One other person asks to come and see it: Vsevolozhsky’s wife, Ekaterina Dmitrievna, née Volkonsky. Because she’s not involved in the negotiations and has nothing to hide, she bursts into tears when she sees it. She doesn’t say a single word. The next day she sends a gift hamper decorated with cut flowers to the Karenins. It’s full of sweets and delicacies that Claudia sends immediately to Anya in another container, because the basket is just too lovely and the flowers that decorate it make three arrangements for the table. Claudia makes a smaller one, which she wraps in purple paper, and sends it over to Anya that same day.

After the four visits, no one else comes. The functionaries have too many things to do, or at least they should. But the idea of acquiring the canvas isn’t lost in the shuffle. At the end of May, the Karenins receive a letter informing them that the painting will become part of the imperial collection in the second week of June; it will be taken directly to the museum and payment will follow immediately. The no-strings-attached, free money is much more than Sergei and Claudia had expected.

“Shouldn’t we tell Anya about the sale, Sergei? Strictly speaking, it belongs to both of you.”

“Legally speaking it’s mine.”

“I said strictly speaking.”

“You brought the portraits of my mother here because you knew that Anya had absolutely no interest in them. She’s more my father’s child than I am. She doesn’t even remember….”

Sergei never mentions his mother, not even by her name, those two familiar syllables.

“But she had no idea how valuable the painting was. It’s a very expensive piece…. We don’t need the money.”

“That wasn’t what you said when you convinced me to sell the painting.”

“You know Anya lives from hand to mouth.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll settle up by paying for repairs on the Karenin Palace, they’re becoming more urgent every day.”

The Karenin Palace has fallen into disrepair without the attentions of Kapitonich, who awaits his departure for the other world in his bed in the servants’ quarters, refusing all visitors. The cook sends Valeria up with his food, but she can’t stand the old man; she pushes the plates at him like he’s a dog.

“Sergei, if you give her—”

“Out of the question. You know I pay the servants, including the new hall porter. And you pay for her food and her clothes.”

“Fine, fine. I wasn’t asking about that. I thought it was a nice idea. I was going to ask about inviting her to dinner. So we can give her the news.”

“Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.”