Vladimir Nabokov. La Veneciana
Vladimir Nabokov. LA VENEZIANA
It should again be emphasized, however, that Simpson, unaccustomed as he was to the contemplation of artwork, of course could not fully appreciate the mastery of Sebastiano del Piombo, and the one thing that fascinated him—apart, of course, from the purely physiological effect of the splendid colors on his optic nerves—was the resemblance he had immediately noticed, even though he was seeing Maureen for the first time. And the remarkable thing was that the Vcneziana's face—the sleek forehead, bathed, as it were, in the recondite gloss of some olivaster moon, the to