was covered with dust; fluff and hair and remnants of food trailed with him, caught on his
back and along his sides; his indifference to everything was much too great for him to
turn on his back and scrape himself clean on the carpet as once he had done several times
a day. And in sprite of his condition no shame deterred him from advancing a little over
the spotless floor of the living room.”
At first no one was aware of him. The lodgers, disappointed in their expectation of
hearing good violin playing, were clustered near the window whispering among
themselves and waiting for the music to stop. And yet, to Gregor his sister was playing
beautifully. He “crawled a little farther forward and lowered his head to the ground so
that it might be possible for his eyes to meet hers. Was he an animal that music had such
an effect upon him? He felt as if the way were opening before him to the unknown
nourishment he craved. He was determined to push forward till he reached his sister, to
pull at her skirt and so let her know that she was to come into his room with her violin for
no one here appreciated her playing as he would appreciate it. He would never let her out
of his room, at least not so long as he lived; his frightful appearance would become for
the first time useful to him; he would watch all the doors of his room at once and spit at
intruders; but his sister should need no constraint, she should stay with him of her own
free will; she should sit beside him on the couch, bend down her ear to him and hear him
confide that he had had the firm intention of sending her to the School of Music, and that,
but for his mishap, last Christmas—surely Christmas was long past?—he would have
announced it to everybody without allowing a single objection. After this confession his
sister would be so touched that she would burst into tears, and Gregor would then raise
himself to her shoulder and kiss her on the neck, which, now that she went to business,
she kept free of any ribbon or collar.”
Suddenly the middle lodger sees Gregor, but instead of driving Gregor out the father tries
to soothe the lodgers and (in a reversal of his actions) “spreading out his arms, tried to
urge them back into their own room and at the same time to block their view of Gregor.
They now began to be really a little angry, one could not tell whether because of the old
man’s behavior or because it had just dawned on them that all unwittingly they had such a
neighbor as Gregor next door. They demanded explanations of his father, they waved
their arms like him, tugged uneasily at their beards and only with reluctance backed
towards their room.” The sister rushes into the lodgers’ room and quickly makes up their
beds, but “The old man seemed once more to be so possessed by his mulish selfassertiveness
that he was forgetting all the respect he should show to his lodgers. He kept
driving them on and driving them on until in the very door of the bedroom the middle
lodger stamped his foot loudly on the floor and so brought him to a halt. ‘I beg to
announce,’ said the lodger, lifting one hand and looking also at Gregor’s mother and
sister, ‘that because of the disgusting conditions prevailing in this household and
family’—here he spat on the floor with emphatic brevity—’I give you notice on the spot.
Naturally I won’t pay you a penny for the days I have lived here; on the contrary I shall
consider bringing an action for damages against you based on claims—believe me—that
will be easily susceptible of proof.’ He ceased and stared straight in front of him, as if he
expected something. In fact his two friends at once rushed into the breach with these
words: ‘And we too give notice on the spot.’ On that he seized the door-handle and shut
the door with a slam.”
Scene VII: The sister is completely unmasked; her betrayal is absolute and fatal to