carpet upon the earth, and atop this carpet Katrina spread Giles’s blanket. She unpinned her hat and
set it on the blanket, then sat and looked up at Edward, who was watching her private drama play itself out.
“Come and sit,” she said.
“You seem to know exactly what you’re doing,” Edward said. “This is indeed a secret place.”
“I’ve been thinking about it endlessly, ever since your talk with my parents.”
“The hymeneal event,” he said. “Does this mean you finally have an answer to my question?” He took off his coat and sat beside her.
“Put your face near mine,” she said. “I want to know how I’ll react.”
Edward moved close and, when their noses almost touched, he smiled.
“Stop smiling,” she said.
They studied each other’s eyes, mouth, hair. She parted her lips and moved her mouth onto his. She held the kiss, stopped it, withdrew to a distance of inches.
“I like it,” she said.
He took the game away from her and kissed her, as he well knew how to, and she folded herself into a condition for which anterior planning could not have prepared her.
“Oh that is very good,” she said, and she resumed the kiss. When it came to a stillness she stared for a long time at Edward, decisions being made by her eyes and by a
pervasive bodily tension that was thrilling.
“It’s clear,” she said, “that we now have to do the rest. I’ve worn as few garments as possible.”
“The rest?” Edward said.
“I’ve read all about this,” Katrina said. “It’s nineteen days since my time. I now have nine days when I cannot conceive. It’s an ideal moment for the estrus
to strike, and strike it has.”
“This is a very bold act, Katrina.”
“You don’t accept me?”
“I accept with great heart but wild misgiving. We’re marked forever if something happens.”
“I sense the ecstasy I’ve heard about. I want to be certain it exists.”
“I love you for this, Katrina, more than I loved you yesterday, and I didn’t think that possible. You’re a wonder.”
“You’re all the world to me now, Edward. But I must confirm that you are truly real. Do you understand?”
“I don’t think I understand why we’re establishing my reality in the cemetery.”
“We’ll die before we get to it if you don’t shut up,” and she arched her buttocks off the blanket, raised her skirts to her waist, and unbuttoned the top of her dress as
Edward fell on his knees in front of her.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead?” the Angel asked Katrina, and her answer came that, in her, there had taken root the truths of her poet: that death is the divine elixir that
gives us the heart to follow the endless night, that it is the mystical attic, the poor man’s purse, the mocker of kings, the accursed’s balm, the certain loss that vitalizes
possession. She feared it not at all, and chose to behave as if each moment were the ultimate one; and this consistency, to the end of her days, would astonish all who knew her.
Edward, who had won her eye with his brash flirtation, and now was gaining her virginal body, believed he was the privileged one to be given such a sumptuous gift as the mythic ideal that
was Katrina. And he told himself: You, Edward Daugherty, you, now prostrate on this exquisite altar, you own a fortunate heart.
After a time that he would remember not by its length but by the intensity of his joy, he felt and heard her approaching her peak, felt it also in himself, and he moved out from her sweet place
to spill his seed on the carpet of brown pine needles; for God can be tempted only so far.
“Are you always so cautious with life?” Katrina asked.
“I don’t want to lose you, now that I have you,” he said.
“Because you did that, did you love me less?”
“Because you court danger,” he replied, “do you love me more?”
“You don’t understand,” Katrina said.
“Perhaps it’s you who don’t understand.”
“We’ll marry in the
set it on the blanket, then sat and looked up at Edward, who was watching her private drama play itself out.
“Come and sit,” she said.
“You seem to know exactly what you’re doing,” Edward said. “This is indeed a secret place.”
“I’ve been thinking about it endlessly, ever since your talk with my parents.”
“The hymeneal event,” he said. “Does this mean you finally have an answer to my question?” He took off his coat and sat beside her.
“Put your face near mine,” she said. “I want to know how I’ll react.”
Edward moved close and, when their noses almost touched, he smiled.
“Stop smiling,” she said.
They studied each other’s eyes, mouth, hair. She parted her lips and moved her mouth onto his. She held the kiss, stopped it, withdrew to a distance of inches.
“I like it,” she said.
He took the game away from her and kissed her, as he well knew how to, and she folded herself into a condition for which anterior planning could not have prepared her.
“Oh that is very good,” she said, and she resumed the kiss. When it came to a stillness she stared for a long time at Edward, decisions being made by her eyes and by a
pervasive bodily tension that was thrilling.
“It’s clear,” she said, “that we now have to do the rest. I’ve worn as few garments as possible.”
“The rest?” Edward said.
“I’ve read all about this,” Katrina said. “It’s nineteen days since my time. I now have nine days when I cannot conceive. It’s an ideal moment for the estrus
to strike, and strike it has.”
“This is a very bold act, Katrina.”
“You don’t accept me?”
“I accept with great heart but wild misgiving. We’re marked forever if something happens.”
“I sense the ecstasy I’ve heard about. I want to be certain it exists.”
“I love you for this, Katrina, more than I loved you yesterday, and I didn’t think that possible. You’re a wonder.”
“You’re all the world to me now, Edward. But I must confirm that you are truly real. Do you understand?”
“I don’t think I understand why we’re establishing my reality in the cemetery.”
“We’ll die before we get to it if you don’t shut up,” and she arched her buttocks off the blanket, raised her skirts to her waist, and unbuttoned the top of her dress as
Edward fell on his knees in front of her.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead?” the Angel asked Katrina, and her answer came that, in her, there had taken root the truths of her poet: that death is the divine elixir that
gives us the heart to follow the endless night, that it is the mystical attic, the poor man’s purse, the mocker of kings, the accursed’s balm, the certain loss that vitalizes
possession. She feared it not at all, and chose to behave as if each moment were the ultimate one; and this consistency, to the end of her days, would astonish all who knew her.
Edward, who had won her eye with his brash flirtation, and now was gaining her virginal body, believed he was the privileged one to be given such a sumptuous gift as the mythic ideal that
was Katrina. And he told himself: You, Edward Daugherty, you, now prostrate on this exquisite altar, you own a fortunate heart.
After a time that he would remember not by its length but by the intensity of his joy, he felt and heard her approaching her peak, felt it also in himself, and he moved out from her sweet place
to spill his seed on the carpet of brown pine needles; for God can be tempted only so far.
“Are you always so cautious with life?” Katrina asked.
“I don’t want to lose you, now that I have you,” he said.
“Because you did that, did you love me less?”
“Because you court danger,” he replied, “do you love me more?”
“You don’t understand,” Katrina said.
“Perhaps it’s you who don’t understand.”
“We’ll marry in the
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