to do so very quietly, since it was possible that even this sound was unlike human coughing, something he no longer trusted himself to judge. Meanwhile, in the adjoining room it had grown quite still. Perhaps the parents were sitting at the table with the chief clerk, whispering; perhaps they were all leaning against the door, listening.

Gregor slowly pushed himself with the armchair toward the door, let go of it there, threw himself against the door, held himself upright against it—the pads of his little legs had a bit of sticky substance on them—and rested there for a moment from the exertion. Then, however, he set to turning the key in the lock with his mouth. It seemed, unfortunately, that he had no actual teeth—what was he supposed to grasp the key with?—but in compensation his jaws were certainly very strong; with their help he really got the key in motion, paying no attention to the fact that he was undoubtedly inflicting some kind of injury on himself, for a brown liquid came from his mouth, flowed over the key, and dripped onto the floor. “Just listen,” the chief clerk said in the next room, “he’s turning the key.” That was a great encouragement to Gregor; but they all should have cheered him on, his father and mother too: “Go on, Gregor,” they should have cried, “keep at it, hold tight to the lock!” And imagining that everyone was tensely following his efforts, he clamped his jaws blindly onto the key with all the strength he could muster. As the key turned further, he danced around the lock, now holding himself upright only with his mouth, and hung onto the key or pressed it down again with the full weight of his body as needed. The clearer click of the lock finally snapping back literally revived Gregor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he said to himself: “So I didn’t need the locksmith after all,” and laid his head on the handle to open the door fully.

Since he had to open the door in this manner, it was actually already opened quite wide while he himself was still not to be seen. He first had to rotate slowly around the one door wing, and very cautiously at that, if he did not want to tumble clumsily onto his back just before entering the room. He was still occupied with that difficult maneuver and had no time to attend to anything else, when he already heard the chief clerk utter a loud “Oh!”—it sounded like the rushing of the wind—and now he saw him too, who was standing closest to the door, press his hand against his open mouth and step slowly backward, as though driven away by an invisible, uniformly acting force. The mother—who, despite the presence of the chief clerk, stood there with her hair still loose from the night, sticking up wildly—first looked at the father with clasped hands, then took two steps toward Gregor and collapsed amidst her skirts spreading all around her, her face sinking onto her breast, completely out of sight. The father clenched his fist with a hostile expression, as if he intended to drive Gregor back into his room, then looked uncertainly around the living room, shaded his eyes with his hands, and wept until his mighty chest shook.

Gregor did not enter the room at all now, but leaned from the inside against the firmly bolted wing of the door, so that only half of his body was visible and, above it, his head tilted to one side, with which he peered across at the others. Meanwhile it had grown much brighter; clearly visible on the other side of the street was a section of the endless, grayish-black building opposite—it was a hospital—with its regular windows puncturing the facade severely; the rain was still falling, but only in large, individually discernible drops that were literally pelted down onto the earth one by one. The breakfast dishes stood in lavish abundance on the table, for breakfast was the most important meal of the day for the father, which he dragged out for hours while reading various newspapers. Right on the opposite wall hung a photograph of Gregor from his military service, depicting him as a lieutenant, demanding respect for his posture and uniform with his hand on his sword and a carefree smile. The door to the hallway was open, and since the apartment door was open as well, one could see out onto the landing and down the beginning of the staircase.

“Well,” said Gregor, and was well aware that he was the only one who had kept his composure, “I will get dressed right away, pack up the samples, and set off. Are you willing, will you let me go? Well, Mr. Chief Clerk, you see that I am not obstinate and that I like to work; traveling is arduous, but I could not live without traveling. Where are you going now, Mr. Chief Clerk? To the office? Yes? Will you report everything truthfully? A person can be momentarily incapable of working, but that is precisely the right time to remember his past achievements and to consider that later, once the obstacle is removed, he will certainly work all the more diligently and attentively. After all, I am so deeply obligated to the director, as you well know. On the other hand, I have the care of my parents and my sister. I am in a tight spot, but I will work my way out of it again. Please do not make things harder for me than they already are. Stand up for me at the firm! Traveling salesmen are not well liked, I know. People think they earn heaps of money and lead a fine life into the bargain. People simply have no particular reason to think through this prejudice more thoroughly. But you, Mr. Chief Clerk, you have a better view of conditions than the rest of the staff, indeed, strictly between ourselves, a better view than the director himself, who in his capacity as employer easily allows his judgment to be swayed to an employee’s disadvantage. You also know very well that the traveling salesman, who is away from the office for almost the entire year, can so easily fall victim to gossip, coincidences, and unfounded complaints, against which it is entirely impossible for him to defend himself, since he usually knows nothing at all about them, and only when he returns home exhausted from a trip does he feel the dire consequences on his own skin, without any longer being able to fathom their causes. Mr. Chief Clerk, do not leave without saying a word to show me that you grant I am at least partly in the right!”