We will save everyone!
We shouted, resisted, insisted
that the legend was fake!
That the weaver could have
woven anything.
But he said that whoever
invented the legend
invented also everything
that will happen to us.
He could have woven anything...
We did not give up. The battle
went on on the chessboard.
We and our rug were at stake.
But we had to give in when Katya
received a medal from the Empress.
The lady-in-waiting Vasilchikova
came in person to present her
with a diamond cross,
for the future which, perhaps,
we held in our hands.
Blood
Then everything happened
all by itself -
We received a pass to the front
from the general.
Early one morning in
September of 1917
we found ourselves in a trench
with the rug.
The director Prokonin-Gorsky
spilled his own blood.
While directing he leaped from the trenches
and threw himself under the enemy horses.
He was struck down with a saber.
He fell on the rug.
When the smoke subsided
and we reached him -
he was dead.
Our priceless rug was
soaked in blood.
Whoever invented it...
invented everything that
will happen to us!
What then, asked Natasha?
Nothing, said Lena.
They had been fooled.
The legend was a fake.
The weaver could have woven anything.
But he made up this particular story,
and they believed it.
We did just what he wanted
us to do, said Natasha.
Whoever invented it, invented also
everything that will happen to us.
We wrapped Prokonin-Gorsky
in the rug and buried him.
Nobody came to the funeral.
Only a strange and imperial woman
appeared suddenly.
Who was she?
Then our actions are part
of the pattern?
Then we were separated for 20 years
and wandered along different roads.
I thought you had died,
said Lena.
And Natasha thought that
Lena had died.
But we found each other.
We were fooled!
That was a rug and this
is a tapestry!
A tapestry is a picture.
A picture could also be seen
as a pattern.
Not as images, but colors,
serrations, lines.
This line points here,
that line points there.
But this line goes here and
that one there not as a pattern
but in order to represent something,
someone's mug.
The reality is... there is
no pattern.
On a rug lines correspond
to other lines,
even if we see a lamb or a swan -
this is right, because in real life
a swan's wing corresponds
to its other wing.
A horn to a horn.
Everything comes in pairs.
Because it is a pattern of nature.
Then our lives, actions and incidents...
are part of the pattern?
No, not a pattern.
A pattern needs an axis.
Everything emanating from this axis
is more or less the same.
But life, with its encounters and
farewells, new loves
produces no pattern...
Or maybe a very intricate pattern,
we don't see the axis...
Where is it?
It can be seen from the stars.
Where is it?
Only from the stars...
This is why they told fortunes
by the stars.
Seen from the stars...
This is why they told fortunes
by the stars.
They say in Paris they still do.
Only from the stars.
Miss... wth a hat there...
Go sleep at the train station.
Lounging about here...
She awoke.
Invented everything
that will happen to us.
Death is inevitable.
I note that you are stepping on...
...frozen ...mother-of-pearl...
spit!
I'm looking only at the tree tops.
- Are you a writer?
- A reader!
Do you wish to come work...
for us?
What did you do before?
- For a while...
-What do you do for money?
You must be very wealthy.
- You must be... very wealthy.
- Occasionally... one or two episodes...
- You steal?
- Just once...
I'm all out of money...
I used to turn pages for a pianist friend
who accompanied a famous singer.
If you'd like...
Like the French horn...
it can do a great frog.
You can't even imagine how
important this was for me.
The accompanist was very famous,
and I got the chance to turn pages
for the Divine One.
He was playing for Her,
you see.
He was over 80, couldn't
see or hear very well,
and he convinced