Today, the difference in their temperaments diminishes under Wagner’s influence, because Wagner is Anya’s musical passion. For the duration of the piece, she removes the opera glasses from her eyes, and her excitement makes her even more beautiful, while Claudia seems distracted, far away.

It would be impossible to describe all the differences between the two women, because we would have to enumerate each and every one of their characteristics. But there’s one difference that must be emphasized: Anya is a fictional character and Claudia isn’t. Anya’s cradle was made of ink, Claudia’s had sheets from Seville. Still, it bears noting that Anya is different from other fictional characters because she barely appears in the novel in which she was born, and that gives her personality more breadth. Certain facts are incontrovertible: her mother never loved her the way she loved Sergei, her biological father hardly knew her, her adoptive one (her brother’s father) felt tenderly toward her and wanted to protect her from the moment she was born—when she cried because the wet nurse didn’t have enough milk, it was Karenin who got upset—but her very being also made him feel bitter, frustrated, and humiliated. These combinations of affection and hostility, tenderness and betrayal, and the fact that she’s fictional (though only slightly so) make her a rarity: she’s almost real.

7. What Giorgi, the Karenins’ Coachman, Did

7. What Giorgi, the Karenins’ Coachman, Did

Giorgi, the coachman, heads toward Claudia and Sergei Karenin’s palace. People call the building “Seryozha,” which means “Little Sergei”; wagging tongues claim it was anonymously donated to Karenina’s son, but that’s a pack of lies, because it was bought with Claudia’s dowry.

No sooner has the carriage come to a halt than a woman gets in, her face hidden by a veil.

“Thank you, Giorgi. Thanks.”

“The master and his wife nearly didn’t go.”

“Why? They had another argument?”

“Same as ever.”

“Are you sure you’ve got time to give me a ride?”

“Aleksandra, I’m not going to let you go alone. You have no idea what you’re getting into….”

“Giorgi, I know I asked you to do me a favor, but I don’t want to create problems for you. And I do know what I’m doing.”

“You asked me a very big favor. I’d do anything for you. Especially if you’ll marry me.”

“But Giorgi, you’re already married!”

“Just a little. Not in St. Petersburg….”

“You’re married. Shush.”

“Well, I have to go anyway, I have another mission. I’m giving someone else a ride.”

They take the first eastbound street, and then turn northward. Two blocks farther on, Giorgi stops the carriage. He opens the door.

“Aleksandra, this is the other passenger going to the Haven. Now we’ll get going.” He modifies his tone of voice, as if he were speaking to his employer. “Good evening, Clementine.”