"Lara Delage-Toriel"?

This slightly-off lac-lemanish Laura, like so many others determined to babble on in public about this matter, eager to find their names in print (while those who know better remain carefully silent)  makes one think there has been a misprint. For Dmitri Nabokov realizes that, at this point,  because of the  “après moi, la Delage" problem, he has no real choice any longer, he can’t leave it to her, or any of the other subscribers to the Zemblan website, with their memories, and their jostlings for attention, and there is no turning back, he's got to get what's on those index-cards properly published while he can oversee and curate the whole business. As for that Delage whom he once apparently had trusted turns out to be, forsooth, a prattling Lalage, a Lalage unredeemed by that final Toriel, or little tower, the one just down the road, beyond the side-by-side tombstones in Clarens, on that same -- this is where we came in, isn't it -- cloudless lake.