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bout？
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'