Vladimir Nabokov. Mademoiselle O : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Mademoiselle O
Vladimir Nabokov. MADEMOISELLE O
cared anything about them. Thinking that someone had referred to music, "But Silence, too, may be beautiful," she would bubble "Why, one evening, in a desolate valley of the Alps, I actually heard Silence." Sallies like these, especially when growing deafness led her to answer questions none had put, resulted in a painful hush, instead of touching off the rockets of a sprightly causerie.
And, really, her French was so lovely! Ought one to have minded the shallowness of her culture, the bitterness of her temper, the banal ity of her mind, when that pearly language of hers purled and scintil lated, as innocent of sense as the alliterative sins of Racine's pious ver