The Double by Fyodor Dostoevsky

EVERYTHING, even Nature itself, was evidently in arms against Mr Golyadkin; but he was still on his feet and undefeated; he felt that he was undefeated. He was ready to fight. When he recovered from his first consternation, he rubbed his hands together with such feeling and energy that it would have been possible to conclude from the mere sight of him that he would not yield. The danger, however, was evident and imminent; Mr Golyadkin felt that too; and how was it to be tackled, that danger? that was the question. The thought even crossed Mr Golyadkin's mind: ‘Suppose I leave it all as it is, simply give up? What then? – why, nothing. I shall stand aside, as though it had nothing to do with me,' thought Mr Golyadkin, ‘and let it all go by me; I'm not concerned, that's all. Just possibly he might step to one side, too; he'll twist and turn, the scoundrel, and make a fuss, and then he'll give up. There it is, then! I'll win by submitting. And really where's the danger in that? Why, what danger? – I'd like someone to point out to me what danger there is in all this! A trumpery affair! a very ordinary business!' Here Mr Golyadkin broke off abruptly. The words died on his tongue; he even cursed himself for the thought; he convicted himself on the spot of baseness and cowardice because of the thought; but for all that, he had not advanced an inch. He felt that to decide on some action at the present moment was an absolute necessity for him; he even felt he would have paid anybody handsomely to tell him exactly what action to decide on. How indeed could he guess right? There was, moreover, no time for guessing. In any case, so as to lose no time, he took a cab and hurried home. ‘Well, how do you feel now?' he asked himself. ‘Pray how do you feel now, Yakov Petrovich? Are you going to do something? Will you do something now, you scoundrel, you rogue? You've reached the end of your tether, and now you're beginning to snivel and whine!' So Mr Golyadkin nagged at himself, bouncing along in his cabby's jolting vehicle. Nagging at himself in this fashion, and so rubbing salt in his wounds, gave Mr Golyadkin at the present moment a kind of profound, indeed almost voluptuous satisfaction. ‘Well, if some sort of magician turned up now,' he thought, ‘or if it somehow became an official requirement, so that they said, "Cut off a finger of your right hand, Golyadkin, and you are quits; there will be no other Golyadkin, and you can be happy, only without your finger," I would give up the finger, of course I would, give it up without a murmur. Oh, the devil take the whole business!' cried the desperate Titular Councillor, ‘why had all this to happen? Well, it all had to be, just inevitably this, exactly this; it's as if nothing else could possibly happen! Everything was fine to begin with, everybody was pleased and happy; but no, this had to happen! However, you won't get anywhere with words. One must act.'

So, having almost come to a definite decision, Mr Golyadkin entered his flat, reached without a moment's delay for his pipe and, sucking at it with all his might, sending out puffs of smoke to right and left, began scurrying in extraordinary excitement backwards and forwards about his room. Meanwhile Petrushka had begun to lay the table. At last Mr Golyadkin finally made up his mind, abruptly abandoned his pipe, flung on his overcoat, told Petrushka that he would not be dining at home, and dashed out of the flat. Petrushka overtook him on the stairs, out of breath and carrying his forgotten hat. Mr Golyadkin took it and was about to say a casual word or two in the hope of justifying himself a little in Petrushka's eyes, so that he should not give the matter any particular thought – to say, ‘certain circumstances have arisen,' and ‘dear me, I forgot my hat!' and so on – but as Petrushka would not even look at him and retreated without a word, Mr Golyadkin put on his hat without more ado, ran down the stairs and, endlessly repeating to himself that perhaps it was all for the best, and that everything would somehow come out right, although, all the same, he felt a shiver run right down to his heels, emerged into the street, hired a cab, and went dashing off to Andrey Philippovich's. ‘Still, wouldn't tomorrow be better?' Mr Golyadkin wondered as he grasped the bell-pull at the door of Andrey Philippovich's flat. ‘Besides, have I anything special to say? There isn't anything special about it. It's such a paltry affair, it's really paltry, a trumpery business, well, almost trumpery. it's really just – a circumstance, like all of this. .' Mr Golyadkin tugged suddenly at the bell; the bell tinkled, and somebody's steps could be heard inside. . At this point Mr Golyadkin really cursed himself, at least for his haste and audacity. The recent unpleasantness, which Mr Golyadkin had all but forgotten in his preoccupation with his own affairs, and his difference with Andrey Philippovich, now returned to his memory. But it was too late to run away: the door had opened. Fortunately for Mr Golyadkin, he was informed that Andrey Philippovich had not returned from the office and would not be dining at home. ‘I know where he is dining: at Izmailovsky Bridge,' thought our hero, inexpressibly delighted. To the servant's question about whom to announce, he answered, ‘That's all right, my man. It will do later,' and it was even with some cheerfulness that he ran back down the stairs. Coming out into the street, he decided to let his cab go and paid off the cabby. When the man asked for something extra, because, ‘I waited a long time, sir,' and ‘I didn't spare my horse, along of you was in a hurry,' he readily gave him an extra five copecks; then he went his way on foot.