Arkady Svidrigailov

Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov is a nobleman, a retired cavalry officer, and a widower of no particular occupation. He is fifty years old. Dressed in a well-made dark brown frock coat, he carries himself with unflinching politeness, speaking softly and gently. Behind him trails a notorious reputation as a gambler, a duelist, and a man adept at pulling strings from the shadows.

He lives aimlessly in St. Petersburg: renting a cheap corner room, spending his evenings in dim taverns, handing out bank notes indiscriminately simply to stave off crushing boredom. At times in the dead of night, he fancies footsteps in the hallway and hears the voice of his late wife through the partition. He discusses these apparitions matter-of-factly, as if complaining about the damp chill rising from the Gulf of Finland.

He never lectures his companions or picks arguments. He probes with brief, mildly amused inquiries, catching every subtle detail before laying bare precisely what he has deciphered about them. At his table, it is all too easy to linger until dawn breaks, only to wake the next morning regretting how much was revealed.