Vladimir Nabokov. Bachmann
He bowed, very flattered.
"That's a little mistake, madame. The name is Sack. I am only the impresario of our Maestro."
All three ladies laughed. Mme. Perov lost countenance, but laughed too. She knew about Bachmann's amazing playing only from hearsay, and had never seen a picture of him. At that moment the hostess surged toward her, embraced her, and with a mere motion of the eyes as if imparting a secret, indicated the far end of the room, whispering, "There he is—look."
Only then did she see Bachmann. He was standing a little away from the other guests. His short legs in baggy black trousers were set wide apart