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It was not until it was getting dark that evening that Gregor awoke
from his deep and coma-like sleep. He would have woken soon
afterwards anyway even if he hadn't been disturbed, as he had had
enough sleep and felt fully rested. But he had the impression that
some hurried steps and the sound of the door leading into the front
room being carefully shut had woken him. The light from the
electric street lamps shone palely here and there onto the ceiling
and tops of the furniture, but down below, where Gregor was, it was
dark. He pushed himself over to the door, feeling his way clumsily
with his antennae - of which he was now beginning to learn the value
- in order to see what had been happening there. The whole of his
left side seemed like one, painfully stretched scar, and he limped
badly on his two rows of legs. One of the legs had been badly
injured in the events of that morning - it was nearly a miracle that
only one of them had been - and dragged along lifelessly.
It was only when he had reached the door that he realised what it
actually was that had drawn him over to it; it was the smell of
something to eat. By the door there was a dish filled with
sweetened milk with little pieces of white bread floating in it. He
was so pleased he almost laughed, as he was even hungrier than he
had been that morning, and immediately dipped his head into the
milk, nearly covering his eyes with it. But he soon drew his head
back again in disappointment; not only did the pain in his tender
left side make it difficult to eat the food - he was only able to
eat if his whole body worked together as a snuffling whole - but the
milk did not taste at all nice. Milk like this was normally his
favourite drink, and his sister had certainly left it there for him
because of that, but he turned, almost against his own will, away
from the dish and crawled back into the centre of the room.
Through the crack in the door, Gregor could see that the gas had
been lit in the living room. His father at this time would normally
be sat with his evening paper, reading it out in a loud voice to
Gregor's mother, and sometimes to his sister, but there was now not
a sound to be heard. Gregor's sister would often write and tell him
about this reading, but maybe his father had lost the habit in
recent times. It was so quiet all around too, even though there
must have been somebody in the flat. "What a quiet life it is the
family lead", said Gregor to himself, and, gazing into the darkness,
felt a great pride that he was able to provide a life like that in
such a nice home for his sister and parents. But what now, if all
this peace and wealth and comfort should come to a horrible and
frightening end? That was something that Gregor did not want to
think about too much, so he started to move about, crawling up and
down the room.
Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the room was
opened very slightly and hurriedly closed again; later on the door
on the other side did the same; it seemed that someone needed to
enter the room but thought better of it. Gregor went and waited
immediately by the door, resolved either to bring the timorous
visitor into the room in some way or at least to find out who it
was; but the door was opened no more that night and Gregor waited in
vain. The previous morning while the doors were locked everyone had
wanted to get in there to him, but now, now that he had opened up
one of the doors and the other had clearly been unlocked some time
during the day, no-one came, and the keys were in the other sides.
It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the living room
was put out, and now it was easy to see that parents and sister had
stayed awake all that time, as they all could be distinctly heard as
they went away together on tip-toe. It was clear that no-one would
come into Gregor's room any more until morning; that gave him plenty
of time to think undisturbed about how he would have to re-arrange
his life. For some reason, the tall, empty room where he was forced
to remain made him feel uneasy as he lay there flat on the floor,
even though he had been living in it for five years. Hardly aware
of what he was doing other than a slight feeling of shame, he
hurried under the couch. It pressed down on his back a little, and
he was no longer able to lift his head, but he nonetheless felt
immediately at ease and his only regret was that his body was too
broad to get it all underneath.
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