Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

The heart of my palm is still full of ivory Lolita—full of the feeling of her prepubescent, inwardly curved back, the way I ran her skin up and down through the thin dress when I held her. That smooth, slippery feel like ivory.I strode into her cluttered room, slammed the closet door open, and got among the crumpled clothes that had touched her.Among them was a pink shirt, which was thin and had a slightly pungent smell from the torn seams.I wrap it around Humbert's huge congested atrium.A flutter of emotion rose up in me--but I had to drop these things and regain my composure when I heard the soft voice of the maid calling me softly on the stairs.She said she had a letter to hand over to me; and after hearing my unreflected thanks and a genial "You're welcome," good Louise sent a letter with an unstamped, surprisingly clean appearance. into my trembling hands.

Here is a confession: You have read the letter; now you know everything.Therefore, please pack your bags and leave immediately.It was a landlady's order.I'm sending a tenant away.I'm throwing you out the door.let's go!go! Departez!If I drive eighty miles an hour both ways and don't have any accidents (but what does it matter?), I'll be back by supper and I don't want to see you at home.I beg you to leave immediately, right now, without even reading this ridiculous letter.let's go.Goodbye. The situation is very simple.Of course, I'm absolutely sure that I mean nothing to you, nothing at all.Yes, you love to talk to me (teasing me, poor man), and you've come to love our cozy house, my favorite books, my pretty garden, and even Lo's noise It's like making a fuss—but I'm nothing to you.right?right.As far as you are concerned, it is nothing at all.However, if, after reading my "confession", you decide, in your dark, romantic European way, that I still have a certain attraction to you, and you can use this letter to flirt with me, then you are a criminal— — Worse than a kidnapper who rapes a young girl.Lo and behold, chari.If you decide to stay, if I find you at home (I know not—that's why I can go on like this), the fact that you stay can mean only one thing: you too I need you to need me the way you need me: as a lifelong partner; you ready to connect your life to mine forever, forever, and to be the father of my little daughter.

What a world of love I have built for you in this magical month of June!I know how reserved and "British" you are.Your old-fashioned reserve, your notions of poise and propriety might be shaken by the audacity of an American girl!You hide your strongest feelings from others, and you must think me a shameless little fool to see my poor wounded heart exposed in this way.Over the years, I have had many disappointments.Mr. Haze is a wonderful man, a man of great character, but he happens to be twenty years older than I am, and—well, let's not talk about the past.Dearest, if, in spite of my entreaties, you have read this letter to its bitter end, your curiosity must have been well satisfied.do not worry.Destroy the letter and let's go.Don't forget to leave the key on the desk in your room.Please leave your address on a small piece of paper so I can pay you back the twelve dollars I owe you at the end of this month.goodbye dear.Pray for me--if you pray.

What I am presenting to the reader here is what I remember from that letter, and what I remember from that letter is what I wrote down verbatim (including the terrible French).The original letter was at least twice as long.I left out a lyrical passage that I more or less skipped over at the time, about Lolita's brother who died when he was two, when Lolita was four, and she said how much I would have liked him otherwise.Let me see what else I have to say.correct. The words "flush down the toilet" (the letter did go down the toilet) are probably my own matter-of-fact contribution.She probably asked me to light a special fire to burn the letter.

My first thought was disgust and avoidance.My second thought was like a friend's calm hand on my shoulder, telling me not to rush.I did so.I woke up from my confusion and found myself still in Luo's room.A full-page ad ripped from a flashy magazine was tacked to the wall above the bed, between the mouth of a crooner and the eyelashes of a movie actress.It showed a dark-haired young husband with a look of exhaustion in his Irish eyes.He was trying on a dressing gown made by So-and-so and carrying a bridge-shaped tray made by So-and-so with two breakfasts in it.The Reverend Thomas Morel's legendary writing calls him a "conquering hero." (Not seen in the ad) The overwhelmed woman is probably half-rising to get her breakfast on the tray.How the guy she was in bed with lifted the bridge tray without getting his clothes dirty, not quite sure.Lo jokingly drew an arrow in the haggard lover's face and wrote in block capitals: HUNG HUNG.Really, despite the age difference of a few years, they are strikingly similar.Below this ad is another image, also a color ad.A famous playwright is smoking a Camel with seriousness.He always draws the camel card.No resemblance can be seen from this picture.Below this picture is Lo's chaste bed, littered with "comic strip" volumes.The enamel on the bed frame had peeled off, leaving black, more or less circular spots on the white shelf.When I was sure Louise was gone, I lay down on Lo's bed and read the letter again.