Vladimir Nabokov. El Elfo Patata
"I'm not going to eat here," said he, examining curiously the crown of the dwarfs head. "I don't care for this place."
Sulky and silent, Fred was eating a baked apple.
The conjuror quietly left. The restaurant emptied. The languorous Spanish dancer in the large hat was led off by a shy, exquisitely dressed young man with blue eyes.
Well, if he doesn't want to listen, that settles it, reflected the dwarf; he sighed with relief and decided that after all Nora would explain things better. Then he asked for notepaper and proceeded to write her a letter. It closed as follows:
Now you un