- end_line
- 619
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-28T02:25:17.183Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 562
- text
- 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.
- title
- Chunk 12