welcome.'
- Is this a Camoens too?
- No.
It's Francois Villon,
his poem 'Testament'.
- He died too?
- He was hanged or stabbed, whatever.
My! Do these things
happen to all poets?
Almost to all of them.
Look, Lev Evghenievich,
the Orloviches are here.
- So what?
- Don't be like that.
- I told you: I can't.
- She wants you to come.
- I am busy.
- She warned you in the morning.
I told 'no' in the morning.
- So you will not come?
- No.
- You'll upset Margarita Pavlovna.
- I am sorry.
For shame!
Thanks to you I understood
one shouldn't be afraid to live.
- There is nothing to be afraid of!
-...One shouldn't postpone things...
'We're buried in the pits and graves,
And not a chance the dead to raise...'
- It's Francois...
- No, it's Arthur Rimbaud.
He died in the 19th century: he was
very talented and very hapless.
- And he too?!
- He had had his foot amputated.
As if they did it on purpose!..
lndeed... I see your lips
are trembling.
- I could show you a polka dance.
- You can dance?
It's an old French folksong,
very naive.
'Rosamund, now
we have finished the war!
'Rosamund, I've nothing
to do anymore.
'Rosamund, my country
is waiting for me.
'So farewell, Rosamund,
I'm going back to my family!
'Hey, we shall don
the neckties now...'
- He is very original, isn't he.
- There is something primeval in him.
- What's going on?
- They imitate the French stars.
Oh yeah, it's very obliging.
- When will you come?
- I don't know, my angel.
Nights are full of surprises,
aren't they?
One day your Kostya will surprise you
to a very great extent.
Why don't you watch the film?
You high priest of the Muses.
I'm a high priest
of stand-up comedy!
- How wonderful!
- You liked it?
Somebody is knocking!
What does this all mean?
The Orloviches are waiting.
But in what way should it
concern me?
- Khobotov, don't be so petty!
- I have always hated them!
- You're in blinkers of prejudice!
- Excuse me, I'm having guests.
- Oh really? How many of them?
- It doesn't matter.
Velyurov told me smth about this.
She works in a kindergarten?
Your Velyurov is a gossiper.
Ah, there you are. You are having
a rendezvous here?
- Margo, stop it.
- What did she find in you?
With all your infantility you are
too cumbersome for a kindergarten.
She is a medical worker,
and I'm a grown-up person.
A grown-up person? You'll be
lost without me and Savva.
- I don't think so.
- You, 'enfant terrible'!
- No!
- Khobotov, keep your hair on!
- Well, hello.
- Hi.
- So, you are Raissa?
- Lyudmila.
I knew as well.
Well, Mildred dear,
I wanted to tell you...
- Her name is Lyudmila!
- Hush.
My name is Margarita Pavlovna,
not long ago I was his wife.
We stopped being man and woman,
but we're still one family.
That's why I take his life
close to my heart.
- Please!
- But that is not the point.
You see, Lev Evghenievich
is a bit of a character.
He just can't concentrate.
He had invited you, knowing very
well we'd have guests in the evening.
Of course, I shall leave now.
Lyudochka!
You're so absent-minded!
Good bye, Mildred!
Mildred! Ah, Lyudochka!
- This is outrageous!
- Khobotov, don't be ridiculous!
Why ridiculous?
Say, I fell in love with someone!
You can't fall in love, you,
a subconscious erotomaniac!
If you meet someone
to arouse my confidence,
someone to whom I could
entrust you, I'll be only happy.
Get up. Come on.
It's not polite to our guests.
Come on.
There is no need
for somebody to think
that our family undergoes some
petty cataclysms.
Ah, Leva!
All burins are different.
There is a chisel,
and there is an etching needle.
I must admit, there is
some ginger in him.
For relief work only
a graver is used.
- He's a real fanatic of his trade.
- Achtung!
I engraved the champion's names
on the cups!
Engraving other people's names
is an act of self-abnegation.
- Khobotov, it's decadence.
- It's life.
Some people win cups,
and others