JК
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight :: Набоков Владимир Владимирович
Страница: 64 из 124He kissed her on the temple and Sheldon helped him carry out his bag (have I already mentioned that, apart from a vague charwoman and the waiter who brought him his meals from a neighbouring restaurant, Sebastian did not employ servants?). When he had gone, the three of them sat in silence for a while.
All at once Clare put down the teapot and said: 'I think that handkerchief had wanted to go with him, I've a great mind to take that hint. '
'Don't be silly,' said Mr Sheldon.
'Why not?' she asked.
If you mean that you want to catch the same train,' began Miss Pratt…
'Why not,' Clare repeated. 'I have forty minutes in which to do it. I'll dash to my place, pack a thing or two, bolt into a taxi…
And she did it. What happened at Victoria is not known, but an hour or so later she rang up Sheldon who had gone home, and told him with a rather pathetic little laugh that Sebastian had not even wanted her to stay on the plaform until his train left. I have a very definite vision somehow of her arriving there, with her bag, her lips ready to part in a humorous smile, her dim eyes peering through the windows of the train, looking for him, then finding him, or perhaps he saw her first…. 'Hullo, here I am,' she must have said brightly, a little too brightly perhaps…
He wrote to her, a few days later, to tell her that the place was very pleasant and that he felt remarkably well. Then there was a silence, and only when Clare had sent an anxious telegram did a card arrive with the information that he was curtailing his stay at Blauberg and would spend a week in Paris before coming home.
Towards the end of that week he rang me up and we dined together at a Russian restaurant. I had not seen him since '1924 and this was 1929. He looked worn and ill, and owing to his pallor seemed unshaven although he had just been to the barber. There was a boil at the back of his neck patched up with pink plaster.
After he had asked me a few questions about myself, we both found it a strain to carry on the conversation. I asked him what had become of the nice girl with whom I had seen him last time. 'What girl?' he asked. 'Oh, Clare. Yes, she's all right. We're sort of married.'
'You look a bit seedy,' I said.
'And I don't give a damn if I do. Will you have "pelmenies" now?'
'Fancy your still remembering what they taste like,' I said.
'Why shouldn't I?' he said drily.
We ate in silence for some minutes. Then we had coffee.
'What did you say the place was called? Blauberg?'
'Yes, Blauberg.
All at once Clare put down the teapot and said: 'I think that handkerchief had wanted to go with him, I've a great mind to take that hint. '
'Don't be silly,' said Mr Sheldon.
'Why not?' she asked.
If you mean that you want to catch the same train,' began Miss Pratt…
'Why not,' Clare repeated. 'I have forty minutes in which to do it. I'll dash to my place, pack a thing or two, bolt into a taxi…
And she did it. What happened at Victoria is not known, but an hour or so later she rang up Sheldon who had gone home, and told him with a rather pathetic little laugh that Sebastian had not even wanted her to stay on the plaform until his train left. I have a very definite vision somehow of her arriving there, with her bag, her lips ready to part in a humorous smile, her dim eyes peering through the windows of the train, looking for him, then finding him, or perhaps he saw her first…. 'Hullo, here I am,' she must have said brightly, a little too brightly perhaps…
He wrote to her, a few days later, to tell her that the place was very pleasant and that he felt remarkably well. Then there was a silence, and only when Clare had sent an anxious telegram did a card arrive with the information that he was curtailing his stay at Blauberg and would spend a week in Paris before coming home.
Towards the end of that week he rang me up and we dined together at a Russian restaurant. I had not seen him since '1924 and this was 1929. He looked worn and ill, and owing to his pallor seemed unshaven although he had just been to the barber. There was a boil at the back of his neck patched up with pink plaster.
After he had asked me a few questions about myself, we both found it a strain to carry on the conversation. I asked him what had become of the nice girl with whom I had seen him last time. 'What girl?' he asked. 'Oh, Clare. Yes, she's all right. We're sort of married.'
'You look a bit seedy,' I said.
'And I don't give a damn if I do. Will you have "pelmenies" now?'
'Fancy your still remembering what they taste like,' I said.
'Why shouldn't I?' he said drily.
We ate in silence for some minutes. Then we had coffee.
'What did you say the place was called? Blauberg?'
'Yes, Blauberg.