all. No fun...
Snob!.. Arrogant snob!..
- You're comfortable? Use my robe.
- Don't you dare intruding my privacy!!!
If you think you are Don Quixote,
I'm no Sancha Panza.
Give this mule to me!
Look at me, when a lady is talking to you!!!
- Get on the donkey.
- The hell I will!
- Get on!
- Over my dead body!
- Too late. They've spotted us.
- Who are they?
Bashi-bazouks.
Those who cut heads off?
RUN!..
Too late! Stay quiet...
Let's pretend we are simple peasants
- no sport for them.
What's going to happen?
Are we in trouble? Will they kill us?
They won't if you keep silent.
Low down your head...
- Get on the donkey. Let's move.
- Have you seen it? Have you?
- Yes, I've seen, they have a Russian officer -
We'll tell this to the nearest patrol.
- I mean the head!
- Get on the donkey! Quiet!
Ouch!!!
QIET!!!
Mother... Mother...
- Yes! A girl!!!
- Look, sir, a golden medallion. With rubies...
Rubies?
Get on. Quick, I beg you...
Come on. Come on. Come on...
Please, quicker. They are catching up on us.
Shoot, shoot! What's wrong?
The gun is unloaded.
Sabres ready! Follow me!
They've got our officer!
Are you Chetniks? I'd like to ask you
a couple of questions.
My name is Seumas McLaughlin,
I work for The Daily Post.
We are Russian. My
name's Erast Fandorin,
and my companion is
M-mademoiselle Suvorova.
- A lady...
- I'm traveling to find my fiance.
He serves at the HQ.
- Have you watched my kill?
Like a lightning, eh?..
- True.
Who's the gentleman with a hat?
Monsieur d'Hevrais, he works for La Revue
Parisienne, a star among French reporters.
The gentleman in white
is Michel Soboleff - a great warrior.
He's been dispatched to HQ.
And is truly bored without action.
Charles and I are interested in everything.
This is our first day at the front.
Got away, sons of whores!
Nice horses they have! Turkish fucks!
- General, there are ladies in presence...
- Where?
Let me introduce Madame Suvorova.
She is secretly heading to her fiance
at the camp.
Mademoiselle...
I am Charles d'Hevrais, a reporter.
There's blood on your face.
Here. That's better.
- How's the Captain? Dead?
- Looks dead to me...
Hold on. "Looks dead, looks dead"...
Moron...
Just a scratch... You are lucky, Captain.
Here, have a drink...
Captain Perepelkin. Service of Supplies
and Maintenance.
Your Excellency, at you service forever!
I thought we were deep
within our own territory...
You are stupid to ride alone.
Get his wounds bandaged.
Halt! Tie him up. While he' still unconscious.
- Your Excellency...
- And who are you?
Romaev, get me some water...
- Titular Counselor Fandorin.
I've escaped from t-the Turks.
I have information of utmost
importance and s-secrecy.
- What kind of information?
- General, could we talk in private?..
- Nonsense.
Speak.
It's vital you occupy Pleven.
Osman-pasha's corps is moving there.
- What is he doing in that rat hole?
- I can tell this only at the HQ, General.
Time is s-slipping away...
- Everyone's alive?
- Your Excellency, looks like we found
Semenov of the 2nd Cossack Company.
- Time to hurry, General.
- Wait a second. Take fifty men and get
to Pleven. Take a look what's going on there.
- Yes, sir.
- Take this bird to the counter-intelligence
department. Titular Counselor, my ass...
General! What can fifty men do
against an army corps?
Doesn't look like Semenov to
me? Semenov had a snubbed nose.
See, the nose... the
birthmark... the missing tooth...
Hey, mademoiselle... Mademoiselle...
Warrant Officer, have
you passed my message on?
Time's running out. One
more hour and it's too late!
- Tell me, the man who called
himself a "titular counselor"...
- Fandorin.
- Yes. Did he talk to bashi-bazouks in Turkish?
- Yes. He was a Turkish prisoner for 8 months...
I don't give a damn what kind of lies he told you!
How did speak Turkish? Fluently?
I can't remember! Perhaps not.
He stammers a lot.
I'll cross-interview you