‘I put my fate in your hands, in the hands of my superiors’; saying, ‘Your Excellency, be a protector and a benefactor’; and then I’ll say this and that, and explain how it is and that it is an unlawful act; ‘Do not destroy me, I look upon you as my father, do not abandon me … save my dignity, my honour, my name, my reputation … and save me from a miscreant, a vicious man.
… He’s another person, your Excellency, and I’m another person too; he’s apart and I am myself by myself too; I am really myself by myself, your Excellency; really myself by myself,’ that’s what I shall say. ‘I cannot be like him. Change him, dismiss him, give orders for him to be changed and a godless, licentious impersonation to be suppressed … that it may not be an example to others, your Excellency. I look upon you as a father’; those in authority over us, our benefactors and protectors, are bound, of course, to encourage such impulses… . There’s something chivalrous about it: I shall say, ‘I look upon you, my benefactor and superior, as a father, and trust my fate to you, and I will not say anything against it; I put myself in your hands, and retire from the affair myself’ … that’s what I would say.”
“Well, my man, are you a cabman?”
“Yes …”
“I want a cab for the evening …”
“And does your honour want to go far?”
“For the evening, for the evening; wherever I have to go, my man, wherever I have to go.”
“Does your honour want to drive out of town?”
“Yes, my friend, out of town, perhaps. I don’t quite know myself yet, I can’t tell you for certain, my man. Maybe you see it will all be settled for the best. We all know, my friend …”
“Yes, sir, of course we all know. Please God it may.”
“Yes, my friend, yes; thank you, my dear fellow; come, what’s your fare, my good man? …”
“Do you want to set off at once?”
“Yes, at once, that is, no, you must wait at a certain place… . A little while, not long, you’ll have to wait… .”
“Well, if you hire me for the whole time, I couldn’t ask less than six roubles for weather like this …”
“Oh, very well, my friend; and I thank you, my dear fellow. So, come, you can take me now, my good man.”
“Get in; allow me, I’ll put it straight a bit - now will your honour get in. Where shall I drive?”
“To the Ismailovsky Bridge, my friend.”
The driver plumped down on the box, with difficulty roused his pair of lean nags from the trough of hay, and was setting off for Ismailovsky Bridge. But suddenly Mr. Golyadkin pulled the cord, stopped the cab, and besought him in an imploring voice not to drive to Ismailovsky Bridge, but to turn back to another street. The driver turned into another street, and then minutes later Mr. Golyadkin’s newly hired equipage was standing before the house in which his Excellency had a flat. Mr. Golyadkin got out of the carriage, begged the driver to be sure to wait and with a sinking heart ran upstairs to the third storey and pulled the bell; the door was opened and our hero found himself in the entry of his Excellency’s flat.
“Is his Excellency graciously pleased to be at home?” said Mr. Golyadkin, addressing the man who opened the door.
“What do you want?” asked the servant, scrutinizing Mr. Golyadkin from head to foot.
“I, my friend … I am Golyadkin, the titular councillor, Golyadkin … To say … something or other … to explain …”
“You must wait; you cannot …”
“My friend, I cannot wait; my business is important, it’s business that admits of no delay …”
“But from whom have you come? Have you brought papers?…”
“No, my friend, I am on my own account. Announce me, my friend, say something or other, explain. I’ll reward you, my good man …”
“I cannot. His Excellency is not at home, he has visitors. Come at ten o’clock in the morning …”
“Take in my name, my good man, I can’t wait - it is impossible… . You’ll have to answer for it, my good man.”
“Why, go and announce him! What’s the matter with you; want to save your shoe leather?” said another lackey who was lolling on the bench and had not uttered a word till then.
“Shoe leather! I was told not to show any one up, you know; their time is the morning.”
“Announce him, have you lost your tongue?”
“I’ll announce him all right - I’ve not lost my tongue. It’s not my orders; I’ve told you, it’s not my orders. Walk inside.”
Mr. Golyadkin went into the outermost room; there was a clock on the table. He glanced at it: it was half-past eight. His heart ached within him. Already he wanted to turn back, but at that very moment the footman standing at the door of the next room had already boomed out Mr. Golyadkin’s name.
“Oh, what lungs,” thought our hero in indescribable misery. “Why, you ought to have said: ‘he has come most humbly and meekly to make an explanation … something … be graciously pleased to see him’ … Now the whole business is ruined; all my hopes are scattered to the winds. But … however … never mind …”
There was no time to think, moreover. The lackey, returning, said, “Please walk in,” and led Mr. Golyadkin into the study.
When our hero went in, he felt as though he were blinded, for he could see nothing at all … But three or four figures seemed flitting before his eyes: “Oh, yes, they are the visitors,” flashed through Mr. Golyadkin’s mind. At last our hero could distinguish clearly the star on the black coat of his Excellency, then by degrees advanced to seeing the black coat and at last gained the power of complete vision… .
“What is it?” said a familiar voice above Mr. Golyadkin.
“The titular councillor, Golyadkin, your Excellency.”
“Well?”
“I have come to make an explanation …”
“How? … What?”
“Why, yes. This is how it is. I’ve come for an explanation, your Excellency …”
“But you … but who are you? …”
“M-m-m-mist-er Golyadkin, your Excellency, a titular councillor.”
“Well, what is it you want?”
“Why, this is how it is, I look upon you as a father; I retire … defend me from my enemy! …”
“What’s this? …”
“We all know …”
“What do we all know?”
Mr.
