Nezhdanov bounded up on the bed, as though some force were tossing him upwards.
'What more would you have going wrong? he shouted, his voice suddenly growing loud. 'Half Russia's dying of hunger. The Moscow Gazette's triumphant; they're going to introduce classicism; the students' benefit clubs are prohibited; everywhere there's spying, persecution, betrayal, lying, and treachery we can't advance a step in any direction . . . and all that's not enough for him he looks for something fresh to go wrong, he thinks I'm joking. . . . Basanov's arrested,' he added, dropping his voice a little; 'they told me at the library.'
Ostrodumov and Mashurina both at once raised their heads.
'My dear fellow, Alexey Dmitrievitch,' began Paklin, 'you are excited─no wonder. . .. But had you forgotten what an age and what a country we live in? Why, among us a drowning man has to make for himself the very straw he's to clutch at! What's the good of being sentimental over it? One must face the worst, my dear fellow, and not fly into a rage, like a baby———'
'Ah, don't, please!' Nezhdanov interrupted fretfully, and his face worked as if he were in pain. 'You, we all know, are a man of energy, you 're afraid of nothing and nobody———'
16
