Nezhdanov all at once flew into a perfect fury. His irritability had been growing, it seemed. . . . The solemn burning of the letter had by no means allayed it; it was only waiting for an excuse to break out.
'I have told you already that it's not wanted, not wanted . . . not wanted! I won't allow it and I won't accept it. I'll get the money, I'll get it directly. I don't need help from anyone!'
'All right, my dear fellow,' observed Paklin. 'I see, though you are a revolutionist, you 're not a democrat!'
'Say at once that I'm an aristocrat!'
'Well, you are an aristocrat, really . . . to a certain degree.'
Nezhdanov gave a forced laugh.
'So you mean to hint at my being an illegitimate son. You needn't trouble, my kind friend. . . . Without your aid, I'm not likely to forget that.'
Paklin flung up his arms in despair.
'Alyosha, upon my word, what is the matter with you? How could you take my words like that! I don't know you to-day.' Nezhdanov made an impatient gesture of the head and shoulders. 'Basanov's arrest has upset you, but, you know, he used to behave so imprudently———'
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