Despite the Falling Snow Read Online Free PDF

the room, stepping through the whirling dancers like a man who has plunged into a stormy lake and is determined to make it to the other side.
    “Her name is Katya,” Misha calls after him, but there is no acknowledgement from Alexander, who is crossing the room with the solid, blind steps of a sleepwalker.
    He is halfway to her when he catches sight of himself in a large, slightly tarnished mirror that was once imposing, and that is mounted on the wall to his side. He does not stop, but is taken aback at the sight of the smart, confident-looking young man who looks back at him. His hair is short and neat, his eyes large, with long lashes. His chin shadowed and strong. The poised, purposeful reflection is unrecognisable to him, because inwardly his heart is pumping so loudly that he can no longer hear much of the music, and he can feel the dry taste of nervousness in his mouth. In a moment, he is standing before her, and she is looking up at him, with the same intent, evaluating stare that she gave to the guitar player a few moments ago. Alexander says nothing, and she waits, somewhat expectantly, for him to speak, but after a short, stiff bow, he offers her only his hand. He is faintly aware that her companions are giggling, made nervous by his intensity, and he begins to feel ridiculous, just standing there, holding out his hand and waiting, especially when he realises that she is not going to take it. The very same moment that he begins to withdraw, however, is the moment that she reaches out. He looks down, watches her slender fingers lying lightly on his palm, and he closes his own fingers over them. The moment feels absurdly romantic to him, but when he glances to her face for recognition of this, her dark eyes only hold an amused, aloof look, and he feels instantly chastened. But he lifts his hand, gently, and she acquiesces and walks with him to the middle of the room where the dancing is, and there they move together, easily. He can hardly feel her against him – she is as light and insubstantial as a shadow, and he looks at her and realizes that this is because she is moving with such unconscious elegance, such unconsidered grace, that he has to prevent himself from stopping to watch. He can feel the heat of her against his palm, and he tries to partner her well, to keep up, although he is not quite sure how, since he can hardly hear the music through the pounding of his heart in his ears.
    When the music dies away, it is she that pulls him gently aside. They have remained together there for some moments after the music has finished, and she waits for him to lead her away from the dancers, but the silent, solemn young man seems unaware that the song has ended. She bites her lower lip, uncertain of what to do next. He has said not one word to her yet, which strikes her as odd; and although something about his boldness and resolution has attracted her this far, now she feels her customary sense of cautiousness returning.
    “Thank you,” she tells him, politely, with a hint of dismissal in her voice that seems to jolt him finally into speech.
    “Have a drink with me?” he says.
    She glances back to the group she has just left. She does not feel like returning to their jokes and giggles and gossip – not just yet. She looks at Alexander and nods, then, taking his hand once more, she steers him back towards the long tables at Misha’s end of the room that serve as a bar. They pass Misha on the way, and Katya smiles at him in recognition, but does not stop to talk for she is preoccupied and sees him only vaguely, as though he were a familiar painting that she is passing while walking quickly through a gallery. When they reach the table, she asks the girl who is watching over the bottles to pour two drinks.
    She hands Alexander one glass and picks up the other.
    “You are the strangest person I have ever met. And yet,” she hesitates.
    “And yet?”
    “There is something about you that is almost