you know Olga?
- No, but you talk so ardently.
Oh God, she is miraculous!
What can one say!
Alexeyev, why don't you come to live
at my place for a while?
You have no country house,
and it's so hot in the city now.
Zakhar, prepare a room
for Ivan Alexeyevich!
Ilya Ilyich, I would better
listen to you.
Olga told Oblomov
to meet her at the gazebo,
but she was being late.
He couldn't wait to show her
the landscape without the bush,
which so much annoyed her.
He waited and she did not appear.
The happiness that overfilled him
was slowly going away.
Nature was busy around him.
The bustle of unseen life
was stirring all about him,
and yet nature seemed to be lying
in majestic repose.
But everything in the grass was
moving, creeping, hurrying.
Ants were racing in all directions,
so busily jostling each other,
running about, hastening.
Here was a bumble-bee buzzing about
a flower and crawling into its bell.
A bird in the thicket had been
repeating one and the same note,
perhaps calling to its mate.
A strong scent came from the grass,
and the clamour that rose from it
was unceasing.
"What a lot there is going on here,"
Oblomov thought,
listening to the gentle noise of
nature.
"And from the outside it all seems
so still and peaceful!"
The days in summer are so long.
In winter at that time it is
altogether dark.
At Christmas-tide it is already
dark at five o'clock.
Was it at Christmas-time that Maria
Petrovna insisted on tobogganing?
Yes, at Christmas-time.
I think, at Christmas-time.
That was when Luka Savich
bruised his head.
Come, Luka Savich, tell us
however did you do it?
There's nothing to tell.
Alexei Naumovich has invented it all.
And look at your forehead!
There's a scar on it still!
What are you laughing at?
Vaska gave me an old toboggan.
It came to pieces under me,
and so I...
He's fallen asleep, my baby.
Let's go now.
Let's go, darling,
I'll put you in bed.
There you go, my darling.
Come on.
Let's go, my sweetie,
I'm going to tuck you in.
- Let me do it, ma'am.
- No, don't.
- Let me, ma'am.
- I'll do it myself.
My dear boy, my darling.
Let's go, my treasure,
I'll put you in bed.
There you go, my darling,
let me tuck you in.
Put your hand here, that's it.
Don't go away.
I won't, I'm with you.
- Will winter come?
- It will.
I'm not sleeping.
Oblomov, seeing his mother,
who had been dead for years,
even in his sleep, felt a tremor of
joy and ardent love for her,
and two warm tears oozed slowly
from under his eyelashes
and rested on his cheeks.
Ilya Ilyich!
Can't you stay awake
for at least five minutes?
Olga, I'm sorry, I...
I don't think I was sleeping,
I seemed to see everything around me.
Oblomov wanted to tell Olga what he
had seen, but suddenly he yawned.
My doctor tells me to go travelling,
but I can't. I told Andrei so.
Sometimes I feel as though I am
a small part of a big whole,
as a leaf on a branch.
Then I'm calm and happy,
as though I can hear how the sap
runs down the trunk,
how the tree begins to sway, and
I sway with it, and I'm not afraid.
I feel its roots,
deep and strong.
And if I break away from it,
I would be swept by the wind.
Where shall I fall down?
What will become of me?
What is it?
Sometimes you look at me
like my nurse.
- Olga Sergeyevna.
- And what if I die?
- What an idea!
- What if I catch cold?
You will come here and not find me.
You will come to us,
and Katya, in tears, will whisper:
"She is ill, she is dying."
The doctor will shake his head.
What will become of you then?
I shall go mad or shoot myself.
And you will recover.
Oh dear, what children we are!
Olga Sergeyevna!
I meant to tell you...
No, it's nothing.
Yes, you have something on your mind.
Tell me!
I can't, it's not necessary.
I'm asking you.
Did you fall out of love with me?
No, it isn't that...
Do you love Andrei?
Of course, he is my friend.
That's not what you wanted to say.
Olga, you don't