In the opening line of his poem Kakoe sdelal ya durnoe delo… (“What is the evil deed I have committed?" 1959) VN mentions durnoe delo (the evil deed):
Какое сделал я дурное дело,
и я ли развратитель и злодей,
я, заставляющий мечтать мир целый
о бедной девочке моей?
О, знаю я, меня боятся люди,
и жгут таких, как я, за волшебство,
и, как от яда в полом изумруде,
мрут от искусства моего.
Но как забавно, что в конце абзаца,
корректору и веку вопреки,
тень русской ветки будет колебаться
на мраморе моей руки.
What is the evil deed I have committed?
Seducer, criminal – is this the word
for me who set the entire world a-dreaming
of my poor little girl?
Oh, I know well that I am feared by people:
They burn the likes of me for wizard wiles
and as of poison in a hollow smaragd
of my art die.
Amusing, though, that at the last indention,
despite proofreaders and my age's ban,
a Russian branch's shadow shall be playing
upon the marble of my hand.
VN’s footnote: Lines 1–4. The first strophe imitates the beginning of Boris Pasternak’s poem in which he points out that his notorious novel “made the whole world shed tears over the beauty of [his] native land.”
According to a Russian saying, durnoe delo nekhitroe (an evil deed is not difficult [does not require wit]). Lolita cannot be evil, for no other reason than it is difficult (much more difficult and perfect than Pasternak's novel). In Pushkin’s little tragedy “Mozart and Salieri” (1830) Mozart says that genius and villainy are two things incompatible. I, kak ot yada v polom izumrude (And, as of poison in a hollow smaragd), a line in the second strophe of VN’s poem, brings to mind dar Izory (Isora’s gift), the poison that Salieri slips into Mozart’s glass in Pushkin’s little tragedy.
The beginning of VN’s poem actually imitates the third (penultimate) strophe of Pasternak’s poem Nobelevskaya premiya (“The Nobel Prize,” 1959):
Что же сделал я за пакость,
Я убийца и злодей?
Я весь мир заставил плакать
Над красой земли моей.
Am I really so polluted,
Malefactor, killer too?
World out there with tears saluted
How my lovely land I drew.
(transl. Rupert Moreton)
Amusing, though, that in Pasternak’s “Doktor Zhivago” (1957) Tiverzin, as he speaks to Antipov (Lara’s future husband), uses the phrase delo nekhitroe (nothing to it):
Через часа три или четыре, поближе к сумеркам, в стороне от дороги в поле как из-под земли выросли две фигуры, которых раньше не было на поверхности, и, часто оглядываясь, стали быстро удаляться. Это были Антипов и Тиверзин.
– Пойдём скорее, – сказал Тиверзин. – Я не шпиков остерегаюсь, как бы не выследили, а сейчас кончится эта волынка, вылезут они из землянки и нагонят. А я их видеть не могу. Когда все так тянуть, незачем и огород городить. Ни к чему тогда и комитет, и с огнем игра, и лезть под землю! И ты тоже хорош, эту размазню с Николаевской поддерживаешь.
– У моей Дарьи тиф брюшной. Мне бы ее в больницу. Покамест не свезу, ничего в голову не лезет.
– Говорят, выдают сегодня жалованье. Схожу в контору. Не платежный бы день, вот как перед Богом, плюнул бы я на вас и, не медля ни минуты, своей управой положил бы конец гомозне.
– Это, позвольте спросить, каким же способом?
– Дело нехитрое. Спустился в котельную, дал свисток – и кончен бал.
Three or four hours later, closer to dusk, two figures, who had not been on the surface earlier, emerged as if from under the ground in the field to one side of the tracks and, looking back frequently, began to hurry off. They were Antipov and Tiverzin.
“Let’s make it quick,” said Tiverzin. “I’m not afraid of being tailed by spies, but once this diddling around is over, they’ll climb out of the dugout and catch up with us, and I can’t stand the sight of them. If everything’s dragged out like this, there’s no point fussing and fuming. There’s no need for a committee, and for playing with fire, and burrowing under the ground! You’re a good one, too, supporting all this slop from the Nikolaevsky line.”
“My Darya’s got typhoid fever. I’d like to get her to the hospital. Until I do, my head’s not good for anything.”
“They say they’re handing out wages today. I’ll go to the office.”
If it wasn’t payday, as God is my witness, I’d spit on you all and personally put an end to all this dithering without a moment’s delay.”
“In what way, may I ask?”
“Nothing to it. Go down to the boiler room, give a whistle, and the party’s over.” (Part One, chapter 6)
To return briefly to my post "56 days in Lolita." A letter from Lolita that Humbert receives on Sept. 22, 1952, is dated Sept. 18, 1952. According to Humbert Humbert (who dies on Nov. 16, 1952), it took him fifty-six days (eight weeks) to write Lolita. Nov. 16, 1952 (the day of HH's death), was Sunday. The eighth Sunday before Nov. 16, 1952, was Sept. 21, 1952. HH (who receives a letter from Lolita only on the next day) could not have started writing his book on Sept. 21. He begins writing it four days later, on Sept. 25 (the day of Quilty's murder and of HH's arrest). Actually, it takes HH fifty-two days to write Lolita (but in prison times goes slowlier, hence the four extra days in HH's calendar). 56 − 52 = 25 − 21 = 22 − 18 = 4. In the penultimate strophe of his poem Zvyozdy ("The Stars," 1925) Hodasevich mentions Den' Chetvyortyi (Day Four, on which God created the stars) reflected in a shameful puddle:
И заходя в дыру всё ту же,
И восходя на небосклон,
- Так вот в какой постыдной луже
Твой День Четвёртый отражён!..
Нелёгкий труд, о Боже правый,
Всю жизнь воссоздавать мечтой
Твой мир, горящий звёздной славой
И первозданною красой.
Lolita dies in childbed, giving birth to a still-born girl, in Gray Star, a settlement in the remotest Northwest, forty days after Humbert Humbert's death.