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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36
Входимость: 9. Размер: 58кб.
2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 28 - 33
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3. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
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4. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 27 - 31
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5. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17
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6. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11
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7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two
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8. The Song of Igor's Campaign, Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg (перевод Набокова)
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9. Ада, или Радости страсти. Семейная хроника. (Часть 1, глава 31)
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10. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
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11. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 17 - 21
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12. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 1 - 2
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13. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five
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14. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 23 - 27
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15. Джонсон Д. Б.: Владимир Набоков и Руперт Брук
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16. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 9 - 16
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17. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Playboy, 1964 г.
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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36
Входимость: 9. Размер: 58кб.
Часть текста: could not help perceiving, the fact that I was to her not a boy friend, not a glamour man, not a pal, not even a person at all, but just two eyes and a foot of engorged brawnto mention only mentionable matters. There was the day when having withdrawn the functional promise I had made her on the eve (whatever she had set her funny little heart ona roller rink with some special plastic floor or a movie matinee to which she wanted to go alone), I happened to glimpse from the bathroom, through a chance combination of mirror aslant and door ajar, a look on her face… that look I cannot exactly describe… an expression of helplessness so perfect that it seemed to grade into 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...
2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 28 - 33
Входимость: 3. Размер: 42кб.
Часть текста: would let myself into that “342” and find my nymphet, my beauty and bride, imprisoned in her crystal sleep. Jurors! If my happiness could have talked, it would have filled that genteel hotel with a deafening roar. And my only regret today is that I did not quietly deposit key “342” at the office, and leave the town, the country, the continent, the hemisphere,indeed, the globethat very same night. Let me explain. I was not unduly disturbed by her self-accusatory innuendoes. I was still firmly resolved to pursue my policy of sparing her purity by operating only in the stealth of night, only upon a completely anesthetized little nude. Restraint and reverence were still my motto-even if that “purity” (incidentally, thoroughly debunked by modern science) had been slightly damaged through some juvenile erotic experience, no doubt homosexual, at that accursed camp of hers. Of course, in my old-fashioned, old-world way, I, Jean-Jacques Humbert, had taken for granted, when I first met her, that she was as unravished as the stereotypical notion of “normal child” had been since the lamented end of the Ancient World B. C. and its fascinating practices. We are not surrounded in our enlighted era by little slave flowers that can be casually plucked between business and bath as they used to be in the days of the Romans; and we do not, as dignified Orientals did in still more luxurious times, use tiny entertainers fore and aft between the mutton and the rose sherbet. The whole point is that the old link between the adult world and the child world has been completely severed nowadays by new customs and new laws. Despite my having dabbled in psychiatry and social work, I really knew very little about children. After all, Lolita was only twelve, and no matter what concessions I made to time and placeeven bearing in mind the...
3. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
Входимость: 3. Размер: 53кб.
Часть текста: tender with cornered Lolita yet, and therefore agreed it was not worth while tearing the child away from her beloved Camp Q. My soi-disant   passionate and lonely Charlotte was in everyday life matter-of-fact and gregarious. Moreover, I discovered that although she could not control her heart or her cries, she was a woman of principle. Immediately after she had become more or less my mistress (despite the stimulants, her “nervous, eager chri  a heroic chri   !  had some initial trouble, for which, however, he amply compensated her by a fantastic display of old-world endearments), good Charlotte interviewed me about my relations with God. I could have answered that on that score my mind was open; I said, insteadpaying my tribute to a pious platitudethat I believed in a cosmic spirit. Looking down at her fingernails, she also asked me had I not in my family a certain strange strain. I countered by inquiring whether she would still want to marry me if my father’s maternal grandfather had been, say, a Turk. She said it did not matter a bit; but that, if she ever found out I did not believe in Our Christian God, she would commit suicide. She said it so solemnly that it gave me the creeps. It was then I knew she was a woman of principle. Oh, she was very genteel: she said “excuse me” whenever a slight burp interrupted her flowing speech, called an envelope and ahnvelope, and when talking to her lady-friends referred to me as Mr. Humbert. I thought it would please her if I entered the community trailing some glamour after me. On the day of our wedding a little interview with me appeared in the Society Column of the Ramsdale Journal  , with a photograph of Charlotte, one eyebrow up and a misprint in her name (“Hazer”). Despite this contretempts, the publicity warmed the porcelain cockles of her heartand made my rattles shake...
4. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 27 - 31
Входимость: 3. Размер: 46кб.
Часть текста: to collapse as I leant against an adjacent urn, almost my own. Whenever that happenedwhenever her lovely, childish scrawl was horribly transformed into the dull hand of one of my few correspondentsI used to recollect, with anguished amusement, the times in my trustful, pre-dolorian past when I would be misled by a jewel-bright window opposite wherein my lurking eye, the ever alert periscope of my shameful vice, would make out from afar a half-naked nymphet stilled in the act of combing her Alice-in-Wonderland hair. There was in the fiery phantasm a perfection which made my wild delight also perfect, just because the vision was out of reach, with no possibility of attainment to spoil it by the awareness of an appended taboo; indeed, it may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promisedthe great rosegray never-to-be-had. Mes fentres!   Hanging above blotched sunset and welling night, grinding my teeth, I would crowd all the demons of my desire against the railing of a throbbing balcony: it would be ready to take off in the apricot and black humid evening; did take offwhereupon the lighted image would move and Even would revert to a rib, and there would be nothing in the window but an obese partly clad man reading the paper. Since I sometimes won the race between my ...
5. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17
Входимость: 2. Размер: 43кб.
Часть текста: as the reader will mark, was more afraid of Lo’s deriving some pleasure from me than of my enjoying Lo). The passion I had developed for that nymphetfor the first nymphet in my life that could be reached at last by my awkward, aching, timid clawswould have certainly landed me again in a sanatorium, had not the devil realized that I was to be granted some relief if he wanted to have me as a plaything for some time longer. The reader has also marked the curious Mirage of the Lake. It would have been logical on the part of Aubrey McFate (as I would like to dub that devil of mine) to arrange a small treat for me on the promised beach, in the presumed forest. Actually, the promise Mrs. Haze had made was a fraudulent one: she had not told me that Mary Rose Hamilton (a dark little beauty in her own right) was to come too, and that the two nymphets would be whispering apart, and playing apart, and having a good time all by themselves, while Mrs. Haze and her handsome lodger conversed sedately in the seminude, far from prying eyes. Incidentally, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. How queer life is! We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Before my actual arrival, my landlady had planned to have an old spinster, a Miss Phalen, whose mother had been cook in Mrs. Haze’s family, come to stay in the house with Lolita and me, while Mrs. Haze, a career girl at heart, sought some suitable job in the nearest city. Mrs. Haze had seen the whole situation very clearly: the bespectacled, round-backed Herr Humbert coming with his Central-European trunks to gather dust in his corner behind a heap of old books; the...
6. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11
Входимость: 1. Размер: 53кб.
Часть текста: aspects, attending to it whenever I had nothing better to do. On the other hand, I was urged by a war-time university in New York to complete my comparative history of French literature for English-speaking students. The first volume took me a couple of years during which I put in seldom less than fifteen hours of work daily. As I look back on those days, I see them divided tidily into ample light and narrow shade: the light pertaining to the solace of research in palatial libraries, the shade to my excruciating desires and insomnias of which enough has been said. Knowing me by now, the reader can easily imagine how dusty and hot I got, trying to catch a glimpse of nymphets (alas, always remote) playing in Central Park, and how repulsed I was by the glitter of deodorized career girls that a gay dog in one of the offices kept unloading upon me. Let us skip all that. A dreadful breakdown sent me to a sanatorium for more than a year; I went back to my workonly to be hospitalized again. Robust outdoor life seemed to promise me some relief. One of my favorite doctors, a charming cynical chap with a little brown beard, had a brother, and this brother was about to lead an expedition into arctic Canada. I was attached to it as a “recorder of psychic reactions.” With two young botanists and an old carpenter I shared now and then (never very successfully) the favors of one of our nutritionists, a Dr. Anita Johnsonwho was soon flown back, I am glad to say. I had little notion of what object the expedition was pursuing. Judging by the number of meteorologists upon it, we may have been tracking to its lair (somewhere on Prince of Wales’ Island, I understand) the wandering and wobbly north magnetic pole. One group, jointly with the Canadians, established a weather station on Pierre Point in Melville Sound. Another group, equally misguided, collected...
7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two
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Часть текста:   one could glimpse hamlets here and there;   herds roamed the meadows; 12  and its dense coverts spread   a huge neglected garden, the retreat   of pensive dryads. II   The venerable castle   was built as castles should be built:   excellent strong and comfortable   4  in the taste of sensible ancientry.   Tall chambers everywhere,   hangings of damask in the drawing room,   portraits of grandsires on the walls,   8  and stoves with varicolored tiles.   All this today is obsolete,   I really don't know why;   and anyway it was a matter 12  of very little moment to my friend,   since he yawned equally amidst   modish and olden halls. III   He settled in that chamber where the rural   old-timer had for forty years or so   squabbled with his housekeeper,   4  looked through the window, and squashed flies.   It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards,   a table, a divan of down,   and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin   8  opened the cupboards; found in one   a notebook of expenses and in the other   a whole array of fruit liqueurs,   pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12  and the calendar for eighteen-eight:   having a lot to do, the old man...
8. The Song of Igor's Campaign, Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg (перевод Набокова)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 34кб.
Часть текста: sang a song first"- to Yaroslav of yore, and to brave Mstislav who slew Rededya before the Kasog troops, and to fair Roman son of Svyatoslav. To be sure, brothers, Boyan did not [really] set ten falcons upon a flock of swans: his own vatic fingers he laid on the live strings,   which then twanged out by themselves a paean to princes. So let us begin, brothers, this tale- from Vladimir of yore to nowadays Igor. who girded his mind with fortitude, and sharpened his heart with manliness; [thus] imbued with the spirit of arms, he led his brave troops against the Kuman land in the name of the Russian land. Boyan apostrophized O Boyan, nigh tingale of the times of old! If you were to trill [your praise of]   these troops,   while hopping, nightingale, over the tre e of thought; [if you were] flying in mind up to the clouds; [if] weaving paeans around these times, [you were] roving the Troyan Trail, across fields onto hills; then the song to be sung of Igor, that grandson of Oleg [, would be]: "No storm has swept falcons across wide fields;   flocks of daws flee toward the Great Don";   or you might intone thus, vatic Boyan, grandson of Veles: "Steeds neigh beyond the Sula; glory rings in Kiev; trumpets blare in Novgorod[-Seversk]; banners are raised in Putivl."   Vsievolod's speech Igor waits for his dear brother Vsevolod. And Wild Bull Vsevolod...
9. Ада, или Радости страсти. Семейная хроника. (Часть 1, глава 31)
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Часть текста: стоявшего на веранде гостиной с похожим на флейту бокалом шампанского в руке и глядевшего вниз, на голорукую девушку в черном: убеленный сединами шофер подавал к крыльцу старую, сотрясающуюся на каждой неровности двухместку; девушка, широко разведя голые руки, держала перед собою раскрытую белую накидку своей двоюродной бабки, старой баронессы фон Краниум. Очерк нового, вытянувшегося тела Ады черным профилем рисовался на белизне накидки – чернотой ее ладного шелкового платья без рукавов, украшений, воспоминаний. Неповоротливая старая баронесса постояла, что-то нашаривая подмышкой, затем под другой – что? костылек? щекочущий хвостик скосившихся бус? – и когда она полуобернулась, принимая накидку (уже перенятую у внучатой племянницы подоспевшим, наконец, не знакомым Вану слугой), полуобернулась и Ада и, белея еще не убранной бриллиантами шеей, взбежала по ступенькам крыльца. Ван, огибая колонны холла и стайки гостей, летел за нею по дому, к далекому столу с хрустальным кувшином вишневой “амброзии”. Вопреки моде, она не носила чулок; икры ее были крепки и белы, а (у меня под рукой заметки к роману, так и оставшемуся призраком) “низкий вырез черного платья помогал рождаться контрасту между знакомой тусклой белизной ее кожи и брутальной чернотой по-новому, в...
10. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Часть текста: my world, umber and black Humberland, with rash curiosity; she surveyed it with a shrug of amused distaste; and it seemed to me now that she was ready to turn away from it with something akin to plain repulsion. Never did she vibrate under my touch, and a strident “what d’you think you are doing?” was all I got for my pains. To the wonderland I had to offer, my fool preferred the corniest movies, the most cloying fudge. To think that between a Hamburger and a Humburger, she wouldinvariably, with icy precisionplump for the former. There is nothing 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...