'Then what do you say's to be done?' Nezhdanov repeated almost with a shriek. 'Write novels with a "tendency," or what?'
Paklin flung wide his arms and bent his head towards his left shoulder.
'Novels, in any case, you could write, since you have a literary turn. . . . There, don't be angry, I won't! I know you don't like one to refer to it; besides, I agree with you: spinning out that sort of work with "padding" and all the new-fangled phrases too: "'Ah! I love you!' she bounded. . . . 'It's nothing to me,' he grated." It is anything but a lively job. That's why I repeat, form ties with all classes, from the highest downwards! We musn't rest all our hopes on fellows like Ostrodumov! They're honest, excellent fellows, but then they're dense! dense! Just look at our worthy friend. Why, the very soles of his boots aren't what clever people wear! Why, what made him go away from here just now? He didn't like to remain in the same room, to breathe the same air, as an aristocrat!'
'I must ask you not to speak slightingly of Ostrodumov before me,' Nezhdanov interposed emphatically. 'He wears thick boots because they 're cheaper.'
'I did not mean———' Paklin was beginning.
'If he doesn't care to remain in the same room
40
