When Mr. Fogg and Passepartout Set Foot upon the American Continent


Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right. Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.

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One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections.