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. Golyadkin was silent: his chin began twitching a little. "Well?" "I thought it was chivalrous, your Excellency . . . 'There's something chivalrous in it,' I said, and I look upon my superior as a father . . . this is what I thought; 'protect me, I tear . . . earfully . . . b . . . eg and that such imp . . . impulses ought . . . to . . . be encouraged . . ." His excellency turned away, our hero for some minutes could distinguish nothing. There was a weight on his chest. His breathing was laboured; he did not know where he was standing . . . He felt ashamed and sad. God knows what followed. . . Recovering himself, our hero noticed that his Excellency was talking with his guests, and seemed to be briskly and emphatically discussing something with them. One of the visitors Mr. Golyadkin recognized at once. This was Andrey Filippovitch; he knew no one else; yet there was another person that seemed familiar - a tall, thick-set figure, middle-aged, possessed of very thick eyebrows and whiskers and a significant sharp expression. On his chest was an order and in his mouth a cigar. This gentleman was smoking and nodding significantly without taking the cigar out of his mouth, glancing from time to time at Mr. Golyadkin. Mr. Golyadkin felt awkward; he turned away his eyes and immediately saw another very strange visitor. Through a door which our hero had taken for a looking-glass, just as he had done once before - he made his appearance - we know who: a very intimate friend and acquaintance of Mr. Golyadkin's. Mr. Golyadkin junior had actually been till then in a little room close by, hurriedly writing something; now, apparently, he was needed - and he came in with papers under his arm, went up to his Excellency, and while waiting for exclusive attention to be paid him succeeded very adroitly in putting his spoke into the talk and consultation, taking his place a little behind Andrey Filippovitch's back and partly screening him from the gentleman smoking the cigar. Apparently Mr. Golyadkin junior took an intense interest in the conversation, to which he was listening now in a gentlemanly way, nodding his head, fidgeting with his feet, smiling, continually looking at his Excellency - as it were beseeching him with his eyes to let him put his word in. "The scoundrel," thought Mr. Golyadkin, and involuntarily he took a step forward. At this moment his Excellency turned round and came rather hesitatingly towards Mr. Golyadkin. "Well, that's all right, that's all right; well, run along, now. I'll look into your case, and give orders for you to be taken . . ." At this point his Excellency glanced at the gentleman with the thick whiskers. The latter nodded in assent. Mr. Golyadkin felt and distinctly understood that they were taking him for something different and not looking at him in the proper light at all. "In one way or another I must explain myself," he thought; "I must say, 'This is how it is, your Excellency.'" At this point in his perplexity he dropped his eyes to the floor and to his great astonishment he saw a good-sized patch of something white on his Excellency's boots. "Can there be a hole in them?" thought Mr. Golyadkin. Mr. Golyadkin was, however, soon convinced that his Excellency's boots were not split, but were only shining brilliantly - a phenomenon fully explained by the fact that they were patent leather and highly polished. "It is what they call blick," thought our hero; "the term is used particularly in artists studios; in other places such a reflected light is called a rib of light." At this point Mr. Golyadkin raised his eyes and saw that the time had come to speak, for things might easily end badly . . . Our hero took a step forward. "I say this is how it is, your Excellency," he said, "and there's no accepting imposters nowadays." His Excellency made no answer, but rang the bell violently. Our hero took another step forward. "He is a vile, vicious man, your Excellency," said our hero, beside himself and faint with terror, though he still pointed boldly and resolutely at his unworthy twin, who was fidgeting about near his Excellency. "I say this is how it is, and I am alluding to a well-known person." There was a general sensation at Mr. Golyadkin's words. Andrey Filippovitch and the gentleman with the cigar nodded their heads; his Excellency impatiently tugged at the bell to summon the servants. At this point Mr. Golyadkin junior came forward in his turn. "Your Excellency," he said, "I humbly beg permission to speak." There was something very resolute in Mr. Golyadkin junior's voice; everything showed that he felt himself completely in the right. "Allow me to ask you," he began again, anticipating his Excellency's reply in his eagerness, and this time addressing Mr. Golyadkin; "allow me to ask you, in whose presence you are making this explanation? Before whom are you standing, in whose room are you? . . ." Mr. Golyadkin junior was in a state of extraordinary excitement, flushed and glowing with wrath and indignation; there were positively tears in his eyes. A lackey, appearing in the doorway, roared at the top of his voice the name of some new arrivals, the Bassavryukovs. "A good aristocratic name, hailing from Little Russia," thought Mr. Golyadkin, and at that moment he felt some one lay a very friendly hand on his back, then a second hand was laid on his back. Mr. Golyadkin's infamous twin was tripping about in front leading the way; and our hero saw clearly that he was being led to the big doors of the room. "Just as it was at Olsufy Ivanovitch's," he thought, and he found himself in the hall. Looking round, he saw beside him two of the Excellency's lackeys and his twin. "The greatcoat, the greatcoat, the greatcoat, the greatcoat, my friend! The greatcoat of my best friend!" whispered the depraved man, snatching the coat from one of the servants, and by way of a nasty and ungentlemanly joke flinging it straight at Mr. Golyadkin's head. Extricating himself from under his coat, Mr. Golyadkin distinctly heard the two lackeys snigger. But without listening to anything, or paying attention to it, he went out of the hall and found himself on the lighted stairs. Mr. Golyadkin junior following him. "Goodbye, your Excellency!" he shouted after Mr. Golyadkin senior. "Scoundrel!" our hero exclaimed, beside himself. "Well, scoundrel, then . . ." "Depraved man! . . ." "Well, depraved man, then . . ." answered Mr. Golyadkin's unworthy enemy, and with his characteristic baseness he looked down from the top of the stairs straight into Mr. Golyadkin's face as though begging him to go on. Our hero spat with indignation and ran out of the front door; he was so shattered, so crushed, that he had no recollection of how he got into the cab or who helped him in. Coming to himself, he found that he was being driven to Fontanka. "To Ismailovsky Bridge, then," thought Mr. Golyadkin. At this point Mr. Golyadkin tried to think of something else, but could not; there was something so terrible that he could not explain it . . . "Well, never mind," our hero concluded, and he drove to Ismailovsky Bridge.