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The Real Life of Sebastian Knight :: Набоков Владимир Владимирович
Страница: 122 из 124' I began, but he shook his head and turned the pages of a ledger on his desk.
'No,' he growled, 'the English Monsieur is not dead. K, K, K….'
'K, n, i, g…' I began once again.
'C'est bon, c'est bon,' he interrupted. 'K, n, K, g… n… I'm not an idiot, you know. Number thirty-six.'
He rang the bell and sank back in his armchair with a yawn. I paced up and down the room in a tremor of uncontrollable impatience. At last a nurse entered and the night-porter pointed at me.
'Number thirty-six,' he said to the nurse.
I followed her down a white passage and up a short flight of stairs. 'How is he?' I could not help asking.
'I don't know,' she said and led me to a second nurse who was sitting at the end of another white passage, the exact copy of the first, and reading a book at a little table.
'A visitor for number thirty-six,' said my guide and slipped away.
'But the English Monsieur is asleep,' said the nurse, a round-faced young woman, with a very small and very shiny nose.
'Is he better?' I asked. 'You see, I'm his brother, and I got a telegram….'
'I think he's a little better,' said the nurse with a smile, which was to me the loveliest smile I could have ever imagined.
'He had a very, very bad heart attack yesterday morning. Now he is asleep.'
'Look here,' I said, handing her a ten or twenty franc coin. 'I'll come tomorrow again, but I'd like to go into his room and wait for a minute there.'
'Oh, but you shouldn't wake him,' she said, smiling again.
'I shan't wake him. I shall just sit near him and stay only a minute.'
'Well, I don't know,' she said. 'You might, of course, peep in here, but you must be very careful.'
She led me to the door, number thirty-six, and we entered a tiny room or closet with a couch; she pushed slightly an inner door which was standing ajar and I peered for a moment into a dark room. At first I could only hear my heart thumping, but then I discerned a quick soft breathing. I strained my eyes; there was a screen or something half round the bed, and anyway it would have been too dark to distinguish Sebastian.
'There,' whispered the nurse. 'I shall leave the door open an inch and you may sit here, on this couch, for a minute.'
She lit a small blue-shaded lamp and left me alone. I had a stupid impulse to draw my cigarette case out of my pocket. My hands still shook, but I felt happy. He was alive. He was peacefully asleep. So it was his heart – was it? – that had let him down…. The same as his mother. He was better, there was hope.
'No,' he growled, 'the English Monsieur is not dead. K, K, K….'
'K, n, i, g…' I began once again.
'C'est bon, c'est bon,' he interrupted. 'K, n, K, g… n… I'm not an idiot, you know. Number thirty-six.'
He rang the bell and sank back in his armchair with a yawn. I paced up and down the room in a tremor of uncontrollable impatience. At last a nurse entered and the night-porter pointed at me.
'Number thirty-six,' he said to the nurse.
I followed her down a white passage and up a short flight of stairs. 'How is he?' I could not help asking.
'I don't know,' she said and led me to a second nurse who was sitting at the end of another white passage, the exact copy of the first, and reading a book at a little table.
'A visitor for number thirty-six,' said my guide and slipped away.
'But the English Monsieur is asleep,' said the nurse, a round-faced young woman, with a very small and very shiny nose.
'Is he better?' I asked. 'You see, I'm his brother, and I got a telegram….'
'I think he's a little better,' said the nurse with a smile, which was to me the loveliest smile I could have ever imagined.
'He had a very, very bad heart attack yesterday morning. Now he is asleep.'
'Look here,' I said, handing her a ten or twenty franc coin. 'I'll come tomorrow again, but I'd like to go into his room and wait for a minute there.'
'Oh, but you shouldn't wake him,' she said, smiling again.
'I shan't wake him. I shall just sit near him and stay only a minute.'
'Well, I don't know,' she said. 'You might, of course, peep in here, but you must be very careful.'
She led me to the door, number thirty-six, and we entered a tiny room or closet with a couch; she pushed slightly an inner door which was standing ajar and I peered for a moment into a dark room. At first I could only hear my heart thumping, but then I discerned a quick soft breathing. I strained my eyes; there was a screen or something half round the bed, and anyway it would have been too dark to distinguish Sebastian.
'There,' whispered the nurse. 'I shall leave the door open an inch and you may sit here, on this couch, for a minute.'
She lit a small blue-shaded lamp and left me alone. I had a stupid impulse to draw my cigarette case out of my pocket. My hands still shook, but I felt happy. He was alive. He was peacefully asleep. So it was his heart – was it? – that had let him down…. The same as his mother. He was better, there was hope.