“What could she be referring to? Is she replying to the note Vronsky wrote on the folded calling card? Is she talking about opium?”

Claudia is terribly excited—secrets thrill her even more than love stories. She’s strung-out because she hasn’t slept a wink, but she must read on to find out what she wants to know.

“Will she mention the opium? That must be what she’s talking about!”

She summons the energy to begin reading aloud in a low voice:

“The first time I got to know you, in the biblical sense, I was pained and ashamed of myself. Not just because I had committed adultery; I have always found the conjugal act unpleasant. I never wanted to with my son’s father. I was simply fulfilling my duty to him; I closed my eyes, and it was over soon enough, like most other bodily functions. It was like sweating beneath a heavy coat. But with you … with you I kept my eyes open. That first time, my desire lay dormant. But in the encounters that followed, I discovered with you, and thanks to you, something I did not know existed: pleasure, the pleasure of two bodies in love. You opened a window inside me that I didn’t even know was there.

“I want to tell you about that window. Unlike the rest of this edifice, instead of opening to the outside, it opened onto myself. Without the window your touch made me aware of—which you taught me to access myself—that window that sees with touch (not with sight) (though you say sight gives you pleasure, I have experienced my greatest ecstasy with my eyes shut, especially at night when there’s no one around, no light), I would never have known a whole continent within myself. It’s not that I’m someone different: the difference is that now I know my own borders. I understand my own body, that my borders extend beyond my own skin, far beyond myself. Getting to know myself is like crossing vast territories that …”

The tight script ends in a broken sentence, as does Claudia’s understanding. This should never be mentioned, she thinks in silence. Is this what The Book of Anna is about too? I don’t know…. But this isn’t part of Tolstoy’s novel, she disobeyed him, just like we have. I wonder if Tolstoy knew? Is that what the book I just read was about?

Claudia is too tired to think clearly. It’s rare that she doesn’t get a good night’s sleep. It’s still pitch-black outside, but there’s movement in the street. Her servants are sweeping the street in front of the house; there are so many pedestrians on Nevsky Prospekt that the rubbish must be cleared from the front of the house every day.