Anissius Tulpanov, the boy who had been his friend for three years was dead, killed by Jack the Ripper, who continued his murders in Moscow. He wanted to hurt her. Erast killed the maniac, practically in front of her eyes. Once. Shot in the head. Two.

She's been walking around for days, watching him closely, but she's not talking. Erast himself sinks into the viscous mud. The house is silent. At night he holds her close to him, almost unconsciously. Erast tries not to show it, but all three of them feel the change. He, She, and Masa.

The snow in Moscow has almost melted, the river has moved, Easter is over. They begin to die off only after a time. Life begins to get back on track. The buds on the trees are budding. There is laughter at the table again, music from the gramophone again. In sleep, his hands stop clenching by themselves. Anissius would not want his boss to grieve for him for too long. Though that's what they say about every dead person.

The sun is shining in Moscow, birds are singing, children are running around. The windows are open in the apartment, the curtains fluttering in the wind. She stands leaning out the window almost halfway, smiling.