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going make partitions,
Philip Philipovich.
I don't know what the world
is coming to! Dear me, dear me!
Come, come with me.
Where on earth did you get that from,
Philip Philipovich? He does look lousy.
What nonsense. He isn't lousy.
That's not lice.
It's a scald. Who was mean enough
to throw boiling water over you? Eh?
Take him into the consulting room
at once and get me my smock.
Come with me. Come. This way, come.
- Oh, I can't Philip Philipovich!
- Doctor Bormenthal, get the ether!
- Doctor Bormenthal!
- Hold on, you bastard!
Zina, grab him by the scruff
of the neck, damn him!
No electricity. Again.
Just a moment.
Look out, Doctor.
...from Seville to Granada...
in the still of the night...
Now, you little tramp,
why did you bite the Doctor? Eh?
Why did you break all that glass?
All right, you've come to,
so just lie there, stupid.
O it's me who bit him.
That's my work.
That'll mean a beating.
However did you managed to lure such
a nervous dog, Philip Philipovich.
By kindness.
The only way to deal
with a living being.
Terror will get you nowhere.
That I have maintained, do maintain,
and always will maintain.
They believe, terror will
help them. Well, it won't.
No matter which one it is -
white, red or even brown.
Zina! I bought this good-for-nothing
some Cracowian sausage.
Take the trouble to feed him
when he gets over his nausea.
Cracowian sausage!? I'd rather eat
the Cracowian salami myself.
Just you try! Poison to the human
stomach, that's what it is.
You are a grown-up girl, but you go on
putting all sorts of nasty things
into your mouth, like a child.
Remember: Neither me, nor doctor Bormenthal
will bother ourselves with you...
...when you go down
with a stomach ache.
O, you've come to?
Let's go see the patients.
Hut up.
An old patient.
Good afternoon, Professor.
- Gracious me, I wouldn't have
recognized you, my good man.
- You are a magician, a wizard, Professor.
- How have you been sleeping?
- Are we alone, Professor?
Incredible. Parole d'honeur, I haven't
known anything like that for 25 years.
Believe it or not...
...every night I dream of naked
girls - hordes of them.
Take off your pants.
Oh, Professor, if only you had discovered
a way of rejuvenating hair too!
One thing at a time, my dear,
one thing at a time.
Look here, you shouldn't overdo it,
you know.
I don't. Only as a sort of experiment,
dear Professor.
Well, and what were the results?
Oh! Wear to God, I haven't known
anything like that for 25 years.
The last time was in 1899
in Paris on the Rue de la Paix.
Excellent. Everything
is in great shape.
I admit, I never expected
such results.
Streams of blood and song galore...
And to the one who's
most enchanting...
One, two, three.
- You need not come for another
check-up for two weeks. - Thank you.
The age is not filled in correctly.
It is probably between 54 and 55.
Heartbeat's muffled.
- Do come in.
- Good afternoon, Professor.
- How old are you, madam?
- Oh, Professor...
Professor, I swear that if you knew
the agony I've been going through...!
- Your age, madam?
- Upon my honor...
Well, I am 45.
Madam, there are people waiting.
Please don't waste my time.
You're not my only patient, you know.
I will tell you and you only
as a luminary of science.
- How old are you, madam?
- That is just awful. I am 51.
Take off your knickers. This way.
It is such agony, Professor.
It is so appalling.
I am at a loss what to do.
Help me, Professor.
Not too moral a flat.
But what comfort.
What the hell can he want me for?
Will he let me live here?
What an eccentric.
He could get a pedigreed dog
at the drop of a hat.
And what if I am good-looking?
I must be lucky.
But that owl is trash.
Get dressed.
I swear, Professor, this boy Morits...
He is my only passion.
He cheats at cards. He is notorious
throughout Moscow.
He can't resist a single
disgusting little salesgirl.
But he is so devilishly

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