whether he'll die again...
...but the flowers
are fading.
Shura pulls them out
from Bublikov.
I mean, from
Bublikov's wreath...
...and makes presents
to our women.
I recommended this to her.
No, it doesn't fit.
What doesn't fit?
I came to my office
before hours...
...and the bunch
was here already.
That Bublikov was alive
became known later.
It doesn't fit.
It doesn't.
Then, my hypothesis
is wrong.
I am afraid it is.
So, who could've done it?
What do you think?
Why, do you suspect me of
bringing this wisp in?
Why are you saying this?
It's not a wisp.
It's a beautiful
bunch of flowers.
And I suspect that you...
...were the one who brought it.
Only you're not
brave enough to say so.
It's ridiculous.
How can you suspect me,
an honest man?
Why should
I bring you flowers?
Do you think one cannot
bring me flowers?
One can. To you, one can.
Only, this requires some...
Some... birthday.
Or... how is it? ...Women's Day!
But I'm not going
to do that, no!
Why are you lying constantly?
No, I'm not lying.
I haven't brought you
any flowers.
What am I,
a complete nutter?
A crackpot? I'm sorry,
I've got my work to do.
First you bring me flowers.
And then you come
to offend me.
I haven't offended you!..
Take your wisp back!
You wouldn't allow yourself
throwing a bunch...
...into the face of anyone
of the staff.
Can it be that you are not
indifferent towards me?
Just one word more...
...and I will
throw the water bottle at you.
If you do it with the bottle,
then you're really... with me...
Leave. Now!
I will.
And don't you dare come
until I call you.
Until you call, no.
Do you understand?
I do.
And please come only
on reception days.
I please will.
If you have a specific
reason to see me...
No such reason!
...register with the secretary!
And never come
without a reason!
Without a reason, never.
I will never
come to you again.
That's for sure. I am sorry.
My office is not a thoroughfare.
It will never happen again.
Where are those doors?
They are
where they should be.
Found them. Best regards,
Ludmila Prokofievna.
Lovers' talks end.
The last starling flies away.
And scarlet-heart silhouettes
Fall down from maples.
What have you done
to us, autumn?
Earth freezes in red gold.
The grievous flame
whistles under feet...
Moving fallen leaves around.
Dad, it's for you.
Uncle Misha?
Tell him I'll call back.
It's some lady
I don't know.
All right, let's find it out.
Please forgive me
for my yesterday's language.
I got angry, and my behaviour
was absolutely unforgivable.
It might be it wasn't you...
...who brought
those ill-fated flowers in.
Yes, it was me.
Last poppies wither.
Cranes fy away.
And the nature, painfully dark...
Is not itself.
Why do you go bareheaded
along a bare
and empty parkway
Full of fallen leaves
Having no pity for yourself
Life of plants went on hiding...
In these strange stumps
of branches.
And what has happened to you?
What has happened to your soul?
How dare you let this beauty...
Your precious soul...
Go roving all over the world...
And perishing in a far land?
The walls of your home
may be weak...
The road may go off into the dark.
There's no sadder betrayal
Than a betrayal of yourself.
Betrayal of yourself.
Good morning, Verochka.
Morning.
May I?
Please, come in.
Please play the postman again.
My pleasure. I remember.
Private and confidential.
This is my proposal
on improvement...
...of statistical accounting
in light industry.
You know,
I see your meaning.
It's very important to improve
statistic accounting...
...especially in light industry.
I so understand you.
Yes. Here it is.
OK.
Thank you.
Everything will be OK.
Hallo, Yuri Grigorievich.
You'll make me enter