Vladimir Nabokov. La tormenta : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. La tormenta
Vladimir Nabokov. THE THUNDERSTORM
oed sandals, and a bright drop hung from the tip of his large, bony nose. As I brushed aside a low branch of lilac, I noticed, on a pile of rubbish, amid broken glass, a narrow-rimmed iron wheel that must have belonged to a baby carriage. The old man exhaled warm relief above my ear. Hastily, even a little brusquely, he pushed me aside, and snatched up the rusty hoop. With a joyful wink he said, "So that's where it rolled."
Then he stared at me, his white eyebrows came together in a frown, and, as if remembering something, he said in an impressive voice, "Turn away, Elisha."
I obeyed, even shutting my eyes. I stood like that for a minute or so, and then could not