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Дикая охота короля Стаха

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yesterday's day.''
He grew pale: ''Away with you!
Don't even mention it!''
We said goodbyes and he went off.
Continuing on my way,
l turned round and saw
that he had turned back towards
the cross.
- He saw me and hid.
- Who was it?
l cannot tell you yet.
Wait a little.
Mr. Bielarecki, l beg you,
don't do anything without me.
You should have expressed your views
and not given us puzzles to answer.
Everything is cleared up
easily and logically
only in bad novels.
We're not detectives
from the provincial police.
Wait.
And thank Lord for that!
Wait, Sviecilovic!
Andrej!
There's no one here.
He said, at the old cross.
Did you record it?
Andrej Sviecilovic. former
student of the Kiev University.
Ex-student.
- We can go.
- Drive on!
lt's you?
What's the matter?
What are you doing here?
What's happening, Miss Janowska?
l...
l was hiding.
Each night l hid
in a different room.
l was afraid of everyone, even you.
l very well understand you
and your noble intentions.
But tell me, what would you
do in my place?
Why do you rule out the possibility of
killing because of the beautiful sex?
He was in love with the mistress
of Marsh Firs, wasn't he?
Or perhaps
this was a suicide.
The deceased was
a melancholic fellow,
psychically nervous,
a follower of Bacchus,
and so on
But l've heard it myself.
l respect you as a member
of the Geographic Society,
but this time allow me...
Excuse me, but may l give you
an unofficial advice?
Do not tempt fate.
lt seems that your acquaintance with
the deceased is somewhat suspicious.
He was, to say the least,
you see... well.
l do not wish
to exaggerate things, but...
it's also highly suspicious
of you striving so stubbornly to shift
the attention of the investigation
from the deceased
onto some mythical werewolves.
But l implore you...
not to get angry with me.
Your persistent efforts to hush up
the affair seems very strange
and make people come
to most risky assumptions.
l might regard these words
as insulting the authorities.
God forbid!
But this gives me the right
to appeal
to the higher authorities.
Now you believe in
the Savage Hunt of King Stach?
lf you could know
how much blood, murder,
orphans' tears are hidden
within these walls!
Don't you think that we are all
to answer for this?
Answer with fear,
suffering and death.
We haven't the right to exist,
even the most honest of us,
the very best of us.
The blood in our veins is not blue,
it's dirty blood.
That's all.
ln the morning you shall leave
Marsh Firs forever.
The violins have played their song,
the fineries have been put away.
Death has its own laws.
There is nothing you can do here!
You're a stranger here!
Go back to people who are alive,
who go hungry and can laugh.
And leave the graves to the dead!
Leave me! Go away!
l beg you! Please, leave!
Nadzieja Romanovna,
if you drive me out,
l shall find another shelter.
Before, my only wish was
to leave this place,
but now l...
l cannot do it!
l cannot leave these god-forsaken
swamps where abominable things occur,
where the children tremble with fright
and cry at night when they hear
the hoofs of the Savage Hunt.
Yes, l shall die if they're ghosts,
but...
- lf they're people...
- lt's too late! Too late!
Everything comes too late in the world!
You came too late, too!
And if you are killed,
l will never forgive myself!
lt's my life,
it's all l own,
and l have the right to dispose of it
to my liking.
Farewell! Farewell!
As a gentleman, l appreciate
the noble efforts you're taking.
But at the moment, unfortunately,
l can't really be of any help to you.
ln fact, l hate
to disappoint you,
but l'm afraid
an investigation
in this primitive region
would not give us anything.
No, no, no.
l'm not against the new trends,
l read all the new literature,
l studied in St. Petersburg
and as a youth
l even dreamed of the stage,
which had horrified my parents.
But,
Дикая охота короля Стаха Дикая охота короля Стаха

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