“Tania...you and I had only one moment..."said Alexander. "A single moment in time, in your time and mine...one instant, when another life could have still been possible." He kissed her lips. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"(When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street.)"I know that moment," whispered Tatiana.”

“Tatiana...you and I had only one moment..." said Alexander. "A single moment in time, in your time and mine...one instant, when another life could have still been possible." He kissed her lips. "Do you know what I'm talking about?" When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street."I know that moment," whispered Tatiana.”

“When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street.”

“She paused when he did not speak. "I know what I would do if I were you." Frantically, Tatiana chewed her lip. It was love or truth.Love won.Steeling herself, she said, "Yes," in a fragment of a voice. "I would choose America over you."Alexander broke down. "Come here, you lying wife," he said, bringing her close, encompassing her.”

“I give you," said Alexander, glancing at her, "what you need most from me.”

“You're the last line of defense. When you're dead, Hitler will march through Leningrad the way he marched through Paris. Do you remember that?' 'That's not fair. The French didn't fight,' Tatiana said, wanting to be anywhere right now but standing in front of men loading artwork from the Hermitage onto armored trucks. 'They didn't fight, Tania, but you will fight. For every street and for every building. And when you lose--' 'The art will be saved.' 'Yes! The art will be saved,' Alexander said emotionally. 'And another artist will paint a glorious picture, immortalizing you, with a club in your raised hand, swinging to hit the German tank as it's about to crush you, all against the backdrop of the statue of Peter the Great atop his bronze horse. And that picture will hang in the Hermitage, and at the start of the next war the curator will once again stand on the street, crying over his vanishing crates.”

“Tatiana said. "Go on with Dasha. She is right for you. She is a woman and I'm-" "Blind!", Alexander exclaimed. Tatiana stood, desolately failing in the battle of her heart. "Oh, Alexander. What do you want from me..." "Everything", he whispered fiercely.”