the Orloviches.
- All right.
Khobotov! How is your side doing?
Aches a bit.
Appendix. It'll all come to this.
- Jesus, what fantasies!
- It's all because of your skating.
What my skating has
to do with all this?
Some champion!
Savva, can you put her to reason!
- Come on, Lev.
- Are you a husband or not?
You should've listened to me
when we were at the skating rink.
I'm asking you for the last time!
Only two weeks left,
have some patience, Lev.
Ah, Anna Adamovna... But I'm
going to Armenia on a business trip.
They've discovered on the Ararat
the wreck of the Noah Ark.
You know already?..
Jesus, how extraordinary!
You'll hear from me. Bye.
I'm crossing her out.
- Hi, Soev,
- Hi, Kostya.
You've brought something new?
- Yes, and my wife liked it.
- It speaks for itself.
With all due respect for Mrs. Soev
and for her refined taste,
please, what about the finale?
Remember our last piece: so simple,
and with marvelous connotation?
- And such a scope!
- One can't please you enough.
The one taking the road gains smth.
Creative unrest is what you need.
- Soev, he is one of the audience.
- No, he's one of your neighbors.
But you are a poet,
a mouthpiece of the epoch!
- I think you're exaggerating.
- But I'm not!
You need creative endeavor.
You need a masterpiece!
Why should he need any?
You, an advocate of stale forms!
- I beg your pardon!
- You must change your appearance!
You have an idee fixe.
Look, Soev. There is another
way of self-expression.
Write a comedy in verse,
like Griboedov did.
He had a tragic end.
- You scare my authors away!
- The Soevs will be the end of you.
But who will help me? You?
Why not? I have a talent.
Lev, I've trans-lated your polka
into Russian.
- I can imagine.
- I'm serious.
Stop it, Kostya.
It's a song about
underprivileged youth.
- Oh, leave me alone.
- First the lass recollects...
'Ah, my Father looked askance
when he watched my polka dance.'
Then the lad recollects: he
had the same sad experience...
'Ah, my Father looked askance,
when he watched my polka dance.'
'Magnificent'...
And then he says to the girl:
come on, I know how it feels too...
Kostya, can you tell me, what
Margarita wants from me?
She wants you. It lies
in her subconscious.
Thus bespeaks her attraction
to the universal harmony.
- But this is impossible!
- Who knows.
Lyudochka! You've come!
- You're here!
- You're ill?
I don't know. I'm feeling blue,
staying at home...
My poor darling, do you want
me to make you some tea?
- Hi, Lyudochka.
- Hi, Kostya.
You heard the news?
Emile Zola died of fumes.
- Oh no!
- Never forget to turn off the gas!
Maybe you shall introduce me?
- Oh yes: please meet Velyurov.
- A master of eloquence.
Oh.
Kostya, where is Svetlana?
- What Svetlana?
- She is a D.Sc.
I'll tell you about her later.
- A D.Sc?
- Yes, a D.Sc.
Oh, it's you. Speak of the devil,
and here's the D.Sc.
No, you can have the book for keeps.
I'm leaving.
- Where?
- To look for Tamerlan's grave.
And thank you. What for?
'For love pangs since the day we met.'
What else?
'For bitter tears that I shed...'
- Isn't it blasphemy!
- It's just his love of poetry!
Thank you. I will
write you a letter.
What is wrong with loving Lermontov!
Or you love some other authors?
Bravo! What can you say to this?
What is wrong with my being
in love like some silly calf?
What is wrong with my old loves
forgotten and letters burnt down?
- You can't love!
- No, he can!
Merci, mon ange.
That was a challenge of an answer!
Ha, you're in concert,
the two of you.
Your aunt has encouraged
your corruption.
You can't understand: my aunt
is a wonderful creature!
She saw little turbulence
in her life.
Fiction and loneliness - this is
all she had for herself.
But my living here adds
turbulence to her life.
- And she is grateful for this.
- Ah, how kind of you!..
You don't sound sincere.
It's not funny.
I was always a sealed book