At the same time, in Sergei and Claudia’s house, in the room next to Sergei’s, Claudia lies in bed thinking, It’s my fault, mine. I’m the one who convinced Sergei to sell the portrait of his mother. I’m the one who’s giving the painting of Tolstoy’s character to the tsar. Sergei didn’t want to. I, I … Am I reprehensible? Everything appears different now from how it did when we accepted…. Our Russia is a different country….

She tries to calm down by telling herself, What Tolstoy said was just a dream, this wouldn’t matter a fig to him. But it doesn’t calm her; it doesn’t work. According to Lantur (the cook), dreams speak truth…. Enough! She’s the cook, what does she know? … But she’s right, she’s right.

She tries not to think, to go to sleep. In the anxiety of this unfamiliar insomnia, her remorse is eating away at her. Claudia gets out of bed, takes her lamp, and goes downstairs to Sergei’s study.

She enters his study and lights three bright lamps, which illuminate the portrait in all its splendor. The magnificent, lovely Anna Karenina, never more beautiful, is the sun at midnight. Claudia has her back to it because of the way the lamps are positioned. She’s still holding the base of the third lamp when she sees the box covered in blue cloth, which she found next to the portrait in the attic, on a stool next to the chair of Sergei’s desk.

“How could I have forgotten about this,” she says to herself. “I haven’t laid eyes on it since I brought it down from the attic.”

She picks up the box and puts it on the desk. She undoes the ribbon, tied in a bow that keeps it shut. Once white, it has yellowed over the years. When she unties it, its different shades are visible.

“This ribbon has seen better days, it’s been marking time….”

Inside the box is the manuscript that Anna Karenina wrote when she was at her very happiest. Beautifully bound in leather, it submits to Claudia’s touch. She takes it out, places it on the desk, and sets her lamp nearby to read. Then she sees there’s another manuscript at the bottom of the box, thinner and written in a smaller script on loose sheets. On the first page, she reads: