Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de honor
Anton Petrovich mechanically lowered his little suitcase to the floor, without taking his eyes off Berg, who tilted up his impassive face, flipped back a bright length of tie, and passed it through the knot. "Above all, don't get excited," said Berg, carefully tightening the knot. Tlease don't get excited. Stay perfectly calm."
Must do something, Anton Petrovich thought, but what? He felt a tremor in his legs, an absence of legs—only that cold, aching tremor. Do something quick....