One jar atop another.
Bucketful of them.
As a matter of fact,
you can hardly see them
if you don't look too close.
I got it.
The circus is bad.
The racecourse is good.
Where are you heading?
What happened on the 28th?
His horse brought him,
and he believed he did it.
- Who?
- Oleg Nikolayev.
Frum's a fast pick-up. He took
after his father, lvory Tower.
You could have raced no worse
with him. Like on May 2nd.
I watched the race closely.
You couldn't,
you raced second.
We raced along all the way,
we could even talk if we wished.
He comes each Sunday
and says:
"Won't mount a horse before fall."
He is all right,
no doubt about that.
He won the start.
He has a fine sense of timing.
Afterwards, he had to be taken off
the saddle.
He slumped down
and had cramps.
Sasha, you're still pale,
though much time has elapsed.
- Still pale.
- Want to know why?
Multiple injuries,
intestine hemorrhage, ribs...
What happened anyway?
The trainer said:
"Try to make grace".
I know this sad story.
But she got her hoof
into a mole's hole.
I fell down and forgot it all: whether
it was day, night, spring, fall...
Perhaps, I'll take a job
at the circus, as a riding-master.
You have to move around there too.
No, don't.
Do not react.
I had quite a few mishaps
in my life,
but I hate a chance
and believe in my lucky star.
Do not react.
Seeking reasons of defeats
in something external
amounts to indulging
in false illusions.
Simply, it's not my day.
I don't give a darn
for these aphorisms of yours.
I've got my own life to live,
not someone else's.
Do not react.
What's the matter with you?
We'll be soon at the racecourse.
May I come there too?
I'm drawn to the racecourse
by some major plans,
but I haven't yet made up my mind.
When I get out
I'll teach you a jockey seat.
- When will you sign off?
- Tomorrow.
- As for me, I don't know yet.
- I'll visit you.
Ouch! What's the matter?
Sorry!
Merci, Madame.
Pardon, not merci.
He's measuring something.
Volodya!
Weird, isn't he?
I can distinguish between
an old camera and a new one
by the smell.
Photography is a form of possession.
What is it? I don't get it.
Volodya, why don't you
mount a horse?
Everything's dreadful!
Dreadful!
Why don't you...
It's dreadful to mount a horse.
Why, Volodya?
You wanted to say
or ask something?
Volodya, why don't you mount
a horse?
I'm fearful.
He's fearful!
Give it to me.
Volodya, is she your photo model?
Do you make her pictures?
I snap only horses, and occasionally
- a beautiful woman.
Who is he?
The stallion isn't to blame
for your mediocrity.
Who is he?
The great Amirov.
A local trainer.
- And who are you?
- I'm Violetta.
What right do you have
to decide his destiny?
Kasyanov never even raised a whip,
but you...
You took an unjustifiably fast start,
thereby confusing the horse.
Do you know what pace is?
What are you doing?
Yield the girth.
Yield by touch. With one hand.
First with one. Then with the other.
I told you to warm up first,
but you ride at full tilt.
Get away! Forever!
See that eagle?
Did he soar high?
I'm Lilya.
A lily,
a flower under and above water.
What is pace?
One of the mysteries
of the jockey's art.
A smashing beauty.
So how's Berlin?
Tough ground.
She's got some oomph.
She swallowed a nail.
She's stunningly beautiful.
She happens to be my friend.
Very nice.
You got a pep, too.
I know she's your friend...
Valya's brought a good jacket,
ltalian, your size.
So what is pace?
Take your hands off,
let me have a word.
Volodya, tell us please:
what is pace?
Good color.
Volodya, what is pace?
Take my advice, buy it.
...holding a stop-watch
together with the reins,
a jockey determines the race pace
visually every second.
What is pace?
A very good ltalian suit.
Please, tell us: what is pace?
Come on, take it.
What is pace?
Volodya, repeat it
and explain it to the girl.
As distinct from riders
holding a