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happy。　And　again　she　pictured　Tomas　as　if　he　were　one　of　her　paintings：　Don　Juan　in　the　foreground；　a　specious　stage…set　by　a　naive　painter；　and　through　a　crack　in　the　set—Tristan。　He　died　as　Tristan；　not　as　Don　Juan。　Sabina's　parents　had　died　in　the　same　week。　Tomas　and　Tereza　in　the　same　second。　Suddenly　she　missed　Franz　terribly。
When　she　told　him　about　her　cemetery　walks；　he　gave　a　shiver　of　disgust　and　called　cemeteries　bone　and　stone　dumps。　A　gulf　of　misunderstanding　had　immediately　opened　between　them。　Not　until　that　day　at　the　Montparnasse　Cemetery　did　she　see　what　he　meant。　She　was　sorry　to　have　been　so　impatient　with　him。　Perhaps　if　they　had　stayed　together　longer；　Sabina　and　Franz　would　have　begun　to　understand　the　words　they　used。　Gradually；　timorously；　their　vocabularies　would　have　come　together；　like　bashful　lovers；　and　the　music　of　one　would　have　begun　to　intersect　with　the　music　of　the　other。　But　it　was　too　late　now。
Yes；　it　was　too　late；　and　Sabina　knew　she　would　leave　Paris；　move　on；　and　on　again；　because　were　she　to　die　here　they　would　cover　her　up　with　a　stone；　and　in　the　mind　of　a　woman　for　whom　no　place　is　home　the　thought　of　an　end　to　all　flight　is　unbearable。
11
All　Franz's　friends　knew　about　Marie…Claude；　they　all　knew　about　the　girl　with　the　oversized　glasses。　But　no　one　knew　about　Sabina。　Franz　was　wrong　when　he　thought　his　wife　had　told　her　friends　about　her。　Sabina　was　a　beautiful　woman；　and　Marie…Claude　did　not　want　people　going　about　comparing　their　faces。
Because　Franz　was　so　afraid　of　being　found　out；　he　had　never　asked　for　any　of　Sabina's　paintings　or　drawings　or　even　a　snapshot　of　her。　As　a　result；　she　disappeared　from　his　life　without　a　trace。　There　was　not　a　scrap　of　tangible　evidence　to　show　that　he　had　spent　the　most　wonderful　year　of　his　life　with　her。
Which　only　increased　his　desire　to　remain　faithful　to　her。
Sometimes　when　they　were　alone　in　his　flat　together；　the　girl　would　lift　her　eyes　from　a　book；　throw　him　an　inquiring　glance；　and　say；　What　are　you　thinking　about？　
Sitting　in　his　armchair；　staring　up　at　the　ceiling；　Franz　always　found　some　plausible　response；　but　in　fact　he　was　thinking　of　Sabina。
Whenever　he　published　an　article　in　a　scholarly　journal；　the　girl　was　the　first　to　read　it　and　discuss　it　with　him。　But　all　he　could　think　of　was　what　Sabina　would　have　said　about　it。　Everything　he　did；　he　did　for　Sabina；　the　way　Sabina　would　have　liked　to　see　it　done。
It　was　a　perfectly　innocent　form　of　infidelity　and　one　eminently　suited　to　Franz；　who　would　never　have　done　his　bespectacled　student…mistress　any　harm。　He　nourished　the　cult　of　Sabina　more　as　religion　than　as　love。
Indeed；　according　to　the　theology　of　that　religion　it　was　Sabina　who　had　sent　him　the　girl。　Between　his　earthly　love　and　his　unearthly　love；　therefore；　there　was　perfect　peace。　And　if　unearthly　love　must　（for　theological　reasons）　contain　a　strong　dose　of　the　inexplicable　and　incomprehensible　（we　have　only　to　recall　the　dictionary　of　misunderstood　words　and　the　long　lexicon　of　misunderstandings！）；　his　earthly　love　rested　on　true　understanding。
The　student…mistress　was　much　younger　than　Sabina；　and　the　musical　composition　of　her　life　had　scarcely　been　outlined；　she　was　grateful　to　Franz　for　the　motifs　he　gave　her　to　insert。　Franz's　Grand　March　was　now　her　creed　as　well。　Music　was　now　her　Dionysian　intoxication。　They　often　went　dancing　together。　They　lived　in　truth；　and　nothing　they　did　was　secret。　They　sought　out　the　company　of　friends；　colleagues；　students；　and　strangers；　and　enjoyed　sitting；　drinking；　and　chatting　with　them。　They　took　frequent　excursions　to　the　Alps。　Franz　would　bend　over；　the　girl　hopped　onto　his　back；　and　off　he　ran　through　the　meadows；　declaiming　at　the　top　of　his　voice　a　long　German　poem　his　mother　had　taught　him　as　a　child。　The　girl　laughed　with　glee；　admiring　his　legs；　shoulders；　and　lungs　as　she　clasped　his　neck。
The　only　thing　she　could　not　quite　fathom　was　the　curious　sympathy　he　had　for　the　countries　occupied　by　the　Russian　empire。　On　the　anniversary　of　the　invasion；　they　attended　a　memorial　meeting　organized　by　a　Czech　group　in　Geneva。
The　room　was　nearly　empty。　The　speaker　had　artificially　waved　gray　hair。　He　read　out　a　long　speech　that　bored　even　the　few　enthusiasts　who　had　come　to　hear　it。　His　French　was　grammatically　correct　but　heavily　accented。　From　time　to　time；　to　stress　a　point；　he　would　raise　his　index　finger；　as　if　threatening　the　audience。
The　girl　with　the　glasses　could　barely　suppress　her　yawns；　while　Franz　smiled　blissfully　at　her　side。　The　longer　he　looked　at　the　pleasing　gray…haired　man　with　the　admirable　index　finger；　the　more　he　saw　him　as　a　secret　messenger；　an　angelic　intermediary　between　him　and　his　goddess。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　dreamed。　He　closed　his　eyes　as　he　had　closed　them　on　Sabina's　body　in　fifteen　European　hotels　and　one　in　America。

PART　FOUR
Soul　and　Body

1
When　Tereza　came　home；　it　was　almost　half　past　one　in　the　morning。　She　went　into　the　bathroom；　put　on　her　pajamas；　and　lay　down　next　to　Tomas。　He　was　asleep。　She　leaned　over　his　face　and；　kissing　it；　detected　a　curious　aroma　coming　from　his　hair。　She　took　another　whiff　and　yet　another。　She　sniffed　him　up　and　down　like　a　dog　before　realizing　what　it　was：　the　aroma　of　a　woman's　sex　organs。
At　six　the　alarm　went　off。　Karenin's　great　moment　had　arrived。　He　always　woke　up　much　earlier　than　they　did；　but　did　not　dare　to　disturb　them。　He　would　wait　impatiently　for　the　alarm；　because　it　gave　him　the　right　to　jump　up　on　their　bed；　trample　their　bodies；　and　butt　them　with　his　muzzle。　For　a　time　they　had　tried　to　curb　him　and　pushed　him　off　the　bed；　but　he　was　more　headstrong　than　they　were　and　ended　by　defending　his　rights。　Lately；　Tereza　realized；　she　positively　enjoyed　being　welcomed　into　the　day　by　Karenin。　Waking　up　was　sheer　delight　for　him：　he　always　showed　a　naive　and　simple　amazement　at　the　discovery　that　he　was　back　on　earth；　he　was　sincerely　pleased。　She；　on　the　other　hand；　awoke　with　great　reluctance　with　a　desire　to　stave　off　the　day　by　keeping　her　eyes　closed。
Now　he　was　standing　in　the　entrance　hall；　gazing　up　at　the　hat　stand；　where　his　leash　and　collar　hung　ready。　She　slipped　his　head　through　the　collar；　and　off　they　went　together　to　do　the　shopping。　She　needed　to　pick　up　some　milk；　butter；　and　bread　and；　as　usual；　his　morning　roll。　Later；　he　trotted　back　alongside　her；　roll　in　mouth；　looking　proudly　from　side　to　side；　gratified　by　the　attention　he　attracted　from　the　passersby。
Once　home；　he　would　stretch　out　with　his　roll　on　the　threshold　of　the　bedroom　and　wait　for　Tomas　to　take　notice　of　him；　creep　up　to　him；　snarl　at　him；　and　make　believe　he　was　trying　to　snatch　his　roll　away　from　him。　That　was　how　it　went　every　day。　Not　until　they　had　chased　each　other　through　the　flat　for　at　least　five　minutes　would　Karenin　scramble　under　a　table　and　gobble　up　the　roll。
This　time；　however；　he　waited　in　vain　for　his　morning　ritual。　Tomas　had　a　small　transistor　radio　on　the　table　in　front　of　him　and　was　listening　to　it　intently。
2
It　was　a　program　about　the　Czech　emigration；　a　montage　of　private　conversations　recorded　with　the　latest　bugging　devices　by　a　Czech　spy　who　had　infiltrated　the　emigre　community　and　then　returned　in　great　glory　to　Prague。　It　was　insignificant　prattle　dotted　with　some　harsh　words　about　the　occupation　regime；　but　here　and　there　one　emigre　would　call　another　an　imbecile　or　a　fraud。　These　trivial　remarks　were　the　point　of　the　broadcast。　They　were　meant　to　prove　not　merely　that　emigres　had　bad　things　to　say　about　the　Soviet　Union　（which　neither　surprised　nor　upset　anyone　in　the　country）；　but　that　they　call　one　another　names　and　make　free　use　of　dirty　words。　People　use　filthy　language　all　day　long；　but　when　they　turn　on　the　radio　and　hear　a　well…known　personality；　someone　they　respect；　saying　fuck　in　every　sentence；　they　feel　somehow　let　down。
It　all　started　with　Prochazka；　said　Tomas。
Jan　Prochazka；　a　forty…year…old　Czech　novelist　with　the　strength　and　vitality　of　an　ox；　began　criticizing　public　affairs　vociferously　even　before　1968。　He　then　became　one　of　the　best…loved　figures　of　the　Prague　Spring；　that　dizzying　liberalization　of　Communism　which　ended　with　the　Russian　invasion。　Shortly　after　the　invasion　the　press　initiated　a　smear　campaign　against　him；　but　the　more　they　smeared；　the　more　people　liked　him。　Then　（in　1970；　to　be　exact）　the　Czech　radio　broadcast　a　series　of　private　talks　between　Prochazka　and　a　professor　friend　of　his　which　had　taken　place　two　years　before　（that　is；　in　the　spring　of　1968）。　For　a　long　time；　neither　of　them　had　any　idea　that　the　professor's　flat　was　bugged　and　their　every　step　dogged。　Prochazka　loved　to　regale　his　friends　with　hyperbole　and　excess。　Now　his　excesses　had　become　a　weekly　radio　series。　The　secret　police；　who　produced　and　directed　the　show；　took　pains　to　emphasize　the　sequences　in　which　Prochazka　made　fun　of　his　friends—Dubcek；　for　instance。　People　slander　their　friends　at　the　drop　of　a　hat；　but　they　were　more　shocked　by　the　much…loved　Prochazka　than　by　the　much…hated　secret　police。
Tomas　turned　off　the　radio　and　said；　Every　country　has　its　secret　police。　But　a　secret　police　that　broadcasts　its　tapes　over　the　radio—there's　something　that　could　happen　only　in　Prague；　something　absolutely　without　precedent！　
I　know　a　precedent；　said　Tereza。　When　I　was　fourteen　I　kept　a　secret　diary。　I　was　terrified　that　someone　might　read　it　so　I　kept　it　hidden　in　the　attic。　Mother　sniffed　it　out。　One　day　at　dinner；　while　we　were　all　hunched　over　our　soup；　she　took　it　out　of　her　pocket　and　said；　'Listen　carefully　now；　everybody！'　And　after　every　sentence；　she　burst　out　laughing。　They　all　laughed　so　hard　they　couldn't　eat。　
3
He　always　tried　to　get　her　to　stay　in　bed　and　let　him　have　breakfast　alone。　She　never　gave　in。　Tomas　was　at　work　from　seven　to　four；　Tereza　from　four　to　midnight。　If　she　were　to　miss　breakfast　with　him；　the　only　time　they　could　actually　talk　together　was　on　Sundays。　That　was　why　she　got　up　when　he　did　and　then　went　back　to　bed。
This　morning；　however；　she　was　afraid　of　going　back　to　sleep；　because　at　ten　she　was　due　at　the　sauna　on　Zofin　Island。　The　sauna；　though　coveted　by　the　many；　could　accommodate　only　the　few；　and　t