His decisiveness is not the least bit voluntary; he’s possessed by a sense of resolve when he comes out of the trance the music has put him in. He sees clearly what he’s going to do. His life will change. His features radiate an uncharacteristic certainty. Today I define my future. He feels proud, like a real man, like he’s given birth to himself, jettisoning the inertia of his fictitious nature.

(He doesn’t think it’s unlikely, or impossible, that a being who’s been given a fixed, immutable past can change his own destiny. The future doesn’t fall on top of you like a gravestone. People create their own present, molding it, changing it from what has been in the past. But a being that has a fixed past, a written past, is by definition inert, indecisive, like a figure frozen in musical statues, the children’s game. Someone else dictates the pose they adopt or lets them take a few steps. It’s the music that gives Sergei the very real illusion of being human, the illusion that he can make decisions like anyone else. And he does; he seizes the illusion. He is happy.)

When the concert ends, the three Karenins leave their box. Claudia says hello to some friends, Anya receives numerous compliments—“She’s always the loveliest,” “You never look a day older”—and all the while Sergei stares at his own shoes, lifting his gaze only when Fyodor, the old usher, mutters something as he hands them their coats. Sergei acknowledges the comment, but he doesn’t hear it, which is just as well. Fyodor’s “I always remember your mother” would have been another blow to his spirit.

Back in the carriage, Sergei shifts his gaze from his shoes to the street outside. The two women are chattering away. Sergei doesn’t hear them, caught up in his inner joy: Today my life will change. When they leave Anya at the Karenin Palace, Sergei shrugs his shoulders goodbye. The two women look at each other, stifling their laughter.

“What did I tell you, Anya? It’s the music, see what it does to him, it’s like he’s on another planet.”

Sergei doesn’t hear this comment either, doesn’t even notice their smiles of complicity.

The couple returns home in silence. Giorgi, the coachman, whistles a tune that the noise along the avenue prevents Claudia from hearing.

11. Kapitonich, Hall Porter at the Karenin Palace

11. Kapitonich, Hall Porter at the Karenin Palace