The Real Life of Sebastian Knight   ::   Набоков Владимир Владимирович

He might have been amused by a hussy getting drunk on beer, but he could not have tolerated a grande cocotte hinting at a craving for bhang. The more I thought of it, the less possible it seemed…. At any rate, I ought not to bother about that girl until I had examined the two other possibilities.

So it was with an eager step that I entered the very imposing house (in a very fashionable part of the town) at which my taxi had stopped. The maid said Madame was not in but, on seeing my disappointment, asked me to wait a moment and then returned with the suggestion that if I liked, I could talk to Madame von Graun's friend, Madame Lecerf. She turned out to be a small, slight, pale-faced young woman with smooth black hair. I thought I had never seen a skin so evenly pale; her black dress was high at the neck, and she used a long black cigarette holder.

'So you would like to see my friend?' she said, and there was, I thought, a delightful old-world suavity in her crystal clear French.

I introduced myself.

'Yes,' she said, 'I saw your card. You are Russian, aren't you?'

'I have come,' I explained, 'on a very delicate errand. But first tell me, am I right in assuming that Madame Graun is a compatriot of mine?'

'Mais oui, elle est tout ce qu'il y a de plus russe,' she answered in her soft tinkling voice. 'Her husband was German, but he spoke Russian, too.'

'Ah,' I said, 'the past tense is most welcome.'

'You may be quite frank with me,' said Madame Lecerf. 'I rather like delicate errands.'

'I am related,' I went on, 'to the English author, Sebastian Knight, who died two months ago; and I am attempting to work out his biography. He had a close friend whom he met at Blauberg where he stayed in 1929. I am trying to trace her. This is about all.'

'Quelle drфle d'histoire!' she exclaimed. 'What a curious story. And what do you want her to tell you?'

'Oh, anything she pleases…. But am I to understand…. Do you mean that Madame Graun is the person in question?'

'Very possibly,' she said, 'though I don't think I ever heard her mentioning that particular name…. What did you say it was?'

'Sebastian Knight.'

'No. But still it's quite possible. She always picks up friends at the places where she stays. Il va sans dire,' she added, 'that you ought to speak to her personally. Oh, I'm sure you'll find her charming. But what a strange story: she repeated looking at me with a smile. 'Why must you write a book about him, and how is it you don't know the woman's name?'

'Sebastian Knight was rather secretive,' I explained.