The Double

“The affair, in truth, is such,” thought Mr. Goliadkin, “that it cannot possibly be left like this; though, if you reason that way, if you reason sensibly, why should I really fuss over it? Well, no, however, I’ll keep talking about it, why should I fuss? why should I wear myself out, thrash about, suffer, kill myself? First of all, the deed is done, there’s no going back…no going back! Let’s reason this way: a man appears, a man appears with a satisfactory recommendation, say, a capable clerk, of good behavior, only he’s poor and has suffered various unpleasant-nesses—all those bad scrapes—well, but poverty’s no vice; which means, I’m outside it. Well, in fact, what is this nonsense? Well, it so happens, it’s so arranged, nature itself has so arranged it that a man resembles another man like two drops of water, that he’s a perfect copy of another man: should he not be taken into the department because of that?! If fate, if fate alone, if blind fortune alone is to blame here—should he be dirtied like an old rag, should he not be allowed to work…where will there be any justice after that? He’s a poor man, lost, intimidated; there’s heartache here, there’s compassion here telling us to show him kindness! Yes, indeed, they’d be fine superiors if they reasoned the way I do, dunderhead that I am! What a noddle I’ve got! Enough stupidity for ten sometimes! No, no! they did well, and should be thanked for sheltering the poor wretch…Well, so, suppose, for example, that we’re twins, that we were born like that, twin brothers, and that’s all—that’s the way it is! Well, what of it? Well, it’s nothing! It’s possible to get all the clerks accustomed to it…and some stranger, coming into our offices, would surely find nothing indecent or insulting in this circumstance. There’s even something touching here; that here, say, there’s such a thought: that, say, God’s design created two perfect likenesses, and our beneficent superiors, seeing God’s design, gave shelter to both twins. Of course,” Mr. Goliadkin went on, catching his breath and lowering his voice slightly, “of course…of course, it would be better if none of these touching things existed, and there were also no twins…Devil take it all! Who needed it? And what was this need that was so special and would suffer no postponement?! Lord God! A nice kettle of fish the devil’s cooked up! See, though, what a character he has, what a playful, nasty temper—what a scoundrel he is, what a fidget, a smoocher, a lickspittle, what a Goliadkin! For all I know, he may behave badly and besmirch my name, the blackguard. And now I have to look at him and take care of him! What a punishment! However, what then? well, who cares! Well, he’s a scoundrel—well, let him be a scoundrel, but the other will be honest. Well, so he’ll be a scoundrel, but I’ll be honest—and they’ll say, that Goliadkin’s a scoundrel, don’t look at him, and don’t confuse him with the other one; but this one’s honest, virtuous, meek, unresentful, highly reliable at work, and deserves to be promoted—so there! Well, all right…but what if sort of…But what if they sort of…mix us up! You can expect anything from him! Ah, Lord God!…And he’ll supplant a man, supplant him, the scoundrel—he’ll supplant a man like an old rag and never consider that a man is not an old rag. Ah, Lord God! What a misfortune!…”