JК
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight :: Набоков Владимир Владимирович
Страница: 103 из 124Would I return tonight? How was it, that breathless phrase in that second-rate Maupassant story: 'I have forgotten a book.' But I was forgetting mine too.
'So that's where you are,' said Madame Lecerf's voice. 'I thought perhaps you had gone home.'
'Well, is everything all right?'
'Far from it,' she answered calmly. 'I have no idea what you wrote, but she thought it referred to a film affair she's trying to arrange. She says you've entrapped her. Now you'll do what I tell you. You won't speak to her today or tomorrow or the day after. But you'll stay here and be very nice to her. And she has promised to tell me everything, and afterwards perhaps you may talk to her. Is that a bargain?'
'It's really awfully good of you to take all this trouble,' I' laid.
She sat down on the bench beside me, and as the bench was very short and I am rather – well – on the sturdy side – her shoulder touched mine. I moistened my lips with my tongue and scrawled lines on the ground with the stick I was holding.
'What are you trying to draw?' she asked and then cleared' her throat.
'My thought-waves,' I answered foolishly.
'Once upon a time,' she said softly, 'I kissed a man just because he could write his name upside down.'
The stick dropped from my hand. I stared at Madame Lecerf. I stared at her smooth white brow, I saw her violet dark eyelids, which she had lowered, possibly mistaking my stare – saw a tiny pale birth-mark on the pale cheek, the delicate wings of her nose, the pucker of her upper lip, as she bent her dark head, the dull whiteness of her throat, the lacquered rose-red nails of her thin fingers. She lifted her face, her queer velvety eyes with that iris placed slightly higher than usual, looked at my lips.
I got up.
'What's the matter,' she said, 'what are you thinking about?'
I shook my head. But she was right. I was thinking of something now – something that had to be solved, at once…
'Why, are we going in?' she asked as we moved up the path.
I nodded.
'But she won't be down before another minute, you know. Tell me why are you sulking?'
I think I stopped and stared at her again, this time at her I slim little figure in that buff, close-fitting frock.
I moved on, brooding heavily, and the sun-dappled path seemed to frown back at me.
'Vous n'кtes guиre amiable,' said Madame Lecerf.
There was a table and several chairs on the terrace. The silent blond person whom I had seen at lunch was sitting there examining the works of his watch.
'So that's where you are,' said Madame Lecerf's voice. 'I thought perhaps you had gone home.'
'Well, is everything all right?'
'Far from it,' she answered calmly. 'I have no idea what you wrote, but she thought it referred to a film affair she's trying to arrange. She says you've entrapped her. Now you'll do what I tell you. You won't speak to her today or tomorrow or the day after. But you'll stay here and be very nice to her. And she has promised to tell me everything, and afterwards perhaps you may talk to her. Is that a bargain?'
'It's really awfully good of you to take all this trouble,' I' laid.
She sat down on the bench beside me, and as the bench was very short and I am rather – well – on the sturdy side – her shoulder touched mine. I moistened my lips with my tongue and scrawled lines on the ground with the stick I was holding.
'What are you trying to draw?' she asked and then cleared' her throat.
'My thought-waves,' I answered foolishly.
'Once upon a time,' she said softly, 'I kissed a man just because he could write his name upside down.'
The stick dropped from my hand. I stared at Madame Lecerf. I stared at her smooth white brow, I saw her violet dark eyelids, which she had lowered, possibly mistaking my stare – saw a tiny pale birth-mark on the pale cheek, the delicate wings of her nose, the pucker of her upper lip, as she bent her dark head, the dull whiteness of her throat, the lacquered rose-red nails of her thin fingers. She lifted her face, her queer velvety eyes with that iris placed slightly higher than usual, looked at my lips.
I got up.
'What's the matter,' she said, 'what are you thinking about?'
I shook my head. But she was right. I was thinking of something now – something that had to be solved, at once…
'Why, are we going in?' she asked as we moved up the path.
I nodded.
'But she won't be down before another minute, you know. Tell me why are you sulking?'
I think I stopped and stared at her again, this time at her I slim little figure in that buff, close-fitting frock.
I moved on, brooding heavily, and the sun-dappled path seemed to frown back at me.
'Vous n'кtes guиre amiable,' said Madame Lecerf.
There was a table and several chairs on the terrace. The silent blond person whom I had seen at lunch was sitting there examining the works of his watch.