Vladimir Nabokov. El Leonardo
Vladimir Nabokov. THE LEONARDO
And the neighbors entered, avidly looking around. A stump of sau sage lay on the table next to an uneven pile of books; one of them was opened on a picture of ships with numerous sails and, flying above, in one corner, an infant with puffed-out cheeks.
"Let's get acquainted," rumbled the brothers. "Folks live side by side, one can say, but never meet somehow or other."
The top of the commode was shared by an alcohol burner and an orange.
"Delighted," said Romantovski softly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and with bent forehead, its V-vein inflamed, started to lace his shoes.
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