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The Real Life of Sebastian Knight :: Набоков Владимир Владимирович
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'Was it nice there?'
'It depends on what you call nice,' he said and his jaw-muscles moved as he scrunched a yawn. 'Sorry,' he said, 'I hope I get some sleep in the train.'
He suddenly fumbled at my wrist.
'Half past eight,' I replied.
'I've got to telephone,' he muttered and strode across the restaurant with his napkin in his hand. Five minutes later he was back with the napkin half-stuffed into his coat-pocket. I pulled it out.
'Look here,' he said, 'I'm dreadfully sorry, I must be going. I forgot I had an appointment.'
'It has always distressed me', writes Sebastian Knight in Lost Property, 'that people in restaurants never notice the animated mysteries, who bring them their food and check their overcoats and push doors open for them. I once reminded a businessman with whom I had lunched a few weeks before, that the woman who had handed us our hats had had cotton wool in her ears. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't been aware of there having been any woman at all…. A person who fails to notice a taxi-driver's hare-lip because he is in a hurry to get somewhere, is to me a monomaniac. I have often felt as if I were sitting among blind men and madmen, when I thought that I was the only one in the crowd to wonder about the chocolate-girl's slight, very slight limp.'
As we left the restaurant and were making our way towards the taxi-rank, a bleary-eyed old man wetted his thumb and offered Sebastian or me or both, one of the printed advertisements he was distributing. Neither of us took it, both looked straight ahead, sullen dreamers ignoring the offer. 'Well, good-bye,' I said to Sebastian, as he beckoned to a cab.
'Come and see me one day in London,' he said and glanced over his shoulder. 'Wait a1minute,' he added, 'this won't do. I have cut a beggar….' He left me and presently returned, a small sheet of paper in his hand. He read it carefully before throwing it away.
'Want a lift?' he asked.
I felt he was madly anxious to get rid of me.
'No, thanks,' I said. I did not catch the address he gave to the chauffeur, but I recall his telling him to go fast.
When he returned to London…. No, the thread of the narrative breaks off and I must ask others to tie up the threads again.
Did Clare notice at once that something had happened? Did she suspect at once what that something was? Shall we try to guess what she asked Sebastian, and what he answered, and what she said then? I think we will not…. Sheldon saw them soon after Sebastian's return and found that Sebastian looked queer. But he had looked queer before, too…
'Presently it began to worry me,' said Mr Sheldon.
'Was it nice there?'
'It depends on what you call nice,' he said and his jaw-muscles moved as he scrunched a yawn. 'Sorry,' he said, 'I hope I get some sleep in the train.'
He suddenly fumbled at my wrist.
'Half past eight,' I replied.
'I've got to telephone,' he muttered and strode across the restaurant with his napkin in his hand. Five minutes later he was back with the napkin half-stuffed into his coat-pocket. I pulled it out.
'Look here,' he said, 'I'm dreadfully sorry, I must be going. I forgot I had an appointment.'
'It has always distressed me', writes Sebastian Knight in Lost Property, 'that people in restaurants never notice the animated mysteries, who bring them their food and check their overcoats and push doors open for them. I once reminded a businessman with whom I had lunched a few weeks before, that the woman who had handed us our hats had had cotton wool in her ears. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't been aware of there having been any woman at all…. A person who fails to notice a taxi-driver's hare-lip because he is in a hurry to get somewhere, is to me a monomaniac. I have often felt as if I were sitting among blind men and madmen, when I thought that I was the only one in the crowd to wonder about the chocolate-girl's slight, very slight limp.'
As we left the restaurant and were making our way towards the taxi-rank, a bleary-eyed old man wetted his thumb and offered Sebastian or me or both, one of the printed advertisements he was distributing. Neither of us took it, both looked straight ahead, sullen dreamers ignoring the offer. 'Well, good-bye,' I said to Sebastian, as he beckoned to a cab.
'Come and see me one day in London,' he said and glanced over his shoulder. 'Wait a1minute,' he added, 'this won't do. I have cut a beggar….' He left me and presently returned, a small sheet of paper in his hand. He read it carefully before throwing it away.
'Want a lift?' he asked.
I felt he was madly anxious to get rid of me.
'No, thanks,' I said. I did not catch the address he gave to the chauffeur, but I recall his telling him to go fast.
When he returned to London…. No, the thread of the narrative breaks off and I must ask others to tie up the threads again.
Did Clare notice at once that something had happened? Did she suspect at once what that something was? Shall we try to guess what she asked Sebastian, and what he answered, and what she said then? I think we will not…. Sheldon saw them soon after Sebastian's return and found that Sebastian looked queer. But he had looked queer before, too…
'Presently it began to worry me,' said Mr Sheldon.