11/11/2023 0 Comments Good night tree images![]() Sometimes the man carried a butterfly net. Nabokov had smuggled a reference to his bliss with Véra into his new novel, King, Queen, Knave:įranz had long since noticed this couple they had appeared to him in fleeting glimpses, like a recurrent dream image or a subtle leitmotiv- now at the beach, now in a café, now on the promenade. Véra worked for a law firm and translated, and Vladimir gave tennis lessons, acted as an extra, and taught bright boys chess and old ladies Russian. ![]() The couple somehow scraped by in the strange world of 1920s Berlin. The movement of the stars above our encounter And what if you are to be my fate. A poem he published in the Russian émigré newspaper Rul contained verses no one but she could decipher: Vladimir snared Véra a few years earlier. Then she will float out of the house on high heels with the first warm breath of night. After her performances or her film shoots, she will often come home, kiss the sleeping Maria on the forehead, change her clothes, and apply a fresh dash of perfume. The nanny, Tamara, now shares the marital bed with Rudolf, much to Marlene’s relief. She calls him “Daddy,” he refers to her as “Mummy.” Their daughter, Maria, is four years old. At home, they perform their own production of Misalliance. “But who would risk marrying a man for love? I shouldn’t.” Marlene Dietrich speaks these lines on the stage of the Komödie am Kurfürstendamm, in a production of George Bernard Shaw’s Misalliance, drawing languorously on her cigarette and lowering her eyelids.Īfter the show, she drives home to Rudolf Sieber, the husband she didn’t marry for love. “Simone told me you were short, wore glasses, and were very ugly.” “But how did you recognize me so easily among all these people?” Sartre asks. A young blonde woman comes rushing up to his table. He has read somewhere that this is what people do. He plans to take her to the nearby Jardin du Luxembourg and sail model boats on the pond. He sits in a tearoom in Rue de Médicis waiting for her. ![]() He finally manages to arrange a date with her a few weeks later. The moment Jean-Paul Sartre first gazes into Simone de Beauvoir’s eyes at the École Normale Supérieure in Paris in the spring of 1929 is the only time his mind goes blank.
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