The Double

“Hm…I’m saying,” the doctor interrupted, “that you need to reorganize your whole life radically and in some sense break your character.” (Krestyan Ivanovich strongly emphasized the word “break” and paused for a moment with a very significant air.) “Not to shun the merry life; to frequent the theater and the club, and in any case be no enemy of the bottle. Staying at home is no good…staying at home is impossible for you.”

“I, Krestyan Ivanovich, love quiet,” said Mr. Goliadkin, casting a significant glance at Krestyan Ivanovich and obviously seeking for words to express his thought more happily. “There’s only me and Petrushka in the apartment, Krestyan Ivanovich…I mean to say, my manservant, Krestyan Ivanovich. I mean to say, Krestyan Ivanovich, that I go my own way, a particular way. I’m my own particular man and, as it seems to me, I don’t depend on anybody. I also go for walks, Krestyan Ivanovich.”

“What?…Yes! Well, nowadays, going for a walk is nothing pleasurable; the climate’s quite poor.”

“Yes, sir, Krestyan Ivanovich. Though I’m a peaceable man, Krestyan Ivanovich, as I believe I’ve had the honor of explaining to you, my way goes separately, Krestyan Ivanovich. The path of life is broad…I mean…I mean to say, Krestyan Ivanovich, that…Excuse me, Krestyan Ivanovich, I’m no master of fine speaking.”

“Hm…you were saying…”

“I was saying that you must excuse me, Krestyan Ivanovich, for the fact that I, as it seems to me, am no master of fine speaking,” Mr. Goliadkin said in a half-offended tone, slightly confused and thrown off. “In this respect, Krestyan Ivanovich, I am not like others,” he added with some special smile, “and I am unable to speak at length; I never studied how to beautify my style. Instead, Krestyan Ivanovich, I act; I act instead, Krestyan Ivanovich.”

“Hm…How is it…that you act?” Krestyan Ivanovich rejoined. After which, silence ensued for a moment. The doctor gave Mr. Goliadkin a strange, mistrustful look. Mr. Goliadkin, in his turn, also gave the doctor a rather mistrustful sidelong glance.

“I, Krestyan Ivanovich,” Mr. Goliadkin began to go on in the same tone as before, slightly annoyed and perplexed by Krestyan Ivanovich’s extreme persistence, “I, Krestyan Ivanovich, love tranquillity, not worldly noise. With them there, I say, in great society, Krestyan Ivanovich, one must know how to polish the parquet with one’s boots…” (Here Mr. Goliadkin scraped the floor slightly with his foot.) “That’s what’s called for there, sir, and quips are also called for…knowing how to put together a perfumed compliment, sir…that’s what’s called for there. And I never studied that, Krestyan Ivanovich—I never studied all those clever things; I had no time. I’m a simple, unsophisticated man, and there’s no external brilliance in me. In that sense, Krestyan Ivanovich, I lay down my arms; I drop them, if I may put it that way.” Mr. Goliadkin said all this, to be sure, with such an air as to let it be known that our hero did not at all regret laying down his arms in this sense and never having studied clever things, but even quite the contrary. Krestyan Ivanovich, listening to him, looked down with quite an unpleasant scowl on his face, as if anticipating something beforehand. Mr. Goliadkin’s tirade was followed by a rather long and significant silence.

“It seems you’ve diverged slightly from the subject,” Krestyan Ivanovich said at last in a low voice. “I confess, I’m completely unable to understand you.”

“I’m no master of fine speaking, Krestyan Ivanovich; I’ve already had the honor of informing you, Krestyan Ivanovich, that I’m no master of fine speaking,” said Mr. Goliadkin, this time in a sharp and resolute tone.

“Hm…”

“Krestyan Ivanovich!” Mr. Goliadkin began again in a low but meaningful voice, partly of a solemn sort, and pausing at every point. “Krestyan Ivanovich! on coming in here, I began with apologies. I now repeat the former and again beg your indulgence for a time. I, Krestyan Ivanovich, have nothing to conceal from you. I am a little man, you know that yourself; but, to my good fortune, I do not regret that I am a little man. Even the contrary, Krestyan Ivanovich; and, to tell all, I am even proud that I am not a great man, but a little one. Not an intriguer—and I am proud of that as well. I act not on the sly, but openly, without cunning, and though I could do harm in my turn, could very well, and I even know to whom and how to do it, Krestyan Ivanovich, I do not want to besmirch myself, and in that sense I wash my hands. In that sense, I say, I wash them, Krestyan Ivanovich!” Mr. Goliadkin fell expressively silent for a moment; he had spoken with meek animation.