Vladimir Nabokov. Un mal día
Vladimir Nabokov. A BAD DAY
They were now driving through the village, and somewhere from behind the fences and log cabins a wooden echo responded to the harmonious plashing of hooves. On the clayey, grass-patched side of the road peasant boys were playing gorodki—pitching stout sticks at wooden pins which resoundingly flew up in the air. Peter recognized the stuffed hawk and silvered spheres that ornamented the garden of the local grocer. A dog dashed out of a gateway, in perfect silence— storing up voice, as it were—and only after flying across the ditch, and finally overtaking the carriage, did