Vladimir Nabokov. Mademoiselle O : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Mademoiselle O
Vladimir Nabokov. MADEMOISELLE O
ed boat. He could not do it. The heavy, impotent flapping of his wings, their slippery sound against the rocking and plashing boat, the gluey glistening of the dark swell where it caught the light—all seemed for a moment laden with that strange sig-nificance which sometimes in dreams is attached to a finger pressed to mute lips and then pointed at something the dreamer has no time to distinguish before waking with a start. But although I soon forgot that dismal night, it was, oddly enough, that night, that compound image—shudder and swan and swell—which first came to my mind when a couple of years later I learned that Mademoiselle had died.
She had spent all her life in feeling miserable