The Double

“Ah! It’s you, gentlemen!” Mr. Goliadkin interrupted hastily, slightly embarrassed and scandalized by the clerks’ astonishment and at the same time by the intimacy of their manners, but anyhow acting the casual and fine fellow willy-nilly. “So you’ve deserted, gentlemen, heh, heh, heh!…” Here, so as not to demean himself and yet to condescend to the chancellery youth, with whom he always kept himself within due limits, he tried to pat one young man on the shoulder; but on this occasion Mr. Goliadkin’s popularism did not succeed, and instead of a decently intimate gesture, something quite different came out.

“Well, so our bear is sitting there?…”

“Who’s that, Yakov Petrovich?”

“Well, the bear there, as if you didn’t know who is called the bear?…” Mr. Goliadkin laughed and turned to the cashier to take his change. “I’m speaking of Andrei Filippovich, gentlemen,” he went on, having finished with the cashier and this time turning to the clerks with a quite serious air. The two registrars exchanged meaningful winks.

“He’s still sitting there, and he asked about you, Yakov Petrovich,” one of them replied.

“Sitting, ah! In that case let him sit, gentlemen. And he asked about me, eh?”

“He did, Yakov Petrovich. But what is it with you, all scented, all pomaded, such a dandy?…”

“Yes, gentlemen, so it is! Enough, now…” Mr. Goliadkin responded, looking to one side and with a strained smile. Seeing Mr. Goliadkin’s smile, the clerks burst out laughing. Mr. Goliadkin pursed his lips slightly.

“I’ll tell you, gentlemen, in a friendly way,” our hero said after some silence, as if (“So be it, then!”) deciding to reveal something to the clerks, “you all know me, gentlemen, but so far you know me from only one side. No one is to blame in this case, and, I confess, it’s partly my own fault.”

Mr. Goliadkin compressed his lips and looked meaningfully at the clerks. The clerks again exchanged winks.

“Till now, gentlemen, you have not known me. To explain myself here and now would not be entirely appropriate. I’ll tell you only a thing or two in passing and by the way. There are people, gentlemen, who dislike roundabout paths and mask themselves only for masked balls. There are people who do not see the direct destiny of man in the dexterous skill of polishing the parquet with their boots. There are also people, gentlemen, who will not say they are happy and have a full life, when, for instance, their trousers fit well. Finally, there are people who do not like to leap and fidget in vain, to flirt and fawn, and, above all, to poke their noses where they are not asked…I, gentlemen, have told you nearly all; permit me now to withdraw…”

Mr. Goliadkin stopped. Since the gentlemen registrars were now fully satisfied, they both suddenly rocked with extremely impolite laughter. Mr. Goliadkin flared up.

“Laugh, gentlemen, laugh meanwhile! You’ll live and you’ll see,” he said with a feeling of injured dignity, taking his hat and retreating towards the door.

“But I’ll say more, gentlemen,” he added, addressing the gentlemen registrars one last time, “I’ll say more—the two of you are here face-to-face with me. These, gentlemen, are my rules: if I don’t succeed, I keep trying; if I do succeed, I keep quiet; and in any case I don’t undermine anyone. I’m not an intriguer, and I’m proud of it. I wouldn’t make a good diplomat. They also say, gentlemen, that the bird flies to the fowler. That’s true, and I’m ready to agree: but who is the fowler here, and who is the bird? That’s still a question, gentlemen!”

Mr. Goliadkin fell eloquently silent and with a most significant mien, that is, raising his eyebrows and compressing his lips to the utmost, bowed and went out, leaving the gentlemen clerks in extreme astonishment.

“Where to, sir?” Petrushka asked quite sternly, probably sick by then of dragging about in the cold. “Where to, sir?” he asked Mr. Goliadkin, meeting his terrible, all-annihilating gaze, with which our hero had already provided himself twice that day, and to which he now resorted for a third time, going down the steps.

“To the Izmailovsky Bridge.”

“To the Izmailovsky Bridge! Gee-up!”