"That is of no importance.
That is a passing thing.
We are together when we lie together."
"Yes, but I am ashamed.
I think it was from when things were done to me that it comes.
Not from thee and me."
"Let us not talk of that."
"Nor do I wish to.
I meant I could not bear to fail thee now on this night and so I sought to excuse myself."
"Listen, rabbit," he said.
"All such things pass and then there is no problem."
But he thought; it was not good luck for the last night.
Then he was ashamed and said,
"Lie close against me, rabbit.
I love thee as much feeling thee against me in here in the dark as I love thee making love."
"I am deeply ashamed because I thought it might be again tonight as it was in the high country when we came down from El Sordo's."
"_Que va_," he said to her.
"That is not for every day.
I like it thus as well as the other."
He lied, putting aside disappointment.
"We will be here together quietly and we will sleep.
Let us talk together.
I know thee very little from talking."
"Should we speak of tomorrow and of thy work?
I would like to be intelligent about thy work."
"No," he said and relaxed completely into the length of the robe and lay now quietly with his cheek against her shoulder, his left arm under her head.
"The most intelligent is not to talk about tomorrow nor what happened today.
In this we do not discuss the losses and what we must do tomorrow we will do.
Thou art not afraid?"
"_Que va_," she said.
"I am always afraid.
But now I am afraid for thee so much I do not think of me."
"Thou must not, rabbit.
I have been in many things.
And worse than this," he lied.
Then suddenly surrendering to something, to the luxury of going into unreality, he said,
"Let us talk of Madrid and of us in Madrid."
"Good," she said. Then, "Oh, Roberto, I am sorry I have failed thee.
Is there not some other thing that I can do for thee?"
He stroked her head and kissed her and then lay close and relaxed beside her, listening to the quiet of the night.
"Thou canst talk with me of Madrid," he said and thought: I'll keep any oversupply of that for tomorrow.
I'll need all of that there is tomorrow. There are no pine needles that need that now as I will need it tomorrow. Who was it cast his seed upon the ground in the Bible? Onan. How did Onan turn out? he thought. I don't remember ever hearing any more about Onan.
He smiled in the dark.
Then he surrendered again and let himself slip into it, feeling a voluptuousness of surrender into unreality that was like a sexual acceptance of something that could come in the night when there was no understanding, only the delight of acceptance.
"My beloved," he said, and kissed her.
"Listen.
The other night I was thinking about Madrid and I thought how I would get there and leave thee at the hotel while I went up to see people at the hotel of the Russians.
But that was false.
I would not leave thee at any hotel."
"Why not?"