Vladimir Nabokov. El reencuentro
Vladimir Nabokov. THE REUNION
With an exaggerated sigh of relief he sat down in an armchair.
"There'll be some tea ready in a minute," Lev said in a bustling tone as he fussed with a spirit lamp on the sink.
"Foul weather," said Serafim, rubbing his palms together. Actually it was rather warm out.
The alcohol went into a copper sphere; when you turned a thumbscrew it oozed into a black groove. You had to release a tiny amount, turn the screw shut, and light a match. A soft, yellowish flame would appear, floating in the groove, then gradually die, whereupon you opened the valve again, and, with a lou