QUOTE : They could not speak. To be in Alexander’s arms, to smell him, to hear his breathing, his voice again… Shh, shh, he was still whispering and holding her, pulling off her hat, her hairnet, her hairpins, letting her black hair fall down. His hands were in it. His eyes were closed. Perhaps he was imagining her hair was not black but blonde again. The way Alexander was touching her now, she could tell that he was blind and had not yet learned to see—he was holding her in that impossible choke that had to do not quite with love or passion, but somehow with both and with neither. The embrace wasn’t an alloy, it was a conflagration of anguish and bitter relief and fear. Tatiana could tell Alexander would like to have spoken more, but he couldn’t, and so he sat on the hay with his legs open, while she kneeled in front of him, folded into his arms, and every once in a while from his shuddering body would come a Shh, shh… Not for her. Not for Tatiana. For himself. Continuing to hold her, Alexander lowered her onto the straw. His trembling limbs surrounded her. Tatiana was barely breathing, her own body convulsing. To rage, to quell— They didn’t know what to do—to undress? To stay clothed? She couldn’t move, nor want to. His lips were on her neck, her clavicles, he was clawing at her, ripping open her tunic, baring her breasts to his desperate gasping mouth. She wanted to whisper his name, to moan maybe. Tears kept trickling down her temples. He removed from himself and her only what was necessary. He didn’t so much enter her as break her open. Her mouth remained in a mute screaming O, her hands clutched him, not close enough, and through the whisper of grief, through the cry of desire, Tatiana felt that Alexander, in his complete abandon, was making love to her as if he were being pulled from the cross to which he was still attached by nails. His gripping her, his ferocious, unremitting movement was so intense that Tatiana felt consciousness yield to— Oh my God, Shura, please…she mouthed inaudibly. But it could not be any other way. Violent release came for Alexander at the expense of Tatiana’s momentary lapse of reason, as she cried out, her pleas carrying through the barn, to the basin, to the river, to the sky. He remained on top of her without moving, without pulling away. His body was shaking. He couldn’t be any closer. She held him closer still…And then… Shh, shh. That wasn’t Alexander. That was Tatiana. They both fell asleep. Still they hadn’t spoken.