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have mercy on us.
What do you want?
I've come from Pskov, a pilgrim.
I've come to see the talking dog.
- Out, out of the kitchen.
- She's from Pskov...
Get out.
Darya Petrovna, I've
asked you before...
But Philip Philipovich, People
keep coming in all day long!
- Quick, Fyodor!
- Just a moment, I'll get the lamp.
- Fyodor, quick!
- Coming, coming.
Fyodor, what is it?
Philip Philipovich, we'll have
to open the door.
We must let the water run out.
We can mop it up from the kitchen.
Open it, then!
Dear God.
- I only just managed to get the tap
back in. The pressure is so strong.
- Where is he?
Over there. He's afraid to come out.
Will you beat me, Dad?
What d'you think you're doing, you fool,
spreading it all over the flat!
Pour it into the bowl.
The bowl is no use, the water's
running out the front door.
Oh what a fool.
There will be no reception today. There'
an emergency, we have a burst pipe...
No, no, it can't be done today.
No way.
Zina, Zina, mop up here! The water will
start running down the front stairs
any minute now. Hurry up.
- I'll do it.
- I'll scoop it up with jugs.
Yes, all right... Nothing can be done
today. No, tomorrow, some other day.
Ivan Arnoldovich come into the bedroom.
I'll give you a pair of my shoes.
Don't bother, Philip Philipovich,
I'm all right.
Oh God.
- Then put on the galoshes. - It doesn't
matter. My feet are wet anyway...
Oh dear me.
- What a nasty animal! - Whom
are you talking about, may I inquire?
I am talking about the cat.
Filthy swine.
I swear I have never seen a more
brazen creature than you.
Hhow much longer are you going
to chase cats? You're a barbarian.
I am no barbarian? Not in the least.
I won't stand that brute in this flat!
It stole Darya's mincemeat.
I wanted to teach it a lesson.
It's you who needs a lesson! Just take
a look at your face in the mirror.
Nearly scratched my eyes out.
The slut.
Philip Philipovich. I'm sorry,
I wouldn't like to mention it
but the windowpane in Number Seven...
Citizen Sharikov threw stones at it.
- You mean at a cat? - Not quite, he was
throwing them at the owner of the flat.
Sharikov was cuddling their cook,
and they chased him out...
...They had a fight.
- How much?
- One and a half.
Fancy paying one and a half roubles
for such a filthy swine. He himself...
Don't you dare!
Please, Philip Philipovich,
don't upset yourself.
Where d'you think you are?
In a pub? Stop that at once!
That's it, serves him right.
A clip over the ear's what he needs!
- No, not that, Fyodor.
- I am sorry for you, Philip Philipovich.
The spirit of the emperor,
do tell us...
...will the Bolsheviks remain
in power for a long time?
Quiet, gentlemen, that's interesting.
No, no, no! You must tuck
in your napkin.
Why the hell should I.
I shan't allow you to eat
until you tuck on your napkin.
- Zina, take the plate away from Sharikov.
- Hey, how do you mean take away?
And use a fork please.
Thank you, Doctor. I sick and
tired of reprimanding him.
- I'll have some vodka.
- Don't you think you've had enough?
- Do you grudge it?
- You, Sharikov, are talking nonsense.
The most revolting thing is that you talk
with such confidence and assuredness.
I don't grudge you the vodka of course,
all the more so since it's not mine
but belongs to Philip Philipovich.
It's simply that it's bad for you.
That's number one. And number two: you
can't behave yourself even without vodka.
It isn't done that way.
You should first offer it to Philip
Philipovich, then to me,
then pour yourself a glass.
You always act just as
if you were on parade here.
Put your napkin here, place your tie
there and "excuse me" and "please-merci".
Why can't you behave naturally?
You torment yourselves as though
you were still under the tsar.
What do you mean
by "natural" may I ask?
I wish you all...
- The same to you.
- An old habit!
There's nothing we can do
about it - Klim Chugunkin.


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