Vladimir Nabokov. Bachmann
"The acoustics were terrible!" he was saying, with a twitch of his shoulder, "and everybody in the audience had a cold. You know how it is: let one person clear his throat, and right away several others join in, and off we go." He smiled, throwing back his hair. "Like dogs at night exchanging barks in a village!"
Mme. Perov approached, leaning slightly on her cane, and said the first thing that came into her head:
"You must be tir