"Gregor", said his father now from the room to his left, "the chief
clerk has come round and wants to know why you didn't leave on the
early train. We don't know what to say to him. And anyway, he
wants to speak to you personally. So please open up this door. I'm
sure he'll be good enough to forgive the untidiness of your room."
Then the chief clerk called "Good morning, Mr. Samsa". "He isn't
well", said his mother to the chief clerk, while his father
continued to speak through the door. "He isn't well, please believe
me. Why else would Gregor have missed a train! The lad only ever
thinks about the business. It nearly makes me cross the way he
never goes out in the evenings; he's been in town for a week now but
stayed home every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and just
reads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of relaxation
is working with his fretsaw. He's made a little frame, for
instance, it only took him two or three evenings, you'll be amazed
how nice it is; it's hanging up in his room; you'll see it as soon
as Gregor opens the door. Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't
have been able to get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so
stubborn; and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he
is, but he isn't." "I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly
and thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss any
word of the conversation. "Well I can't think of any other way of
explaining it, Mrs. Samsa", said the chief clerk, "I hope it's
nothing serious. But on the other hand, I must say that if we
people in commerce ever become slightly unwell then, fortunately or
unfortunately as you like, we simply have to overcome it because of
business considerations." "Can the chief clerk come in to see you
now then?", asked his father impatiently, knocking at the door
again. "No", said Gregor. In the room on his right there followed
a painful silence; in the room on his left his sister began to cry.