Kafka's Works

Author: Ye Tingfang et al. Translated
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-01-01
Features: It had reached the point where even if he exerted more effort to swing, he couldn’t maintain balance. He had to take decisive action immediately, because in five minutes it would be a quarter past seven. Just then, the doorbell of the residence rang. "Someone from the company has come," he thought, almost stunned, while his legs continued to move more violently. A moment of silence prevailed around him. "They won’t open the door," Gregor thought, clinging to some futile hope. But then, as usual, the maid naturally approached the door with her firm steps to open it. Gregor would immediately know who the visitor was just by hearing their greeting—it was the head secretary himself. Why was Gregor destined to work for such a company? With just a small mistake, he would immediately attract great suspicion? Were all the employees scoundrels? Was there not a single loyal and obedient person among them, someone so hilariously uneasy about spending just three hours at the company in the morning that they couldn’t even get out of bed? If it weren’t for the need to dig so deeply into the matter—if the head secretary had to personally come to the innocent family to explain that only an expert like the head secretary could investigate this suspicious matter? It was more out of the excitement of these thoughts than a correct decision that Gregor jumped off the bed with all his might. A loud thud echoed, but it wasn’t terrifying. The carpet slightly softened the sound of the fall, and his back was more elastic than he had imagined. The sound was dull and not particularly alarming. However, he hadn’t carefully lifted his head and ended up hitting the floor. He twisted his head, rubbing it painfully and resentfully against the carpet. "Something has fallen inside," the head secretary said in the room on the left. Gregor wondered if the things that had happened to him that day might one day also befall the head secretary; in fact, one had to admit that such a possibility existed. But as if to answer this question roughly, the head secretary walked firmly a few steps in the adjacent room, the sound of his patent leather boots creaking. From the room on the right, his sister whispered to Gregor, "Gregor, the head secretary is here." "I know," Gregor mumbled, but he didn’t dare raise his voice enough for his sister to hear. "Gregor," his father said in the room on the left, "Mr. Head Secretary is here. He wants to know why you missed the early train. We don’t know what to tell him. Besides, he wants to talk to you personally. So please open the door. He is a reasonable man and won’t mind the mess in your room." "Good morning, Mr. Samsa," the head secretary greeted kindly. "He isn’t feeling well," his mother said to the head secretary. And his father continued beside the door, "He isn’t feeling well, believe me, Mr. Head Secretary. Otherwise, how could Gregor have missed the train! This child’s head is always filled with company matters. He’s late