Page 136 of 140

As they turned the corner on each floor they disappeared and

would reappear a few moments later; the further down they went,

the more that the Samsa family lost interest in them; when a

butcher's boy, proud of posture with his tray on his head, passed

them on his way up and came nearer than they were, Mr. Samsa and

the women came away from the landing and went, as if relieved,

back into the flat.

They decided the best way to make use of that day was for

relaxation and to go for a walk; not only had they earned a break

from work but they were in serious need of it. So they sat at the

table and wrote three letters of excusal, Mr. Samsa to his

employers, Mrs. Samsa to her contractor and Grete to her

principal. The cleaner came in while they were writing to tell

them she was going, she'd finished her work for that morning. The

three of them at first just nodded without looking up from what

they were writing, and it was only when the cleaner still did not

seem to want to leave that they looked up in irritation. "Well?",

asked Mr. Samsa. The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile

on her face as if she had some tremendous good news to report,

but would only do it if she was clearly asked to. The almost

vertical little ostrich feather on her hat, which had been a

source of irritation to Mr. Samsa all the time she had been

working for them, swayed gently in all directions.