Vladimir Nabokov. Batir de alas
He rose, trying to conceal his unbearable tremor, and, seeing no one, went out of the room.
"What's happening to me," he questioned his anguish. "What's going on here?"
He kicked his suitcase open and started packing. He immediately felt dizzy. He stopped and again began pacing the room. Angrily he stuffed his short pipe. He sat down in the armchair by the window, beyond which the snow was falling with nauseating regularity.
He had come t