The Double

“Yes, Krestyan Ivanovich, they’ve made up some gossip. And our bear and his nephew, our little treasure, have mixed their hands in it; they’ve banded together with the old women and cooked up the business. What do you think? How have they contrived to kill a man?…”

“To kill a man?”

“Yes, Krestyan Ivanovich, to kill a man, to kill a man morally. They’ve spread…I’m still talking about my close acquaintance…”

Krestyan Ivanovich nodded his head.

“They’ve spread a rumor about him…I confess to you, I’m even ashamed to say it, Krestyan Ivanovich…”

“Hm…”

“They’ve spread a rumor that he has already signed an agreement to marry, that he’s already engaged elsewhere…And to whom do you think, Krestyan Ivanovich?”

“Really?”

“To a cookshop owner, an indecent German woman, from whom he buys his dinners; instead of paying his debts he’s offering her his hand.”

“That’s what they say?”

“Would you believe it, Krestyan Ivanovich? A German woman, a mean, vile, shameless German woman, Karolina Ivanovna, if you know…”

“I confess, for my part…”

“I understand you, Krestyan Ivanovich, I do, and for my part I feel that…”

“Tell me, please, where are you living now?”

“Where am I living now, Krestyan Ivanovich?”

“Yes…I want…before, it seems, you were living…”

“I was, Krestyan Ivanovich, I was, I was living before. How could I not have been!” replied Mr. Goliadkin, accompanying his words with a little laugh and slightly confusing Krestyan Ivanovich with his reply.

“No, you haven’t taken it the right way; I wanted for my part…”

“I also wanted, Krestyan Ivanovich, for my part, I also wanted,” Mr. Goliadkin continued, laughing. “However, Krestyan Ivanovich, I’ve sat too long with you. I hope you will now permit me…to bid you good morning…”

“Hm…”

“Yes, Krestyan Ivanovich, I understand you; I fully understand you now,” said our hero, posturing slightly before Krestyan Ivanovich. “And so, permit me to bid you good morning…”

Here our hero scraped with his foot and walked out of the room, leaving Krestyan Ivanovich in extreme astonishment. Going down the doctor’s stairs, he smiled and rubbed his hands joyfully. On the porch, breathing the fresh air and feeling himself free, he was even actually ready to acknowledge himself the happiest of mortals and then go straight to the department—when his carriage suddenly clattered up to the entrance; he looked and remembered everything. Petrushka was already opening the doors. Some strange and extremely unpleasant sensation gripped the whole of Mr. Goliadkin. He seemed to blush for a moment. Something pricked him. He was just about to place his foot on the step of the carriage when he suddenly turned and looked at Krestyan Ivanovich’s windows. That was it! Krestyan Ivanovich was standing at the window, stroking his side-whiskers with his right hand and looking at our hero with great curiosity.

“That doctor is stupid,” thought Mr. Goliadkin, hiding himself in the carriage, “extremely stupid. Maybe he treats his patients well, but all the same…he’s stupid as a log.” Mr. Goliadkin settled himself, Petrushka shouted “Gee-up!”—and the carriage again went rolling down to Nevsky Prospect.

CHAPTER III