Vladimir Nabokov. Aureliana
Now the window contained, apart from penholders, mainly showy insects, popular stars among butterflies, some of them set on plaster and framed—intended merely for ornamenting the home. In the shop itself, permeated with the pungent odor of a disinfectant, the real, the precious collections were kept. The whole place was littered with various cases, cartons, cigar boxes. Tall cabinets contained numerous glass-lidded drawers filled with ordered series of perfect specimens im-peccably spread and labeled. A dusty old shield or something (last remnant of the original wares) stood in a dark corner. Now and then live sto