Gregor Samsa is a monster. But we must not allow this fact to blind us to the irony and heartbreak of the story’s climax. When Grete plays the violin for the lodgers—who are rudely unimpressed—it is both the beauty of the music and the desire to show his sister that he, at least, appreciates it that draws Gregor out of his room. The sight of a giant insect in the apartment causes an uproar. The lodgers become upset at the “filthy conditions” and give notice. Grete herself reaches breaking point and, in earshot of the cowering Gregor, tells her parents that they must, “get rid of it.” This seems to be the decisive moment for Gregor. He works his way back into his room on his many legs. The door is slammed behind him. There he, “thinks of his family with tenderness and love” and agrees with the decision that he must go, “even more strongly than his sister.” As the first light of a new day comes through the window, almost by an act of will, he dies. What’s so ironic and heartbreaking about this scene is that the insect is actually the most humane character in it. He wants to tug at Grete's skirt and draw her into his filthy nest to play her violin there. He naively imagines his intentions are obvious and that he is not simply a giant insect advancing upon a roomful of appalled human beings. And in the end it is this—the humanity of his nature, and not the inhumanness of his appearance—that seems to finish him off.