think...
- Albert...
- Vladislav Albertovich.
Is she originally German, von Meck?
That's the name of her late husband.
Her maiden name was Frolovskaya.
Are you sure there hasn't been
a mistake?
This is a great deal of money.
This is the reason Nadezhda
Filaretovna preferred not to mail it
but ask me to deliver it
in person.
Believe me, it's not simply a whim
of a rich patroness,
but the appreciation of someone
who truly respects your work.
Your name's spoken in her house
with enormous respect and love.
Your music's considered above any
music that's been written in Russia.
If I have the good fortune to be in
the confidence of the Baroness,
I owe it purely to the fact that
I once had the happy circumstance
of being one of your pupils.
She often asks me questions about
your life, your habits.
She is interested in everything
about you.
Why?
Nadezhda Filaretovna wishes me
to bring back a photograph of you.
Would you be so kind
as to sign it for her.
My photograph?
"Dear Nadezhda Filaretovna!
I wish to thank you
for the more than generous
compensation for the work so modest.
It's very comforting for a musician
who's faced obstacles and reversals
to know that there exist
a few people,
of whom you are one,
who genuinely and warmly
appreciate your work.
May I assure you of my sincere and
respectful devotion. P. Tchaikovsky."
Alyosha, have you ever read
Pushkin's "Eugene Onegin"?
Of course I've read it.
- What's it about?
- It's about this unhappy love affair.
Tell me the story.
A master has a couple of daughters,
they're Tatiana and Olga.
One laughs a whole lot,
it's easy to make her laugh.
It's because of her
that he kills him I think.
Who kills? Kills who?
Eugene Onegin kills the other man...
I don't remember his name.
And she takes her very best pen
and writes to him.
Who... she?
Tatiana. She's mad about him.
She writes him, I love you.
I'll never love anybody else.
- And him?
- Who?
Eugene Onegin. Alyosha!
Are you asleep again?
Why asleep? I'm just trying
to remember.
He's real funny.
He's always saying "Three cards"...
Then the poor man starts to drink.
Do you like it?
Especially when it's quiet.
It's nice.
It's so sad and beautiful.
Because when it gets loud, Nikolai
Grigorievich plays better than you.
And which part do you like best?
Which passage?
Ah... there...
Sing it for me.
Well, let's see...
You tempter... so treacherous...
I'm glad you like my music.
With your ear for music,
you should have been a music critic.
- Whatever you want.
- Let's go to lunch.
- What have you got there?
- A letter for you.
- From the Baroness von Meck?
- No, someone called Miliukova.
Who's she? Do we owe her money?
I don't think so.
It smells of perfume.
Well, read it.
I was so worried for a second.
"My dear Pyotr Ilyich.
I know it's not proper,
for a girl to write a man first.
But I cannot live without you.
I realize that I love you
in a way I've never loved anyone..."
It could be a letter from Tatiana
to Onegin.
"When I was at the Conservatory,
learning to play the piano,
I admired you even then, but I never
would have dared approach you."
She must be a hunchback or ugly.
"I die of sorrow, longing
to see you..."
I wonder what she really looks like?
"...I die of desire to be near
you, to speak to you.
I cannot live without you which is
perhaps why I may kill myself."
Oh Lord!
"Will you let me see you?
May I kiss you just once,
so that I might have that memory
to carry into death!"
What foolishness.
Why have you brought me here?
Just what is this whole thing
all about anyway?
We'll just watch her from
the carriage, that's all.
Well, where is she then?
I'm surprised myself. She sleeps
only two hours after lunch.
Her mother lives with her.
They have a little country house,
some land and woods around it.
They'd be happy to sell it.
- Let's leave.
- Oh, please wait.
They must be some of those
terrorists.