The weather, too, was bitterly cold, and the exposure to the night air might bring on immediate and fatal consequences.

He examined Kafka closely and came to the conclusion that he was really asleep.

To wake him would be absolutely cruel as well as dangerous.

He looked kindly at the weary face and then began to walk up and down between the plants, coming back at the end of every turn to look again and assure himself that no change had taken place.
After some time he began to wonder at the total silence in the house, or, rather, the silence which was carefully provided for in the conservatory impressed itself upon him for the first time.

It was strange, he thought, that no one came to put out the lamps.