Metamorphosis Page #3

								


So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first, carefully turning his head to the side.  This he managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body eventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had at last got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself forward the same way.  And he could not knock himself out now at any price; better to stay in bed than lose consciousness.

It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier, but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos.  He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice.  At the same time, though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm consideration was much better than rushing to desperate conclusions.  At times like this he would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had little confidence or cheer to offer him.  "Seven o'clock, already", he said to himself when the clock struck again, "seven o'clock, and there's still a fog like this."  And he lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back to their real and natural state.

But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past seven I'll definitely have to have got properly out of bed.  And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask what's happened to me as well, as they open up at work before seven o'clock."  And so he set himself to the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at the same time.  If he succeeded in falling out of bed in this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid injuring it.  His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto the carpet.  His main concern was for the loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through all the doors would probably raise concern if not alarm.  But it was something that had to be risked.

When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed - the new method was more of a game than an effort, all he had to do was rock back and forth - it occurred to him how simple everything would be if somebody came to help him.  Two strong people - he had his father and the maid in mind - would have been more than enough; they would only have to push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as he swang over onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would find a use.  Should he really call for help though, even apart from the fact that all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.
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