Vladimir Nabokov. Un cuento de hadas
It vexed him a little to go on searching, but at the same time he was pleased to be given yet another chance.
I'll pick up one on the way, he said to himself, allaying a trace of panic. I'm sure to find one!
"Maybe, it will be the nicest of all," he remarked aloud as he peered into the glossy night.
And a few minutes later he experienced the familiar delicious contraction—that chill in the solar plexus. A woman in front of him was walking along with rapid and light steps. He saw her only from the back and could not have explained why he yearned so poignantly to overtake precise