“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
MR. GOLIADKIN SPENT that whole morning in an awful bustle. On reaching Nevsky Prospect, our hero ordered the carriage to stop at the Gostiniy Dvor.{5} Jumping out of his carriage, he ran in under the arcade, accompanied by Petrushka, and went straight to a silver- and goldsmith’s shop. One could see merely by the look of Mr. Goliadkin that he was all aflutter and had an awful heap of things to do. Having agreed on a price of fifteen hundred in banknotes for a full dinner and tea service, and bargained his way into a whimsically shaped cigar box and a full silver shaving kit for the same price, having inquired, finally, about the price of certain other little objects, useful and agreeable in their way, Mr. Goliadkin ended by promising to stop by for his purchases without fail the next day or even send for them that same day, took the number of the shop, listened attentively to the merchant, who was fussing about a little deposit, and promised to give him a little deposit in due time. After which he hastily took leave of the bewildered merchant and went down the arcade pursued by a whole flock of salesclerks, constantly looking back at Petrushka, and painstakingly searching for some other shop. On the way he dashed into a moneychanger’s shop and broke all his big notes into smaller ones, and though he lost in the exchange, he broke them all the same, and his wallet grew significantly fatter, which apparently afforded him great pleasure. Finally, he stopped at a store selling various ladies’ fabrics. Again negotiating purchases for a significant sum, Mr. Goliadkin, here as well, promised the merchant to stop by without fail, took the number of the shop, and, to the question about a little deposit, again repeated that there would be a little deposit in due time. Then he visited several other shops; in all of them he bargained, asked the price of various objects, sometimes argued for a long time with the merchants, left the shop and came back three times—in short, manifested an extraordinary activity. From the Gostiniy Dvor, our hero went to a well-known furniture store, where he arranged a deal on furniture for six rooms, admired a fashionable and very whimsical lady’s toilet table in the latest taste and, having assured the merchant that he would send for it all without fail, left the store, as was his custom, with the promise of a little deposit, then went elsewhere and bargained for other things. In short, there was apparently no end to his bustling. Finally, it seems, Mr. Goliadkin himself began to grow quite bored with it all. He even, and God knows by what chance, began, out of the blue, to suffer pangs of conscience. Not for anything would he now have agreed to meet, for example, Andrei Filippovich, or even Krestyan Ivanovich. Finally, the town clock struck three in the afternoon. When Mr. Goliadkin definitively settled in his carriage, of all the purchases he had made that morning, there actually turned out to be only one pair of gloves and a flask of scent for a rouble and a half in banknotes. Since it was still early for Mr. Goliadkin, he ordered his coachman to stop at a famous restaurant on Nevsky Prospect, of which he had previously only heard, got out of the carriage, and ran to have a bite to eat, to rest, and while away some time.
Having nibbled as a man nibbles when he is looking forward to a sumptuous dinner party, that is, taken a little something to appease his tapeworm, as they say, and drunk a little glass of vodka, Mr. Goliadkin settled into an armchair and, modestly glancing around, peacefully affixed himself to a skinny government newspaper. After reading a couple of lines, he got up, looked in the mirror, straightened and smoothed himself out; then he went over to the window to see if his carriage was there…then sat down again and took the newspaper. It was noticeable that our hero was in extreme agitation. Having glanced at his watch and seen that it was only a quarter past four, and that consequently there was still quite a while to wait, and at the same time considering it improper just to sit like that, Mr. Goliadkin ordered hot chocolate, for which, however, he felt no great desire at the present moment. Having drunk the hot chocolate and noticed that the time had advanced a little, he went to pay. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned and saw his two colleagues before him, the same ones he had met that morning on Liteinaya—still quite young fellows in both age and rank. Our hero was neither here nor there with them, neither friends nor outright enemies. Naturally, decency was observed on both sides; but there was no further closeness, and there could not be. Meeting them at the present moment was extremely unpleasant for Mr. Goliadkin. He winced slightly and was momentarily confused.
“Yakov Petrovich, Yakov Petrovich!” the two registrars{6} chirped, “you here? On what…”
“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
