JК
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight :: Набоков Владимир Владимирович
Страница: 99 из 124The weather was fair and every time the train stopped I seemed to hear the light uneven breathing of spring, still barely visible but unquestionably present: 'cold-limbed ballet-girls waiting in the wings', as Sebastian put it once.
Madame Lecerf's house was large and ramshackle. A score of unhealthy old trees represented the park. There were fields on one side and a hill with a factory on the other. Everything about the place had a queer look of weariness, and shabbiness, and dustiness; when later I learned that it had only been built some thirty-odd years ago I felt still more surprised by its decrepitude. As I approached the main entrance I met a man hastily scrunching down the gravel walk; he stopped and shook hands with me:
'Enchantй de vous cannaоtre,' he said, summing me up with a melancholy glance, 'my wife is expecting you. Je suis navrй… but I am obliged to go to Paris this Sunday.'
He was a middle-aged rather common-looking Frenchman with tired eyes and an automatic smile. We shook hands once more.
'Mon ami, you'll miss that train,' came Madame Lecerf's crystal voice from the veranda, and he trotted off obediently.
Today she wore a beige dress, her lips were brightly made up but she had not dreamt of meddling with her diaphanous complexion. The sun gave a bluish sheen to her hair and I found myself thinking that she was after all quite a pretty young woman. We wandered through two or three rooms which looked as if the idea of a drawing-room had been vaguely divided between them. I had the impression that we were quite alone in that unpleasant rambling house. She picked up a shawl lying on a green silk settee and drew it about her.
'Isn't it cold,' she said. 'That's one thing I hate in life, cold. Feel my hands. They are always like that except in summer. Lunch will be ready in a minute. Sit down.'
'When exactly is she coming?' I asked.
'Йcoutez,' said Madame Lecerf, 'can't you forget her for a minute and talk about other things? Ce n'est pas trиs poli, vous savez. Tell me something about yourself. Where do you live, and what do you do?'
'Will she be here in the afternoon?'
'Yes, yes, you obstinate man, Monsieur l'entкtй. She's sure to come. Don't be so impatient. You know, women don't much care for men with an idйe fixe. How did you like my husband?'
I said that he must be much older than she.
'He is quite kind but a dreadful bore,' she went on, laughing. 'I sent him away on purpose. We've been married for only a year, but it feels like a diamond wedding already. And I just hate this house. Don't you?'
I said it seemed rather old-fashioned.
'Oh, that's not the right term.
Madame Lecerf's house was large and ramshackle. A score of unhealthy old trees represented the park. There were fields on one side and a hill with a factory on the other. Everything about the place had a queer look of weariness, and shabbiness, and dustiness; when later I learned that it had only been built some thirty-odd years ago I felt still more surprised by its decrepitude. As I approached the main entrance I met a man hastily scrunching down the gravel walk; he stopped and shook hands with me:
'Enchantй de vous cannaоtre,' he said, summing me up with a melancholy glance, 'my wife is expecting you. Je suis navrй… but I am obliged to go to Paris this Sunday.'
He was a middle-aged rather common-looking Frenchman with tired eyes and an automatic smile. We shook hands once more.
'Mon ami, you'll miss that train,' came Madame Lecerf's crystal voice from the veranda, and he trotted off obediently.
Today she wore a beige dress, her lips were brightly made up but she had not dreamt of meddling with her diaphanous complexion. The sun gave a bluish sheen to her hair and I found myself thinking that she was after all quite a pretty young woman. We wandered through two or three rooms which looked as if the idea of a drawing-room had been vaguely divided between them. I had the impression that we were quite alone in that unpleasant rambling house. She picked up a shawl lying on a green silk settee and drew it about her.
'Isn't it cold,' she said. 'That's one thing I hate in life, cold. Feel my hands. They are always like that except in summer. Lunch will be ready in a minute. Sit down.'
'When exactly is she coming?' I asked.
'Йcoutez,' said Madame Lecerf, 'can't you forget her for a minute and talk about other things? Ce n'est pas trиs poli, vous savez. Tell me something about yourself. Where do you live, and what do you do?'
'Will she be here in the afternoon?'
'Yes, yes, you obstinate man, Monsieur l'entкtй. She's sure to come. Don't be so impatient. You know, women don't much care for men with an idйe fixe. How did you like my husband?'
I said that he must be much older than she.
'He is quite kind but a dreadful bore,' she went on, laughing. 'I sent him away on purpose. We've been married for only a year, but it feels like a diamond wedding already. And I just hate this house. Don't you?'
I said it seemed rather old-fashioned.
'Oh, that's not the right term.