Vladimir Nabokov. La Veneciana : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. La Veneciana
Vladimir Nabokov. LA VENEZIANA
yfully mobile eyes, he accepted the yellow fruit from her hand, and, as soon as he felt its firm, roughish coolness and the dry warmth of her long fingers, an incredible bliss came to a boil within him and began deliciously burbling. Then, with a start, he looked behind him toward the window. There, along a pale path amid some rocks, walked blue silhouettes with hoods and small lanterns.
Simpson looked about the room in which he was standing, but with- out any awareness of a floor beneath his feet. In the distance, instead of a fourth wall, a far, familiar hall glimmered like water, with the black island of a table at its center. It was then that a sudden terror made him compress the col