Vladimir Nabokov. El Elfo Patata
"Don't," uttered Shock with difficulty. "If there was something that I... please, forgive...."
The vein in his forehead was tensed. He hunched up still more, his throat rattled, the moist lock on his brow shook, and the handkerchief at his mouth got all soaked with bile and blood.
"Stop playing the fool!" cried Nora and stamped her foot.
He managed to straighten up. His face was wax-pale. He threw the balled rag into a corner.
"Wait, Nora.... You don't understand.... This is my very last trick.... I won't do any other...."
Again a spasm distorted his terrible, shiny face. He staggered, fe