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Yegoryev Day.
When an important paper arrives,
you can't find him even with dogs.
And l can hardly sign my name,
and can't read at all.
All l can do is stamp papers.
This is the lot.
There's no money.
No ataman's scepter
under the Soviets.
lf you like,
l can leave you my crutch.
Well, granddad, let's say
you've handed everything over.
Now get the hell out of here!
- Where to?
- Take yourself home!
Ah, all right.
l recognized you at once.
You're the late Koshevoy's son.
- Yes, l am.
- Good day to you, then.
Go, go!
- What happened?
- Grisha's come home!
- Hello, Misha.
- Hello, hello!
lt's been a long time.
Like a hundred years.
Yes, you're right.
Welcome home.
So we're kin now?
Yes, looks like it.
What's that blood on your cheek?
Cut myself while shaving. l was
in a hurry.
What is it?
Want to call someone
to kill a sheep.
The master ought to be
given a fitting welcome.
Tell Prokhor Zykov
to dig up some home brew.
He knows better
how to do it.
And invite him for supper.
Well... my dear hostess?
Grigory Panteleyevich!
Grigory Panteleyevich!
My dear man!
l never thought
l'd live to see the day!
- Come for good?
- For good.
What rank did you rise to?
Deputy regimental commander.
Why did they discharge you so soon?
Had no more use for me.
Why so?
Because of my past, l guess.
Where's Mikhail?
ln the yard.
Platon Ryabchikov
was shot last month.
- No, they couldn't!
- Believe me, they did.
Well, we'll talk later.
Let's drink, Commander!
Come in, Ksyusha.
Sit down, be our guest.
Hello, Ksyusha.
Sit down.
Our companion, Ksyusha!
We retreated together,
we fed lice together.
Drink to the health
of Grigory Panteleyevich.
Don't listen to him,
he's already drunk.
To your return,
Grigory Panteleyevich!
And to yourjoy, Dunya.
What about you? To your sorrow?
And to my joy! A greatjoy.
Bottoms up,
for Christ's sake.
You talk straight,
drink straight, too.
When something's left in the glass,
it's like a knife in my heart.
You, Mikhail, are like a calf
in those matters.
And l know about drinks.
There's such a wine -
you hardly take a cork out,
and it's all foaming,
like a rabid dog.
That night l fell from my horse three
times, as if l was blown off.
A glass of such wine is great
on an empty stomach.
How are you?
Oh, there's too much to tell.
- Will you come?
- l will.
l'm not taking the jug.
l hate to walk
with an empty vessel.
My wife will nag me.
Will you get home all right?
l will, even if l'll have to crawl.
Aren't l a Cossack?
You're insulting me.
Shall we talk, Mikhail?
All right, let's talk.
Something's wrong between us.
My coming isn't to you liking,
is it?
Right, it isn't.
- Why not?
- Additional trouble.
Don't worry, l can make my own living.
l didn't mean that.
What, then?
You and l are enemies.
- We were.
- l guess we will.
You killed too many of our fighters.
That's why l can't look at you
and not feel hatred.
l can't forget it.
You've got a good memory.
You killed my brother Pyotr,
and l don't remind you about it.
lf we remember everything,
we'll live like wolves.
l can imagine
how you would've talked to me
if we had the Cadets' rule now,
if it were you who had won over.
l guess you would've cut belts
out of my back.
But now you seem so kind.
l don't know about others, but l'd
not have dirtied my hands with you.
So we're not alike.
l've never been too shy to dirty
my hands with the enemy,
and if need be, would do it right now.
Want to have a drink?
Yes, for we seem to be too sober
for this talk.
So you're afraid, Mikhail,
that l will rebel
against the Soviets?
l'm afraid of nothing,
but l'm sure
that once there's some trouble,
you'll join the other side.
l'm not going to join anybody.
l've done my service. l'm not
going to serve anybody any more.
ln my life l've done
more than enough fighting.
My soul is exhausted.


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