Владимир Набоков: Поиск по текстам произведений автора и критике. Cлово "JEALOUSY". Классическая русская литература.

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Часть текста: was even intended for, since only a pharisaic parody of privacy could be attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twin-bed cabin, a prison cell or paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know nous connmes, to use a Flaubertian intonationthe stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco court, on what the Tour Book of the Automobile Association describes as “shaded” or “spacious” or “landscaped” grounds. The log kind, finished in knotty pine, reminded Lo, by its golden-brown glaze, of friend-chicken bones. We held in contempt the plain whitewashed clapboard Kabins, with their faint sewerish smell or some other gloomy self-conscious stench ...

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Часть текста: Flyanov (who is not quite well) have bedded in the dining room on chairs, with, on the floor, Monsieur Triquet 8 in underwaistcoat and old nightcap. All the young ladies, in Tatiana's and Olga's rooms, are wrapped in sleep. Alone, sadly by Dian's beam 12 illumined at the window, poor Tatiana is not asleep and gazes out on the dark field. III With his unlooked-for apparition, the momentary softness of his eyes, and odd conduct with Olga, 4 to the depth of her soul she's penetrated. She is quite unable to understand him. Jealous anguish perturbs her, 8 as if a cold hand pressed her heart; as if beneath her an abyss yawned black and dinned.... “I shall perish,” says Tanya, 12 “but perishing from him is sweet. I murmur not: why murmur? He cannot give me happiness.” IV Forward, forward, my story! A new persona claims us. Five versts from Krasnogórie, 4 Lenski's estate, there lives and thrives up to the present time in philosophical reclusion Zarétski, formerly a brawler, 8 the hetman of a gaming gang, chieftain of rakehells, pothouse tribune, but now a kind and simple bachelor paterfamilias, 12 a steadfast friend, a peaceable landowner, and even an honorable man: thus does our age correct itself! V Time was, the monde 's obsequious voice used to extol his wicked pluck: he, it is true, could from a pistol 4 at twelve yards hit an ace, and, furthermore, in battle too once, in real rapture, he distinguished...

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Часть текста: more atrociously cruel than an adored child. Did I mention the name of that milk bar I visited a moment ago? It was, of all things, The Frigid Queen. Smiling a little sadly, I dubbed her My Frigid Princess. She did not see the wistful joke. Oh, d not scowl at me, reader, I do not intend to convey the impressin that I did not manage to be happy. Readeer must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness. For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors concours , that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradisea paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flamesbut still a paradise. The able psychiatrist who studies my caseand whom by now Dr. Humbert has plunged, I trust, into a state of leporine fascinationis no doubt anxious to have me take Lolita to the seaside and have me find there, at last, the “gratification” of a lifetime urge, and release from the “subconscious” obsession of an incomplete childhood romance with the initial little Miss Lee. Well, comrade, let me tell you that I did look for a beach, though I also have to confess that by the time we reached its mirage of gray water,...

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Часть текста: one of rather comfortable inanity just because this was the very limit of injustice and frustrationand every limit presupposes something beyond ithence the neutral illumination. And when you bear in mind that these were the raised eyebrows and parted lips of a child, you may better appreciate what depths of calculated carnality, what reflected despair, restrained me from falling at her dear feet and dissolving in human tears, and sacrificing my jealousy to whatever pleasure Lolita might hope to derive from mixing with dirty and dangerous children in an outside world that was real to her. And I have still other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain. Once, in a sunset-ending street of Beardsley, she turned to little Eva Rosen (I was taking both nymphets to a concert and walking behind them so close as almost to touch them with my person), she turned to Eva, and so very serenely and seriously, in answer to something the other had said about its being better to die than hear Milton Pinski, some local schoolboy she knew, talk about music, my Lolita remarked: “You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own”; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about my darling’s mind and that quite possibly, behind the awful juvenile clichs, there was in her a garden and a twilight, and a palace gatedim and adorable regions which happened to be lucidly and absolutely forbidden to me, in my polluted rags and miserable convulsions; for I often noticed that living as we did, she and...

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Часть текста: that's a fine thing. Mercy, man — and you don't find it difficult thus every evening to kill time?” 8 “Not in the least.” “I cannot understand. From here I see what it is like: first — listen, am I right? — a simple Russian family, 12 a great solicitude for guests, jam, never-ending talk of rain, of flax, of cattle yard.” II “So far I do not see what's bad about it.” “Ah, but the boredom — that is bad, my friend.” “Your fashionable world I hate; 4 dearer to me is the domestic circle in which I can…” “Again an eclogue! Ah, that will do, old boy, for goodness' sake. Well, so you're off; I'm very sorry. 8 Oh, Lenski, listen — is there any way for me to see this Phyllis, subject of thoughts, and pen, and tears, and rhymes, et cetera? 12 Present me.” “You are joking.” “No.” “I'd gladly.” “When?” “Now, if you like. They will be eager to receive us.” III “Let's go.” And off the two friends...

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Часть текста: light inspirations, unripe and withered years, 16 the intellect's cold observations, and the heart's sorrowful remarks. CHAPTER ONE To live it hurries and to feel it hastes. Prince Vyazemski I “My uncle has most honest principles: when he was taken gravely ill, he forced one to respect him 4 and nothing better could invent. To others his example is a lesson; but, good God, what a bore to sit by a sick person day and night, not stirring 8 a step away! What base perfidiousness to entertain one half-alive, adjust for him his pillows, 12 sadly serve him his medicine, sigh — and think inwardly when will the devil take you?” II Thus a young scapegrace thought as with post horses in the dust he flew, by the most lofty will of Zeus 4 the heir of all his kin. Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan! The hero of my novel, without preambles, forthwith, 8 I'd like to have you meet: Onegin, a good pal of mine, was born upon the Neva's banks, where maybe you were born, 12 or used to shine, my reader! There formerly I too promenaded — but harmful is the North to me. 1 III Having served excellently, nobly, his father lived by means of debts; gave three balls yearly 4 and squandered everything at last. Fate guarded Eugene: at first, Madame looked after him; later, Monsieur replaced her. 8 The child was boisterous but charming. Monsieur l'Abbé, a poor wretch of a Frenchman, not to wear out the infant, taught him all things in play, 12 bothered him not with stern moralization, scolded him slightly for his pranks, and to the Letniy Sad took him...

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Часть текста: («О поля!») заимствовано из «Сатир» Горация (кн. 2, сатира 6): О, когда ж я увижу поля? [ «О rus, quando ego te aspiciam»] И дозволит ли жребий Мне то в писаниях древних, то в сладкой дремоте и в лени Вновь наслаждаться забвением жизни пустой и тревожной! Эта тема поднимается нашим поэтом вновь в гл. 4, XXXIX, 1, см. коммент. Второе восклицание — «Русь!» — является древним названием и лирическим сокращением слова «Россия». В дневнике Стендаля за 1837 г. я нашел следующую запись: «En 1799… le parti aristocrate attendait les Russes à Grenoble [Суворов был в Швейцарии] ils s'écriaient [341] : „О rus, quando ego te aspiciam!..“» (Journal. Paris, 1888 edn., App. VII). Стендаль избрал такой же эпиграф («О rus, quando ego te aspiciam!») для главы 31 («Сельские развлечения») своего романа «Красное и черное» (1831). Л. Гроссман в «Этюдах о Пушкине» (М., 1923, с. 53) сообщает, что нашел тот же каламбур в «Бьевриане» («Bievriana») издания 1799 г. Сборник, к которому обратился я, «Бьевриана, или Каламбуры маркиза де Бьевра» («Bievriana, ou Jeux de mots de M. de Bièvre», ed. Albénc Deville. Paris, 1800) Франсуа Жоржа Марешаля, маркиза де Бьевра (1747–1789), такой игры слов не содержит. В различных сборниках подобного рода многие остроты, приписываемые Бьевру, связаны с событиями, произошедшими уже после его смерти. В черновике, возможно относящемся к «Альбому Онегина» (см. строфу XIV «Альбома» в коммент. к гл. 7, XXII альтернативная строфа), анекдоты из «Бьеврианы» верно...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "JEALOUSY"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "JEALOUSY"