Vladimir Nabokov. La Veneciana
Vladimir Nabokov. LA VENEZIANA
He rose with a feeble smile and, forgetting his racquet on the bench, went toward the house. It was time to dress for dinner.
3: "It's hot with this fur on, though! No, Colonel, it's only cat. It's true my Venetian rival wore something more expensive. But the color is the same, isn't it? A perfect likeness, in short."
"If I dared I'd coat you with varnish, and send Luciani's canvas up to the attic," courteously countered the Colonel, who, in spite of his strict principles, was not averse to challenging a lady as attractive as Maureen to a flirtatious verbal duel.
"I would split with laughter," she parried.
"I fear, Mrs. McGore,