ABSTRACT
We made love, passionately, deeply—both of us starved, as if we had both been dead and found life in each other, and my impotence vanished in a kind of delight and agony, and we talked and wept and dried our tears and made love again. This was the first time I had slept with a woman—barring my failed attempt at Coburg—since Martha’s death, and it was Janet’s first intercourse with a man since she had been raped by a guard at Dachau at age eleven, and kept alive by him and repeatedly beaten and raped during the next nine months before liberation.
