Describing his convalescence after a stroke, Vadim Vadimovich (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Look at the Harlequins!, 1974) mentions Reality:
One of the windows was wide open when I woke up. My mind and my eye were by now sufficiently keen to make out the medicaments on my bedside table. Amidst its miserable population I noticed a few stranded travelers from another world: a transparent envelope with a nonmasculine handkerchief found and laundered by the staff; a diminutive golden pencil belonging to the eyelet of a congeric agenda in a vanity bag; a pair of harlequin sunglasses, which for some reason suggested not protection from a harsh light but the masking of tear-swollen lids. The combination of those ingredients resulted in a dazzling pyrotechny of sense; and next moment (coincidence was still on my side) the door of my room moved: a small soundless move that came to a brief soundless stop and then was continued in a slow, infinitely slow sequence of suspension dots in diamond type. I emitted a bellow of joy, and Reality entered. (7.3)
By “Reality” Vadim Vadimovich means his last love, “You.” In the last chapter of his autobiography Speak, Memory (1951) VN calls his wife “you.” At the end of the Russian version of his autobiography, Drugie berega (“Other Shores,” 1954), just before the book’s last paragraph, VN offers the solution of a chess problem whose position is given in the penultimate chapter:
Кстати, чтоб не забыть: решение шахматной задачи в предыдущей главе - слон идёт на с2. (Chapter XIV, 3)
In VN’s novel Zashchita Luzhina (“The Luzhin Defense,” 1930) Luzhin easily solves a chess problem composed by Valentinov (Luzhin’s former tutor and impresario):
В это мгновение дверь с размаху открылась, и кудрявый господин без пиджака крикнул по-немецки, с тревожной мольбой в голосе: "Ах, пожалуйста, господин Валентинов, на одну минуточку!" "Прости, дорогой",- сказал Валентинов и пошел к двери, но, не доходя, круто повернулся, порылся в бумажнике и выбросил на стол перед Лужиным какой-то листок. "Недавно сочинил,- сказал он.- Ты реши покамест. Я через десять минут вернусь".
Он исчез. Лужин осторожно поднял веки. Машинально взял листок. Вырезка из шахматного журнала, диаграмма задачи. В три хода мат. Композиция доктора Валентинова. Задача была холодна и хитра, и, зная Валентинова, Лужин мгновенно нашел ключ. В этом замысловатом шахматном фокусе он, как воочию, увидел все коварство его автора. Из темных слов, только что в таком обилии сказанных Валентиновым, он понял одно: никакого кинематографа нет, кинематограф только предлог... ловушка, ловушка... Вовлечение в шахматную игру, и затем следующий ход ясен. Но этот ход сделан не будет.
At this moment the door opened with a rush and a coatless, curly-haired gentleman shouted in German, with an anxious plea in his voice: “Oh, please. Dr. Valentinov, just one minute!” “Excuse me, dear boy,” said Valentinov and went to the door, but before reaching it he turned sharply around, rummaged in his billfold and threw a slip of paper on the table before Luzhin. “Recently composed it,” he said. “You can solve it while you are waiting. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He disappeared. Luzhin cautiously raised his eyelids. Mechanically he took the slip. A cutting from a chess magazine, the diagram of a problem. Mate in three moves. Composed by Dr. Valentinov. The problem was cold and cunning, and knowing Valentinov, Luzhin instantly found the key. In this subtle problem he saw clearly all the perfidy of its author. From the dark words just spoken by Valentinov in such abundance, he understood one thing: there was no movie, the movie was just a pretext . . . a trap, a trap . . . he would be inveigled into playing chess and then the next move was clear. But this move would not be made. (Chapter Fourteen)
When Luzhin’s fiancée enters his hotel room, Luzhin (who is deeply immersed in his chess thoughts) asks her: Real’nost’? (“Are you real?”):
Объяснение всему происходившему пришло как-то утром, когда он сидел на стуле посреди номера и старался сосредоточить мысль только на одном: вчера сделан десятый пункт, сегодня предстоит выиграть у Мозера. Вдруг к нему вошла невеста. "Прямо какой-то божок,- рассмеялась она.- Сидит посередке, и к нему приходят с жертвоприношениями". Она протянула ему коробку шоколадных конфет, и внезапно смех с ее лица исчез. "Лужин,- крикнула она,- Лужин, проснитесь! Что с вами?" "Реальность?"- тихо и недоверчиво спросил Лужин. "Конечно, реальность. Что за манера поставить стул посреди комнаты и усесться. Если вы сейчас не встряхнетесь, я уйду". Лужин покорно встряхнулся, поводя головой и плечами, потом пересел на кушетку, и еще не совсем утвердившееся, не совсем верное счастье заскользило в его глазах. "Скажите, когда это кончится?- спросила она.- Сколько еще партий?" "Штучки три",- ответил Лужин. "Я сегодня читала в газете, что вы должны выиграть турнир, что вы этот раз играете необычайно". "Но есть Турати",- сказал Лужин и поднял палец. "Меня тошнит",- добавил он грустно. "Тогда никаких конфет",- быстро сказала она и взяла квадратный пакет опять под мышку. "Лужин, я позову к вам доктора. Вы же просто умрете, если будет так продолжаться". "Нет-нет,- сказал он сонно.- Уже прошло. Не надо доктора". "Меня это волнует. Еще, значит, до пятницы, до субботы... этот ад. А у нас дома довольно мрачно. Все согласны с мамой, что нельзя мне за вас выйти. Почему же вас тошнило, съели что-нибудь такое?" "Прошло же, абсолютно",- протянул Лужин и опустил голову к ней на плечо. "Вы просто очень устали, бедный. Неужели вы сегодня будете играть?" "В три часа. Против Мозера. Я вообще играю... как было сказано?" "Необычайно",- улыбнулась она. Голова, лежавшая у нее на плече, была большая, тяжелая,- драгоценный аппарат со сложным, таинственным механизмом. И через минуту она заметила, что он уснул, и стала думать, как теперь переложить его голову на какую-нибудь подушку. Очень осторожными движениями ей удалось это сделать; он теперь полулежал на кушетке, неудобно согнувшись, и голова на подушке была, как восковая. На мгновение ее охватил ужас, не умер ли он внезапно, она даже тронула его кисть, мягкую и теплую. Когда она разогнулась, то почувствовала боль в плече. "Тяжелая голова",- шепнула она, глядя на спящего, и тихо вышла из комнаты, унося неудачный свой подарок. Горничную, встреченную в коридоре, она просила Лужина разбудить через час и, беззвучно спустившись по лестнице, направилась по солнечным улицам в теннисный клуб,- и поймала себя на том, что все еще старается не шуметь, не делать резких движений. Горничной будить Лужина не пришлось,- он проснулся сам и сразу начал усиленно вспоминать прелестный сон, который ему приснился,- зная по опыту, что, если сразу не начнешь вспоминать, то уже потом будет поздно. А видел он во сне, будто странно сидит,- посредине комнаты,- и вдруг, с нелепой и блаженной внезапностью, присущей снам, входит его невеста, протягивая коробку, перевязанную красной ленточкой. Одета она тоже по моде сновидений,- белое платье, беззвучные белые туфли. Он хотел обнять ее, но вдруг затошнило, закружилась голова, невеста тем временем рассказывала, что необычайно пишут о нем в газетах, но что мать все-таки не хочет, чтобы они поженились. Вероятно, было еще много, много чего, но память не успела догнать уплывавшее,- и, через час, беззвучно спустившись по лестнице, стараясь по крайней мере не растерять того, что ему удалось вырвать у сновидения, Лужин осторожно задвигался, пригладил волосы, позвонил, чтобы принесли ему обед. После обеда пришлось засесть за игру, и в этот день мир шахматных представлений проявил ужасную власть. Он играл без передышки четыре часа и победил, но, когда уже сел в таксомотор, то по пути забыл, куда отправляется, забыл, какой адрес дал прочесть шоферу ("...вас вечером"), и с интересом ждал, где автомобиль остановится.
An explanation of all that was happening came one morning when he was sitting on a chair in the middle of his hotel room and trying to concentrate his thoughts on one thing alone: yesterday he had won his tenth point and today he had to beat Moser. Suddenly his fiancee entered the room, “just like a little idol," she laughed. “Sitting in the middle while sacrificial gifts are brought to him." She stretched out a box of chocolates to him and suddenly the laughter disappeared from her face. “Luzhin," she cried. “Luzhin, wake up! What’s the matter with you?" “Are you real?" asked Luzhin softly and unbelievingly. “Of course I’m real. What a thing to do, putting your chair in the middle of the room and sitting there. If you don’t rouse yourself immediately Lm leaving." Luzhin obediently roused himself, moving his shoulders and head about, then transferred his seat to the couch, and a happiness that was not quite sure of itself, not quite settled, shone and swam in his eyes. “Tell me, when will this end?" she asked. “How many games to go?“ “Three,” replied Luzhin. “I read today in the newspaper that you are bound to win the tournament, that this time you are playing extraordinarily.” “But there’s Turati,” said Luzhin and raised his finger. “I feel sick to my stomach,” he added mournfully. “Then no candies for you,” she said quickly and tucked the square package under her arm again. “Luzhin, I’m going to call a doctor. You’ll simply die if it goes on like this.” “No, no,” he said sleepily. “It’s already passed. There’s no need for a doctor.” “It worries me. That means till Friday, till Saturday . . . this hell. And at home things are pretty grim. Everyone’s agreed with Mamma that I mustn’t marry you. Why were you feeling sick, have you eaten something or other?” “It’s gone, completely,” muttered Luzhin and put his head down on her shoulder. “You’re simply very tired, poor boy. Are you really going to play today?” “At three o’clock. Against Moser. In general I’m playing . . . how did they put it?”extraordinarily.” She smiled. The head lying on her shoulder was large, heavy— a precious apparatus with a complex, mysterious mechanism. A minute later she noticed that he had fallen asleep and she began to think how to transfer his head to some cushion or other. With extremely careful movements she managed to do it; he was now hall lying on the couch, uncomfortably doubled up, and the head on the pillow was waxen. For a moment she was seized with horror lest he had died suddenly and she even felt his wrist, which was soft and warm. When she straightened up she felt a twinge cd pain in her shoulder. “A heavy head,” she whispered as she looked at the sleeper, and quietly left the room, taking her unsuccessful present with her. She asked the chambermaid she met in the corridor to wake Luzhin in an hour, and descending the stairs soundlessly she set off through sunlit streets to the tennis club— and caught herself still trying not to make a noise or any sharp movements. The chambermaid did not have to wake Luzhin— he awoke by himself and immediately made strenuous efforts to recall the delightful dream he had dreamed, knowing from experience that if you didn’t begin immediately to recall it, later would be too late. He had dreamed he was sitting strangely —in the middle of the room— and suddenly, with the absurd and blissful suddenness usual in dreams, his fiancée entered holding out a package tied with red ribbon. She was dressed also in the style of dreams--in a white dress and soundless white shoes. He wanted to embrace her, but suddenly felt sick, his head whirled, and she in the meantime related that the newspapers were writing extraordinary things about him but that her mother still did not want them to marry. Probably there was much more of this and that, but his memory failed to overtake what was receding— and trying at least not to disperse what he had managed to wrest from his dream, Luzhin stirred cautiously, smoothed down his hair and rang for dinner to be brought. After dinner he had to play, and that day the universe of chess concepts revealed an awesome power. He played four hours without pause and won, but when he was already sitting in the taxi he forgot on the way where it was he was going, what postcard address he had given the driver to read and awaited with interest to see where the car would stop. (Chapter Eight)
When Luzhin gets well after his breakdown, his fiancée visits him at the hospital:
Так Лужин вернулся обратно из долгого путешествия, растеряв по дороге большую часть багажа, и лень было восстанавливать пропажу. Эти первые дни выздоровления были тихи и плавны; женщины в белом вкусно кормили его; приходил обворожительный бородач, и говорил приятные вещи, и смотрел агатовым взглядом, который теплом разливался по телу. Вскоре Лужин стал замечать, что в комнате бывает еще кто-то,- трепетное, неуловимое присутствие. Раз, когда он проснулся, кто-то беззвучно и торопливо уходил, как бы знакомый шёпот возник рядом и сразу погас. И в разговоре бородатого друга стали мелькать намеки на что-то таинственное и счастливое; оно было в воздухе вокруг него, и в осенней прелести окна, и дрожало где-то за дверью,- загадочное, увертливое счастье. И Лужин постепенно стал понимать, что райская пустота, в которой витают его прозрачные мысли, со всех сторон заполняется. Но ему повезло: первым явилось наиболее счастливое видение его жизни.
Предупрежденный о близости прекрасного события, он смотрел сквозь решетку изголовья на белую дверь и ждал, что вот сейчас она откроется, и сбудется наконец предсказание. Но дверь не открывалась. Вдруг сбоку, вне поля его зрения, что-то шелохнулось. Под прикрытием большой ширмы кто-то стоял и смеялся. "Иду, иду, один момент",- забормотал Лужин, высвобождая ноги из-под простыни и вытаращенными глазами ища под стулом, рядом с постелью, какой-нибудь обуви. "Никуда вы не пойдете",- сказал голос, и розовое платье мгновенно заполнило пустоту.
Thus Luzhin came back from a long journey, having lost en route the greater part of his luggage, and it was too much bother to restore what was lost. These first days of recovery were quiet and smooth: women in white gave him tasty food to eat; the bewitching bearded man came and said nice things to him and looked at him with his agate gaze, which bathed one’s body in warmth. Shortly Luzhin began to notice that there was someone else in the room— a palpitating, elusive presence. Once when he woke up someone noiselessly and hastily went away, and once when he half dozed, someone’s extremely light and apparently familiar whisper started beside him and immediately stopped. And hints began to flicker in the bearded man’s conversation about something mysterious and happy; it was in the air around him and in the autumn beauty of the window, and it trembled somewhere behind the tree— an enigmatic, evasive happiness. And Luzhin gradually began to realize that the heavenly void in which his transparent thoughts floated was being filled in from all sides.
Warned of the imminence of a wonderful event, he looked through the railed head of his bed at the white door and waited for it to open and the prediction to come true. But the door did not open. Suddenly, to one side, beyond his field of vision, something stirred. Under the cover of a large screen someone was standing and laughing. ‘‘I’m coming, Tin coming, just a moment,” muttered Luzhin, freeing his legs from the sheet and looking with bulging eyes under the chair beside the bed for something to put on his feet. ‘‘You’re not going anywhere,” said a voice and a pink dress instantaneously filled the void. (Chapter Ten)
At the end of VN’s novel Luzhin commits suicide by falling down from the bathroom window. In LATH the lady at a literary soiree asks Vadim Vadimovich if the Pawn and the Queen in his new novel would really defenestrate the poor chess player:
The editor of Patria, the émigré monthly in which Pawn Takes Queen had begun to be serialized, invited "Irida Osipovna" and me to a literary samovar. I mention it only because this was one of the few salons that my unsociability deigned to frequent. Iris helped with the sandwiches. I smoked my pipe and observed the feeding habits of two major novelists, three minor ones, one major poet, five minor ones of both sexes, one major critic (Demian Basilevski), and nine minor ones, including the inimitable "Prostakov-Skotinin," a Russian comedy name (meaning "simpleton and brute") applied to him by his archrival Hristofor Boyarski.
The major poet, Boris Morozov, an amiable grizzly bear of a man, was asked how his reading in Berlin had gone, and he said: "Nichevo" (a "so-so" tinged with a "well enough") and then told a funny but not memorable story about the new President of the Union of Émigré Writers in Germany. The lady next to me informed me she had adored that treacherous conversation between the Pawn and the Queen about the husband and would they really defenestrate the poor chess player? I said they would but not in the next issue, and not for good: he would live forever in the games he had played and in the multiple exclamation marks of future annotators. I also heard—my hearing is almost on a par with my sight--snatches of general talk such as an explanatory, "She is an Englishwoman," murmured from behind a hand five chairs away by one guest to another. (1.11)
Vadim Vadimovich’s novel Pawn Takes Queen (1927) seems to correspond to VN’s Korol’, dama, valet (“King, Queen, Knave,” 1928) and to “The Luzhin Defense.” Other Books by the Narrator in LATH include See under Real (1939), a novel that corresponds to The Real Life of Sebastian Knight (1941), VN’s first English novel. According to Sebastian’s half-brother V. (the narrator and main character in TRLSK), Sebastian used to draw a small black chess knight to sign his stories.
Vadim’s first wife, Iris Black is English. Her Russian name and patronymic (mentioned in LATH only once), "Irida Osipovna," brings to mind Aleksandr Ivanovich, Luzhin’s name and patronymic that we learn only at the end of VN’s novel:
Дверь выбили. "Александр Иванович, Александр Иванович!" - заревело несколько голосов. Но никакого Александра Ивановича не было.
The door was burst in. ‘'Aleksandr Ivanovich, Aleksandr Ivanovich’ roared several voices.
But there was no Aleksandr Ivanovich. (Chapter Fourteen)