Vladimir Nabokov. Mademoiselle O
Vladimir Nabokov. MADEMOISELLE O
I hear the snow crunching under his felt boots while he busies himself with the luggage, the jingling harness, and then his own nose, which he cases by means of a dexterous flip of finger and thumb as he trudges back round the sleigh. Slowly, with grim misgivings, Mademoiselle climbs in, clutching at her helper in mortal fear lest the sleigh move off before her vast fo