The Metamorphosis

She brought him an entire smorgasbord in order to investigate his tastes, all of it spread out on an old newspaper.

"But today, it tasted good to him," she said when Gregor had really put away the food; while in the opposite situation, which gradually began to repeat itself more and more often, she was in the habit of sadly saying, "Now it's all come to a standstill again."

Time and time again, Gregor heard one of them extend to another a futile invitation to eat and receive no other answer than, "Thank you, I've had enough," or something similar.

And since that time, he had begun to work with a particular fervor, going almost overnight from being a minor clerk to a traveling salesman, who naturally had a lot of other possibilities for earning money because his success at work was transformed immediately into the form of a cash commission that could be laid on the table at home before his astonished and delighted family.

Gregor nodded eagely behind his door, delighted at this unexpected foresight and frugality.

Gregor while he was still looking out the window, immobile and situated so as to scare.

In the early morning-it was yet night-Gregor already has the opportunity to test the strength of the carefully-considered resolutions he had made, because the sister, almost fully dressed, opened the door leading to the hall and looked with anticipation inside.

But, as if she rued her behavior, she immediately opened the door again and tiptoed inside, as she would near a seriously ill person or even a stranger.

It was very hard for him to endure lying down quietly during the night, and food didn't give him even the smallest pleasure any more, so as a diversion, he picked up the habit of crawling back and forth across the walls and ceiling.

A slight undulation moved through the body, and in the almost absent-minded state that Gregor found himself in up above, it could happen that, to his surprise, he let himself go and crashed to the floor.

Gregor had in great haste pulled the linen sheet further down and in more folds, and the whole of it really looked like a linen cloth thrown randomly over the couch.

Now she was in no position to do this herself; however, she didn't dare ask the father for help, the maid would certainly not have helped her-as this almost sixteen-year-old girl stood by her post courageously since the former cook's dismissal, but had begged for the privilege of being allowed to perpetually confine herself to the kitchen, opening the door only when specifically called-and so the sister had no choice except to go fetch the mother one time while the father was absent.

And hardly had the women left the room, groaning as they pushed the chest of drawers, before Gregor stuck his head out from under the couch in order to see how he could intervene as carefully and scrupulously as possible.

...yes, even as a student in elementary school-he really didn't have any more time to scrutinize the good intentions of the two women...

As he now staggered about to gather his strength for running, he could barely keep his eyes open; in his witlessness, he could hardly think of deliverance through any method other than running, and he had almost forgotten that the walls were available to him...

...although they were blocked by the painstakingly-carved furniture full of points and pinnacles, when something small that had been lightly tossed flew close beside and rolled in front of him.

As tears poured from his eyes, and in the midst of minor asphyxiation attacks, he looked at his unsuspecting sister as she used a broom to sweep into a bucket, not just the leftovers but also the food that Gregor had hardly touched, as if these were not usable any more; she closed the wooden lid and then carried it all out of the room.