Vladimir Nabokov. Lik
Vladimir Nabokov. LIK
"Oh, no. Wait just a minute. I understand a few things myself. You're a strange fellow.... Come on, make me an offer of some kind.... Try! Maybe you'll shower me with gold after all, eh? Listen, you know what? I'll sell you a gun—it'll be very useful to you on the stage: bang, and down goes the hero. It's not even worth a hundred francs, but I need more than a hundred—I'll let you have it for a thousand. Want it?"
"No, I don't," said Lik listlessly. "And I really have no money. I've been through it all myself, the hunger and so forth.... No, I won't have any more, I feel sick."
"You keep drinking, you s