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Page 7
And without considering that he still was not familiar with
how well he could move about in his present state, or that
his speech still might not - or probably would not - be
understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through
the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing
who, ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both
hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little
scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his
numerous little legs. Hardly had that happened than, for
the first time that day, he began to feel alright with his
body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to
his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were
even making the effort to carry him where he wanted to go;
and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon be
finally at an end. He held back the urge to move but
swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the floor.
His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at
first, quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly
jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread
shouting: "Help, for pity's sake, Help!" The way she held
her head suggested she wanted to see Gregor better, but the
unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed that she
did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her
with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the
table she sat quickly down on it without knowing what she
was doing; without even seeming to notice that the coffee
pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring
down onto the carpet.
"Mother, mother", said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He
had completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but
could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at
the sight of the flow of coffee. That set his mother
screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of
his father as he rushed towards her. Gregor, though, had no
time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had
already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister,
he looked back for the last time. Gregor made a run for
him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk
must have expected something, as he leapt down several steps
at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all around
the staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed,
unfortunately, to put Gregor's father into a panic as well.
Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now,
instead of running after the chief clerk himself, or at
least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor's
father seized the chief clerk's stick in his right hand (the
chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his
hat and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the
table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into
his room, stamping his foot at him as he went. Gregor's
appeals to his father were of no help, his appeals were
simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his
head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder.
Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor's mother
had pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed
her hands to her face. A strong draught of air flew in from
the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the
newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were
blown onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor's father as
he drove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild
man. Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards
and was only able to go very slowly. If Gregor had only
been allowed to turn round he would have been back in his
room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the
time to do that his father would become impatient, and there
was the threat of a lethal blow to his back or head from the
stick in his father's hand any moment. Eventually, though,
Gregor realised that he had no choice as he saw, to his
disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a
straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with
frequent anxious glances at his father, to turn himself
round. It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able
to see his good intentions as he did nothing to hinder him,
in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give
directions from a distance as to which way to turn.
If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It
was making Gregor quite confused. When he had nearly
finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, he
made a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he
had just come. He was pleased when he finally had his head
in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too
narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without
further difficulty. In his present mood, it obviously did
not occur to his father to open the other of the double
doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get through.
He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got
back into his room as quickly as possible. Nor would he
ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as
preparation for getting through the doorway. What he did,
making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregor forwards
all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it
sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father
behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor
pushed himself into the doorway without regard for what
might happen. One side of his body lifted itself, he lay at
an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door
and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks on it,
soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move
at all by himself, the little legs along one side hung
quivering in the air while those on the other side were
pressed painfully against the ground. Then his father gave
him a hefty shove from behind which released him from where
he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep
into his room. The door was slammed shut with the stick,
then, finally, all was quiet.
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