She must smash it, it must be smashed before her ecstasy was consummated, fulfilled for ever.

A thousand lives, a thousand deaths mattered nothing now, only the fulfilment of this perfect ecstasy.
She was not swift, she could only move slowly.

A strong spirit in him woke him and made him lift his face and twist to look at her.

Her arm was raised, the hand clasping the ball of lapis lazuli.

It was her left hand, he realised again with horror that she was left-handed.
Hurriedly, with a burrowing motion, he covered his head under the thick volume of Thucydides, and the blow came down, almost breaking his neck, and shattering his heart.
He was shattered, but he was not afraid.