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Page 15
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.
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