The Double

“I walk, Krestyan Ivanovich,” our hero began to go on, “straight ahead, openly, and without twisting paths, because I despise them and leave them to others. I do not try to humiliate those who have gone one better than you and I…that is, I mean to say them and I, Krestyan Ivanovich, I didn’t mean to say you. I dislike half-utterances; petty duplicity is not in favor with me; I scorn slander and gossip. I put on a mask only for masked balls, and do not go around in it before people every day. I will only ask you, Krestyan Ivanovich, how would you go about taking revenge on your enemy, your worst enemy—someone you consider as such?” Mr. Goliadkin concluded, casting a defiant glance at Krestyan Ivanovich.

Though Mr. Goliadkin had spoken it all with the utmost distinctness, clarity, and assurance, weighing his words and calculating their surest effect, nevertheless it was with uneasiness, with great uneasiness, with extreme uneasiness, that he now looked at Krestyan Ivanovich. Now he became all eyes, and timidly, with vexing, anxious impatience, awaited Krestyan Ivanovich’s response. But, to the amazement and total shock of Mr. Goliadkin, Krestyan Ivanovich muttered something to himself under his nose; then he moved his chair to the desk and rather dryly, though courteously, announced to him that his time was precious, that he somehow did not quite understand, or something of the sort; that, though he was ready to be of any possible service, as far as he could, he would leave aside all the rest, which did not concern him. Here he took a pen, drew a piece of paper towards him, cut a piece from it for a doctor’s form, and announced that he would at once prescribe what was proper.

“No, sir, not proper, Krestyan Ivanovich! No, sir, that is by no means proper!” said Mr. Goliadkin, getting up from his place and seizing Krestyan Ivanovich by the right hand. “That, Krestyan Ivanovich, is by no means needed here…”

But while Mr. Goliadkin was saying all this, a strange transformation was taking place in him. His gray eyes gleamed somehow strangely, his lips trembled, all the muscles, all the features of his face began to move, to twitch. He was shaking all over. Having followed his first impulse and stopped Krestyan Ivanovich’s hand, Mr. Goliadkin now stood motionless, as if not trusting himself and awaiting the inspiration for further actions.

Then a rather strange scene took place.

Slightly perplexed, Krestyan Ivanovich sat momentarily as if rooted to his chair and, feeling at a loss, stared all eyes at Mr. Goliadkin, who was staring at him in the same way. Finally Krestyan Ivanovich stood up, holding on slightly to the lapel of Mr. Goliadkin’s uniform jacket. For a few seconds the two men stood thus, motionless and not taking their eyes off each other. Then, however, in an extraordinarily strange way, Mr. Goliadkin’s second movement resolved itself. His lips trembled, his chin quivered, and our hero quite unexpectedly burst into tears. Sobbing, wagging his head, and beating himself on the breast with his right hand, and with his left also seizing the lapel of Krestyan Ivanovich’s lounging jacket, he wanted to speak and immediately explain something, but was unable to say a word. Krestyan Ivanovich finally recovered from his astonishment.

“Come, calm yourself, sit down!” he said finally, trying to sit Mr. Goliadkin in an armchair.

“I have enemies, Krestyan Ivanovich, I have enemies; I have wicked enemies who have sworn to destroy me…” Mr. Goliadkin replied timorously and in a whisper.

“Come, come, what’s this about enemies! There’s no need to mention enemies, absolutely no need! Sit down, sit down,” Krestyan Ivanovich went on, definitively sitting Mr. Goliadkin in the armchair.

Mr. Goliadkin finally sat down, not taking his eyes from Krestyan Ivanovich. Krestyan Ivanovich, looking extremely displeased, began to pace up and down his office. A long silence ensued.

“I’m grateful to you, Krestyan Ivanovich, quite grateful and quite sensible of all you’ve now done for me. To my dying day I will not forget your kindness, Krestyan Ivanovich,” Mr. Goliadkin said finally, getting up from his chair with an offended look.

“Come, come, I tell you, enough!” Krestyan Ivanovich responded rather sternly to Mr. Goliadkin’s outburst, sitting him down again. “Well, what is it? Tell me, what’s this unpleasantness you have there,” Krestyan Ivanovich went on, “and what enemies are you talking about? What is it with you there?”