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But whatever may happen to you
when I'm not here...
Don't go...
Whatever may happen,
go to Pierre for help.
He's the most absent-minded man,
but he has a heart of gold.
Don't go...
How indignant Pierre would have
seven years before, when he'd
returned from his sojourn abroad,
if someone had told him
that there would be no need
for him to seek or plan anything,
that his path had long ago been
traced and predetermined for him.
Sometimes he consoled himself that
the life he led was a temporary thing.
But then he would be shocked by
another thought:
How many other men had
temporarily slipped into this sort
of life, just as he had, with all
their teeth and all their hair,
only to leave it without a single
tooth and without a single hair.
Why? What for?
What was going on in the world?
Now and then Pierre recalled
what he had been told
of soldiers under fire in ambuscade
when they have nothing to do,
how they try hard
to find occupation
so as to bear their danger
more easily.
And Pierre pictured all men
as such soldiers
trying to find a refuge from life,
some in ambition, some in cards,
some in framing laws,
some in women, some in games,
some in horses, some in politics,
some in sport, some in wine,
some in the government service.
Nothing is trivial, nothing is
important. Only one thing matters:
To escape from her
as best I can!
Only not to see her,
that dreadful her.
Under the influence of wine
he would say to himself:
"I'll get it straightened out.
I have a solution already.
But I'll think it over later on!"
The trouble was
this "later on" never came.
Good morning, Uncle!
All's well and quick march!
I knew you couldn't resist it.
You had better attack at once,
for my Girchik reported
that the Ilaghins are out with
their hounds at Korniki.
They'll snatch the litter
right under your noses.
That's where I'm going.
Shall we join the packs?
Good morning, Uncle!
See? We're going too!
Good morning to you. Be careful
you don't trample the hounds.
We won't get in anyone's way.
We'll stay in our places.
A good thing too, little Countess,
only don't fall off your horse,
since there's nothing for a horse
to hold on to.
Have you seen Natalya Ilyinichna?
Where is she?
She and Pyotr Ilyich are standing
behind the high grass at Zharov.
A lady, but she has a great love
for the chase.
And you wonder at her riding, eh?
- It wouldn't be amiss for a man.
- Yes! So daring, so smart!
You old hag, don't scare the game
off, or old Danila'll curse you...
I know a thing or two myself!
They're on the track of the litter.
In the Lyadovsky uplands.
Stand still!
He slipped by you! Some hunters!
Dear Lord, what would it cost You
to do this for me?
I know it's a sin
to ask You such a thing.
But please, let the wolf
come out my way!
Just once in my life let me get
a hermit wolf, that's all I want!
Keep going or go back?
Keep going!
What a magnificent wolf!
- A real hermit wolf, eh?
- The meanest one, Your Excellency.
As mean as you are, Danila.
That's my little Countess,
all's well, quick march!
I never saw an amazon like her!
Dawn to sundown, riding sidesaddle,
and she's as fresh as a daisy!
Have a taste of this,
little Countess.
Come on, Petya, wake up!
Taste some of this, it's delicious!
This is how I'm finishing my days.
When you die, there's nothing left
at all. All's well, quick march.
So why complain...
Open the door! Why have you
shut it?
That's my coachman.
I've bought him a good balalaika.
How nice! It's really good.
What do you mean, good?
It's simply enchanting!
Please, go on! Play some more.
You enjoy it, little Countess?
He plays very well, doesn't he?
That's not the way to do it.
You should hear trills there,
all's well, quick march!
Can you play, Uncle?
Anisya, will you see if the strings
are all right on the guitar?
I haven't touched it for a long
time, all's well, quick march!
Beautiful, Uncle! Go

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