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know me, General.
I have never met you.
It is a Russian spy.
No, Your Highness!
You could not know me.
I have never left Moscow.
- Your name?
- Bezukhov.
Who can prove that you are not
How will you prove to me
the truth of what you say?
M. Ramball, Captain of the 13th
Light Brigade, knows me.
- You are not what you say.
- Your Highness!
Take him away.
What shall we do with him,
Your Highness?
In the name of the Emperor and
on this day, September 8
of the year 1812...
the military judicial commission
sentences the accused
to death by shooting.
Who is executing me,
depriving me of life?
Me, with all my memories,
my aspirations,
my hopes, my thoughts?
Who is doing this?
They are all suffering as I am.
So who is doing this?
No one. The established order.
The interplay of circumstances.
Not the fat one with the glasses.
No! I don't want to!
And have you seen
a lot of trouble, sir?
You mustn't worry, though.
Suffer an hour, live for an age.
That's the way it goes, my dear.
- Who are you? A soldier?
- Yes, from the Apsheron regiment.
I was dying of fever.
Twenty of us were sick.
No one expected this.
Here she is, the hussy.
She remembers me!
Here, you taste this, sir.
At dinner we had soup.
But the potatoes are first rate!
No, no, not that way.
Here, let me show you.
You taste them like that.
First-rate potatoes!
Why did they kill
those poor men?
That last boy was barely twenty.
Sins, sins... Where there's law,
injustice will follow.
Have you been here long?
It was Sunday they took me
out of the hospital in Moscow.
My name's Platon,
surname's Karatayev.
In the regiment they called me
"the little hawk".
Aren't you miserable here?
Miserable, to be sure.
Moscow, she's the mother of cities.
One must be miserable to see it.
Well, though it's the worm that
gnaws the cabbage, it's first to die.
What was that you said?
I say it's not by our wit,
but as God thinks fit.
Oh, I think you must be getting
sleepy, eh?
Why, the little hussy,
you're warm, child of the bitch!
Lord, lay me down like a stone
and raise me up like new bread.
Prince Andrei not only knew
that he was going to die,
but he felt
that he was dying,
that he was already half dead.
It was the last moral struggle
between life and death,
in which death gained the victory.
Without anguish, he was awaiting
what was yet to come,
that grim, eternal, unknown
and remote something.
You're not asleep?
I have been looking at you
a long while.
I love you far too much.
More than anything else
in the world.
And I? Why too much?
Why too much?
Tell me, what do you feel,
deep in your heart?
Within your soul?
- Am I going to live?
- Yes, I'm sure!
It would have been so good.
You haven't slept at all.
Please, try to get some rest.
Yes, that was death.
I died. I woke up.
Yes, death is awakening.
How did you get here?
And you brought Nikolushka?
Are you crying for Nikolushka?
You mustn't cry here.
I'd be cursed by posterity
if I were regarded
as the first instigator
of any sort of settlement.
The people of my country
feel that way.
He was making peace overtures, but
either he received negative answers,
or received no answer at all.
With every fiber of his being,
Kutuzov sensed
that the staggering blow dealt
the enemy at Borodino,
into which he and the entire Russian
people had put their whole strength,
must have been a mortal blow.
But still proofs were needed.
From Alexei Petrovich Dokhturov.
Come closer.
What news have you brought me?
Napoleon has left Moscow, has he?
Is it truly so?
Napoleon has left Moscow,
Your Highness.
His advance troops are already
in Fominskoye.
Lord, my Creator!
Thou hast heard our prayer!
Russia is saved.
There you are. Where's Platon?
They began to look. Where's
that little old man
who has been suffering in vain?
But God had already forgiven him.
He was dead.
That is life!
That is

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