Vladimir Nabokov. Nube, castillo, lago
Vladimir Nabokov. CLOUD, CASTLE, LAKE
Swept along a forest road as in a hideous fairy tale, squeezed, twisted, Vasiliy Ivanovich could not even turn around, and only felt how the radiance behind his back receded, fractured by trees, and then it was no longer there, and all around the dark firs fretted but could not interfere. As soon as everyone had got into the car and the train h.\d pulled off, they began to beat him—they beat him a long time, and with a good deal of inventiveness. It occurred to them, among other things