Lermontov (1943)

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Soyuzdet Film 1943

Lermontov

Ah! Lermontov!

You look terrible?
Has something happened?

Well, of course something has happened, 'Xander.

Our horses were frightened by an empty black coach in an alley.

- On the Moika. - Yes, on the Moika.

Our sledge broke into pieces
and the Guard Hussars are now walking to the ball.

Is Pushkin here?

Alexander Sergeyevich hasn't come yet.

Xander ... Will Pushkin be here?

Wonderful. Finally, I shall be introduced to him.

I haven't even met Pushkin yet.

My God, the sisters Baryatinsky are again in St. Petersburg.

- And in the same idiotic dresses.
- Very nice.

Soon the balls will filled with spinsters.

Michel, are you listening?

Yes, yes, of course, Xander.

- And ... I understand, I understand. - Xander!

Well, I won't bother you.
I'll lose myself in the crowd.

As your Arbenin would put it.

It would please me if could have the first waltz.

I didn't expect it anymore.

We haven't seen each other for ten days.

11, Michel.

11 ... thank you.

So you counted the days.

The hours!

Look at this:
Petersburg's Romeo and Juliet.

So I heard. And Prince Stepan Stepanovich
about to become her fiancé.

- At his age!
- And so suddenly!

He who dares, wins.

Once again you're being tactless, Michel.

Well, I shall count: 1-2-3 1-2-3

- Count Benkendorff? ...
- His Excellency is in the ballroom.

- Where did it happen?
- On the Chorny River, Your Excellency.

Is he going to die?

As they say, it's fatal, Your Excellency.

He was taken to his rooms on the Moika.

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,
I must report to His Majesty at once.

Gentlemen, have you heard the news?

They say that Pushkin was so much in debt
that he pawned his wife's jewels, and even the silver spoons.

Poor Natalie ...

D'Anthès will comfort her.

Well, Xander ...

You keep looking at the door.

I'm waiting for Pushkin.

Pushkin will be here tonight.

Pushkin will be talking to me.

And are not you scared?

Scared. And exited.

Your heart belongs only to Pushkin?

No no.

I'm also happy because I'm seeing you.

"also" happy?

Today, I'm seeing you.

You don't want to say anything?

I thank God that you're here.

You've been dancing a lot tonight.

I was deprived of the pleasure
of introducing you to Count Benkendorff.

Is it too late?

The Count left a moment ago.

He was suddenly called off to see the Emperor.

At such a time?
Has something happened?

It seems Kammerjunker Pushkin was k*lled in a duel by d'Anthès.

Pushkin?

Not permitted, Your Honour.

Nobody's allowed in here.

Doctor!

How is Pushkin?

Is he alive?

Tell me,

why do friends only come when a person is dying,

but not when he needs them?

It's too late now.

Michel!

Lermontov!

Michel, what are you doing here?

What's the matter?

Pushkin ...

is dying.

Oui, ce serait bien triste.

The Emperor is very sad.

Quelle suprême bonté!

Such kindness ...

We're all in tears,
bless our ...

adored monarch.

- Bless our adored monarch?
- Well, yes.

After all, the Emperor let Pushkin know that he forgave him!
Such graciousness ...

- After all this insolence ...
- Insolence?

C'est un ange, mon cher.

But Pushkin ...

has been k*lled.

A duel is a duel.

D'Anthès had to defend his honour.

- His honour? - Well, yes.

What does the honour of some rogue
matter to the Russian people?

Pushkin has been k*lled!

Your nerves are upset, Michel.

Let's end this talk.

No, I'll speak out.
I'll speak out to all of you.

"Fell, slandered by a gossip's dread,
With lead in breast and vengeful fire,
Drooped with his ever-proud head.

"A poet was k*lled ...

"A poet was k*lled! - the honour's striver

The death of Pushkin heralded the emergence of a new poet for Russia
- Lermontov (V.A. Sollogub, notes)

"And you, oh, vainglory decedents
Of famous fathers, so mean and base,

"Who've trod with ushers' feet the remnants
Of clans, offended by the fortune's plays!

"In greedy crowd standing by the throne,
The foes of Freedom, Genius, and Repute --

Let me see it.

"The foes of Freedom, Genius, and Repute!

"You're hid in shadow of a law-stone,
For you, and truth and justice must be mute!

"Then you, in vain, will try to bring your evil voice on:
It will not help you to be right,

"And you will not wash off with all your bloody poison,

"The Poet's righteous blood!

"right - blood"

The rhyme is not good.

But the verses are memorable.

"And you will not wash off with all your bloody poison,
The Poet's righteous blood!

So after his death Pushkin continues his insolence
through someone else's pen.

These verses, Your Majesty, are being spread
in St. Petersburg by thousands of leaflets.

Thank God you managed to get hold of
at least one copy, Alexander Christoforovich.

So Cornet Lermontov writes poetry.

How old is he?

23, Your Majesty.

I see.

Oh well.

Godspeed, Mr. Lermontov.

What does it please His Majesty to mean?

What's the matter with you, my friend?

After dealing with poets for so many years,
you can't even understand a poetic allegory?

I said, "Godspeed, Cornet Lermontov."

Godspeed, Cornet Lermontov! ..

"The new poet, speaking in defense of the m*rder*d poet,
was placed under arrest in the guardhouse,
whereupon he was transferred to a Caucasus regiment."
(Countess Rostopchina to Alexandre Dumas)

"Blue mountains of the Caucasus, I greet you!
You fostered me in childhood;
you bore me on your wild ridges,
I dressed me with your clouds." (M. Lermontov)

Aleksander Griboyedov

Don't be afraid, don't be frightened.

And what are you doing, my friend?

I just remembered a poem, Your Honour.

- What?
- I write them to exercise my memory.

A poem? Let me have a look.

You know, you'd better read it yourself.

"The Bard is k*lled! The honor's striver

"Fell, slandered by a gossip's dread,

"With lead in breast and vengeful fire,
Drooped with his ever-proud head.

"The Poet's soul...

Don't waste time reading this, my friend.
The poem isn't good.

It's a wonderful poem, Your Honour.

Who are you?

- An exiled soldier, Your honour.
- Your Name?

Private of the 44th Dragoons Regiment Nizhny Novgorod,
Alexander Odoyevski, Your Honour.

Odoyevski?

- The poet?
- That's right, Your Honour.

My God, what a meeting.

Finding a single living soul in this desert.

I am Lermontov.

Lermontov?

Well, yes, Lermontov.

- Thank you.
- For what?

During the long years of exile this is my first day of joy.

Who's that?

That's Nina Alexandrovna Griboyedova.

Griboyedov ...

"Thy mind and works are immortal in the memory of Russia;
But why has my love outlived you!"

Alexander Griboyedov ...

And we could not save another Alexander.
Alexander Pushkin.

Let's go.

- Martishka!
- Lermontov!

Lermontov!

How come you're here?

I've been here in Tiflis two weeks already.

All the time looking for you.

We were going to form an expedition to look for you in the mountains,
among the beautiful Circassian women.

- Well, where have you been? Confess!
- Out there, I spent whole days in the saddle.

How charming is the Caucasus!

The sun, mountains, freedom!

And you're still the same, brave and handsome.

- Good? - Good.

To be a genuine Caucasians,
you are lacking a little trinket.

Take this.

Thank you for the gift.

Carry it in good health.

Now twirl up you military moustaches
and stun the local beauties.

I can see the Caucasus you did not improve your ways.

Don't be angry.
Fine.

Uncle, bring us wine and pipes!

No, wait, we're in a hurry,
we're expected somewhere else.

No, if you please.
I see you have not dropped your poetry.

Yes, I've been writing, I've been writing a lot.

Here, ideas for poems are just lying around,
like the pebbles on the road.

You know, I've moved the setting of "The Demon" to the Caucasus.

"Now o'er Caucasian heights with pinions slow
The outcast spirit steered his course; below,

"Gleamed like a diamond facet Kasbek's snow,
And, in the deep-cleft gorge, where dragons hide,

"He saw the Darial like a serpent glide;
The Terek foamed, a lion with bristling mane.

"Plunging in cataracts to the distant plain,
And beasts and birds, that high in ether soar,

Well, how is it?

Definitely better than youngsters raving about Spain,
where I've never been?

It's fine. Come on, let's go.

Wait, I ...

And you know, three days ago a monk of Mtskheta
told me a wonderful story.

I must find it now.

About a youth called Mtsyri.

Mtsyri means ... a novice.

Forgive me, Martishka ...

Forgive me, Martishka ...

Forgive me, Martishka ...

request the honour of your company at the wedding
of our daughter Nina Alexandrovna with Prince ...

Some bad news?

No, no.

You know, Martishka...

Why don't we celebrate our meeting?

In memory of the good old hussar times.

We'll invite singers, k*ll some bottles.

Michael, that's how I like you!

Bravo, Cornet!

Bull's eye, gentlemen!

Today you are lucky,
the g*ns and the money are yours.

I'm lucky today, you - all the time.

Misha!

To General Martynov!

... the future General

Why not to Lieutenant Lermontov?
.. the future lieutenant

No, it's my fate to remain a cornet.

If I wanted to be a general,
then only in Russian literature.

To the health of the General of Russian Literature!

¶ Where are friends of the past years?

¶ Where are the pukka Hussars?

¶ the charismatic speakers

¶ the grizzled drinking buddies?

¶ And now what do I see? - I'm aghast!

¶ the hussars in fashionable society,

¶ In uniform, in dress-shoes,

¶ waltzing on the dance floor!

¶ They say they are smarter ...

¶ But what do we hear from them?

¶ Jomini and Jomini!

¶ And not one syllable about vodka!

¶ Jomini, Jomini!

¶ And not one syllable about vodka!

Gentlemen!

What? What happened?

Something's come up ...

Pour some more ...

no more of that hellish stuff,
my throat gets burned by these Asian liquids.

Let him sing

I'll tell him you're a Russian bard
and he will sing in your honour

All right.

[Georgian song]

wonderful

wonderful

Vache,

what was he singing about?

Translate it, Vache.

- Vache.
- Well, how can I say, Misha ...

He sang of the man in the tiger's skin,
how the young man defeated the tiger.

wonderful

a wonderful song

thank you

This is unnecessary, Cornet, you gave money and that's enough,
but why hobnob with dirty Asians?

What gives you the right to treat honest people like this?
Your uniform?

You're wearing the same uniform as we are.

Yes, I'm ashamed, it is the same as yours.

You forget why you were sent to the Caucasus, Cornet?

No, I'll never forget it!

As your superior officer, I order you to shut up!

Calm down, gentlemen.

Are you challenging me to a duel, Major?

No, I'm not duelling with rebels.

So you don't want to be a target.

For shame, Misha!
... what are you doing?

You can all go to hell!

Misha, wait! Misha!

He's mad, gentlemen!

He forgot all his former experiences: Friends, enemies, the melancholy of exile.
And he embrace nature with his soul like a bride in a rendez-vous.
(Lermontov, 'Ismail Bey')

My master hasn't been here for four days,
they already asked about him at headquarters.

All he does is, go up to the mountains.
What does he find in the mountains, I wonder?

Well, I'll come some other time then.

Tell him that Odoyevski called.
Remember: Odoyevski.

Odoyevski ...

Misha. Misha.

Sasha! Sasha, my dear!

Well hello, Misha. You didn't expect me?

How I've missed you, Sasha.

How good it is that you're here.

You know, my head's dizzy from the smell of the local roses.

And your face has gotten dark, you've lost weight,
are you healthy?

I'm healthy, healthy ...

You're probably tired, let's go.

Let's go, I'll give you some Kizlyar wine.

My friend, an exile is always an exile,
even if it's to the most magical place on earth.

"Like a sweet song from one's homeland
I love the Caucasus"

That's well put, Misha.

At times it seems to me the Caucasus is my second home.

Maybe because I know these mountains from my childhood.

But now I would give my left arm
to be transferred to Moscow or to St. Petersburg.

And I'd give the rest of my life
for just one summer evening in the country,
hearing the noise of the old linden trees ...

Alexander, you already have Siberia behind you,
we'll be together in St. Petersburg, we will.

Misha, you know that I won't be pardoned.

But you are zealous in drill and service.

If I were the Tsar,
I'd summon Private Odoyevski and say:

"What's the matter with you, my friend,
why don't you blacken your moustache?

"Your tunic is all crumpled and not fit to wear.
How can you expect the highest favors?"

And he'd show Odoyevskiy "the fig".

You know that the Tsar pardoned
almost nobody of the Dekabrist rebels.

But you shall go back to Russia.

Misha, you're needed there.

You have been given a great gift,
a lot will be expected of you.

You must write, write with blood, with all your heart,
invest in a pen all that's human in you.

Don't you understand? If you won't,
then who will write the truth about our cursed times?

"Lermontov returned from the Caucasus, filled with inspiration.
He was received with great anticipation in the capital.
He'd sacrificed himself for Pushkin and now he was going to be the successor of his glory."
(A.N. Muravev: Introduction to the Russian poets)

Alexander Filippitch?
Just listen ...

Oh this Lermontov ...

"The sullen and soon forgotten crowd.
We pass through the world noiselessly, without leaving a trace.

"Not bequeathing a single fecund idea to the centuries,
not a single sketch worthy of genius.

- What a deep and powerful spirit!
- Yes indeed.

He will be a Russian poet as great as the Grand Duke Ivan.

I can't remember such a success since the times of "Onegin"!

It's a real feast for the publishers.

In this case you're about to have a great feast today:

That's Mr. Lermontov himself.

Mr. Lermontov,

it's an honour, I'm so happy.

Come with me please.

Here Alexander Pushkin and Alexander Griboyedov used to sit.

Mr. Belinsky ... we're old acquaintances,
from the years at the Moscow University.
- Yes, indeed.

Please, gentlemen.

The Caucasian nature is described with great poetic feeling.

- Anybody can do this nowadays, ma'am ...
- Here are some fashion magazines.
- You're welcome.

Send them to Mr. Zhukovsky.

Can I help you, madam?

Do you have the Lermontov story "Bella?"

Unfortunately all the editions are sold out.

What a pity.

Ma'am, I'll try to find one for you.

You know, Gogol wrote to me from Rome.

He asked me to tell you to take care of yourself.

In Russia, there are very few poets
and their fate is bitter.

- So Gogol advises you to ...
- Behave decently, quietly, modestly.

Behave like this?

Mr. Belinsky ...

In your articles you have shown
that you understand the soul of a poet.

Explain to me why our great Russian writer,

Nikolai Gogol,

and my grandmother, are conspiring.

After all, my grandmother too advised me to take care of myself:

- Coddle my throat, afraid of catching cold ...
- Mikhail Yuriyevich,

I've read your "Duma" poem,

I know every line you wrote.

This could only have been written by a man with soul and talent,

rather than by an empty-headed officer
engaged in balls, affairs, the service.

I'm not a poet,

I'm an officer.

I have no time for poetry.

I'm attending the changing of the guards, parades, balls ...

- Or maybe you want me to quite the service?
- Quit?

No, it's impossible to quit the service of poetry.

It's a pity,

a great pity.

When a poet dies,

nobody could find the words to honour his memory.

Thus Pushkin died.

Rileyev died.

Now Odoyevski.

What was that!

The poet Odoyevski died in the Caucasus.

The man to whom I owe more than to all of you.

He died in the Caucasus,

in exile, alone.

If he had written some poems before his death,
neither you nor I shall ever see them.

We shall be forbidden to pronounce his name.

We shall be forbidden to remember him.

Before he died, the Private Odoyevski,

in his feverish agony,
constantly called for Lt. Lermontov.

They couldn't understand the exact words,

but judging by the tone of his voice,
his speech contained the hope that Lermontov, as a great poet,

might ignite the flames of indignation against the injustice of the state
and the spiritual poverty of the ruling classes.

"On his deathbed the dying man's tongue speaks the truth."

Wise words, Your Excellency.

In addition, allow me to report that the poems by Lt. Lermontov

"Don't Believe Yourself", "The Thought", "Poet"
are exciting the minds of the people.

Wait a minute. And do you know that
Lt. Lermontov wrote an odious epigram

about the son of the French Envoy de Barante?

I don't have the honor to know it, Your Excellency.

In such cases, I advise you to answer:
"Yes, I know it, Your Excellency."

And if de Barante doesn't know about this epigram yet,

then let him know.

Yes, Your Excellency.

The Emperor graciously acknowledged the other day:
"Poetry is an expl*sive substance".

What are you going to do, Lermontov?

I?

Celebrate the promotion to the rank of lieutenant.

Pluck the flowers of pleasure.

Nothing has changed here.

Who is this pensive officer?

Lt. Lermontov, Your Highness.

The same? The poet?

Yes, Your Highness.

Exiled from paradise.

Thank God, he's not as ugly as Pushkin.

You're showered with victories
like Danae - with a rain of gold.

Do you know that lady in the domino?

Don't deny it, you know her.

That's Her Highness.

Ah! A Tsar's daughter pretending to be somebody else.

A masked ball!

What a pity that the days are gone
when poets and minstrels used to live at the court of kings.

We try to tame them, Your Highness, but ...

But what the strong cannot accomplish,
sometimes a woman can.

I bet you anything
that this poet may have an unexpected fortune at court.

Est-ce un poète? Non, c'est un rien.

I'd say, rather fit for the guillotine.

Russia is not France, Baron.

Well, then the gallows.

Are you so fascinated by Circassian women
that you now hate all Russian women?

- I'll send you my album, and you'll write me a madrigal.
- Certainly, certainly.

In St. Petersburg, there's so much talk about you,
Mr. Famous Poet.

I'm not a poet, Mask,
I'm just a Lieutenant of the Guards.

Yes, but your talent equals you with the general.

My talent?

No, I'm just a fashion.

Like a bonnet brought over from Paris.

Sir Walter Scott sang the praises of your Scottish ancestors,
do you remember?

Chasing a deer, your ancestor came
to the palace of a fairy princess, do you remember?

We must have a talk about Walter Scott,
one day, at court.

I don't like Walter Scott.

And besides, I don't like the deer that run into the palace,
I prefer those who run away from it.

Yes, but if they leave the palace lawns,
they might catch the b*ll*ts of the guards.

Did you know that, Mr. Poet?

Well, I'm used to the whistling of b*ll*ts,
Your Highness.

My father always says:

you only hear the whistle of those b*ll*ts that pass you by.

Lermontov?

What did you tell Her Highness?

- I don't remember.
- I insist that you tell me.

With whom do I have the honour?

I'm not kidding, Lieutenant.

And I'm just laughing. Laughing hard!

Lieutenant Lermontov!

You can challenge me, Alexander!

You'd have a lovely chance
to fly right to top of the palace stairs.

Or maybe even higher!

To the Heavens!

Her Highness' carriage!

Her Highness' carriage!

Her Highness' carriage!

You are so jealous, Prince.

You are pale, chérie?

Are you tired?

I beg you, have a rest.

Sit down.

I didn't have the honour to be present at your wedding.
The Caucasus is far away.

Allow me now to congratulate you

on your acquisition of the title of Princess.

Thank you.

Please have pity, Michel.

Congratulations!

This evening you became the most fashionable man in all Petersburg.

All the people here are talking about you.

Mon dieu, comme bien

One poet,
unable to find himself a fortune at court,

and now he's written some pretty epigrams.

et voila pourquoi:

And one of them closely concerns you.

- Would you like to hear it?
- S'il vous plait.

Merci.

Lermontov!

- I do not like your epigram.
- How?

Are you also a member of the censorship office?

commet a-t-on pris
mon meilleur ami M. le baron Charles d'Anthès

Please proceed.

He fought a duel with a Russian poet.

Pushkin, dear sir, belongs to eternity.

And Pushkin's name is sacred to us.

But when we want to say "k*ller",
we say "d'Anthès."

voila
(if we were in France I'd challenge you)

In your country duels are prohibited.

Vous n'êtes pas en France, Monsieur!

In Russia, M. le Baron,
we strictly follow the rules of honour,

as in any other country,

including yours.

We Russians will not allow anyone to insult us with impunity.

Lieutenant!

I'm at your disposal, M. le Baron.

Merci.
Merci, monsieur. merci.

Messieurs

attention gentlemen

- Vour êtes en place
merci Monsieur

Merci

You know, the grass still has a smell.

Just like in my grandmother's village

the smell of the logs in the walls.

I'd give all of this pricely dead stuff

for a pile of note paper and a bunch of sharpened pens.

Take up you positions, gentlemen ...

Well, Misha ...

Proceed!

The Lieutenant of the Life Guards Hussar Regiment Lermontov
after admitting having fought a duel, was arrested
and facing a court-martial at the Guards Cuirassier Division."
signed Feldschermeister General Mikhail.
(order 138 of 11th March 1840 to the Guards Corps)

Please go in.

Excuse me, Mikhail Yuriyevich.

Excuse me, I applied for this visit,

because I feel I'm your friend.

Maybe you don't want my visit?

Don't be absurd!

Please be seated.

The last time we didn't finish our conversation.

Remember, in Smirdin's bookshop?

And here it will be even more convenient.

It's the only place in Russia
where you can speak freely.

Still, we'd better lower our voices.

Please.

What's going on in St. Petersburg?

What's going on in St. Petersburg ...

St. Petersburg has not yet overcome her astonishment
that M. de Barante,

who wanted to k*ll you, still walks about free.

- You are again facing exile.
- No.

I was pardoned.

The Emperor changed the sentence from exile
to a transfer to the Tenghinsky Infantry Regiment.

The Caucasus.

Yes, of course, exile isn't a death threat.

But in the Caucasus you face death at every turn.

Such is the Imperial pardon.

Take care of yourself, Lermontov.

I offended you the last time we met,
and maybe now you will be annoyed too.

For I know that a man with your soul
cannot be intimidated, nor confused,

but I'm afraid that you will lose faith.

You vehemently deny the present,
and maybe you'll lose your faith in the future.

Time corrects errors.

I believe that the world shall be arranged according to a reasonable plan.

Just think.
Your poems will be read not only by your contemporaries.

But you know all this yourself.

What should I do?

Live.

Live as they have lived, Goethe, Byron, Pushkin.

Stop it!
I'm not fit to sharpen their pens.

You are the best poet of Russia.

I'm a lieutenant in the Tenghinsky Regiment.

But believe me, Mr. Belinsky,
that the banner of my regiment

shall not be disgraced by Lt. Lermontov.

I shall do my duty like any brave Russian soldier.

Give a fool enough rope ...

Send for this fool.

Commander of the Vanguard, to the General!

Commander of the Vanguard to the General!

What's the matter?

Just an ordinary order.
As if coming from the late Alexander Suvorov.

Break through, get around them and sh**t.
And you're drumming the retreat!

- You've ruined the whole operation for me.
- But Your Excellency,

this bridge is impossible to pass:

there are six g*ns and they're firing from above.

The men can't advance.

- Because they're not properly led!
- Oh, a rhyme!

What was that?

And what do you want here, Mr. Poet?

I don't need any of your phrases.
Dismissed!

Here they are, your rhymes!

Thank you, Your Excellency!

- Your Excellency, allow me to report ...
- Your sword.

Yes, Your Excellency.
The situation, Your Excellency ...

Take the sword.
Yessir.

Who's riding over there?

- Lt. Lermontov, by your order.
- Rubbish! Field glasses.

Hurrah!

Here it is, the soldier's will-power!

Onward! Hurrah!

"Today have shown distinguished courage and dedication under enemy fire
Lt. Count Lambert of His Majesty's Cavalry Regiment and Lt. Lermontov of the Tenghinsky Infantry Regiment."
From a regimental report on the left flank of the Caucasus front.

Lt. Lermontov to the General!

Lt. Lermontov to the General!

I don't like poetry. I don't like it.

But your rhymes burned right into my heart.

Like this ...

"There was such a battle, as they say, such splendid fighting"

"No wonder all Russia remembers the day of Borodino. "

I'll be damned, it's great.

Well, who could write such poetry?

No one. Only you.

But was told not to favour you, my dear.

Neither distinguish nor favour you.

Hey, whom did you annoy so much, in St. Petersburg?

I think, myself, Your Excellency.

Well, since I was told not to favour you,

then I'll have to punish you.

Voytinsky forest - one.
Valerik river - two.

And that damned devil of a bridge - three.

Who gave you permission to look for trouble,
dear sir?

Listen:

I can't make you do guard duty here.

You shall go to Pyatigorsk.

Yes, yes, yes, mineral springs.

And there you'll write some poetry for me.

Under the lime trees.

And not under the cannon balls.

Your Excellency, have pity.
b*ll*ts don't hit me, upon my honour, I swear.

Oh really?

A gypsy foretold me that I won't die from a b*llet.
But from an evil woman.

Oh oh oh. That's enough.
Don't try to fool me.

Pyatigorsk, and that's final.

In Pyatigorsk.

Nonsense.

In the end, it was trifling quarrel.

No, no.
In matters of honour I'm a pedant.

There's a limit to everything, my friend.

- Yes, he always insolent.
- A poet ...

We're both poets.

And we both have written good poems.

Listen to me.

Here's one.

This is it.

"I swear by the first day of creation.

- "I swear by its final day.
- Bravo, bravo.

That's right, its final day.
I positively admire how naive you are.

- Who?
- Careful, Prince!

And yet,

why should you be angry because of the rhymes.
It's all about vanity, prejudice, honour ..

A duel?

Let's be peaceful, Nicolas.

Let this naughty Michel scribble all sorts of epigrams about us,
because he's the poet elect.

Well, if he apologizes, I'm willing to forget.

Forget, Nicolas.

What is this busy world to us?

We don't care what they say in St. Petersburg,
when they learn that a former Guardsman evaded a duel.

Again, be careful, Prince!

Be above it.

Let them talk.

"Armed on all sides:
mustache, daggers, and a horn"

You don't say!

Excuse me, we've heard this with our own ears.

Gentlemen, what did he say?

"A g*ng of loafers, armed with lorgnettes.

Well, I would never have forgiven this.

But you forgave him his
"Major dagger, furious g*n"?

- and the last one, "armed on all sides:
- "mustache, daggers, and a horn"

Enough!

I'll challenge him.

Gentlemen ...

You're the guardian of our honor, our benefactor!

Bravo, Martynov!

July 15, 1841

"A Hero of Our Time"

We're nearing Pyatigorsk.

I have high hopes in Pyatigorsk's fresh air.

We also mustn't forget
about the excellent effect of the mineral waters.

The air, ma chère, and water, ma chère.
And the main thing - rest.

Rest. Rest.

I'm very tired. And I'm thirsty.

Of course, chérie. Here you are.

I'll have to stop at some dukhan.

Your Excellency! Your Excellency!

Come in, Your Excellency!

We have the best Caucasian snacks.

Would you like wine, chérie?

- I'll order some.
- Maybe.

- Ossetian? Kizlyar?
- Wait. I'll chose myself.
- Very well, Your Excellency!

Would you like to join me?

No thank you. I'm very tired.

And the air is intoxicating, like old wine.

A poet is needed here.

What a pity that Lermontov not with us today.

And I, on the contrary, am very happy.
Since the Lord Byron of the Penza province appeared in our Pyatigorsk ...

- You have become a favourite target of his poems.
- Yes, he stings like an evil wasp.

However not for this.

Don't you think that it's time
to teach our dear Michel a good lesson?

Yes, his witticisms.

- Boris ... - Yes?

Actually, everything has been decided.

- The terms of the duel will be the following:
- What duel?

Barrier at 10 steps.

Pistols: Kuchenreuther, the biggest caliber.

And in case of a miss, to sh**t at least 3 times.

Why, Prince. You're going to challenge Lermontov?

Remember his favorite game of the ace.

He's a crack shot, he sh**t into the bull's eye.

And you are going to challenge him?

No, I'll just act as his second.

Who is going to sh**t?

Martynov.

Martynov?

They're old friends from school,
when they managed to quarrel?

I fail to understand.

The shot that will be fired here, he ...

In short, the duel will take place today at 7 pm.

Your Excellency, please.

I've met here a whole party of society people.

My God!

What's the matter with you?

Chérie! Chérie!

Why have we stopped here?

But you want to rest.

Let's leave. Let's leave for Pyatigorsk right now.

Quick, tell them to drive away at once.

And don't object.
I want it so much.

- Hurry!
- Quick, Dunyasha!

- Well, tell me.
- They aren't at home.

The Commandant also sent for him.
They're are gone.

You know, Michel, someone out there infuriated Martynov
and he won't hear of a reconciliation.

And here I am, supposed to be writing poems under the lime trees.

It's much quieter under the cannon balls.

Where are you going? Michel?

You know, they are waiting.

Let them wait.

It's stupid to go and sh**t at each other on such a wonderful day.

What?

I don't understand.

Michel!

Michel,

drop those inappropriate jokes.

Listen Vasilchikov,
I've been wanting to ask you for a long time.

Why do you hate me so?

What's that?

Why do you hate me so?

I?

But ...

But Michel!

Don't be embarrassed.

I've know this for a long time.

Well, let's go.

Understand that one mustn't be late for a ball or a duel.

Death can wait.

July 15, 1841

This comedy must be finished before this thunderstorm.

Or we'll risk getting wet to the skin.

You know, Troubetskoy has cooked our dinner with champagne.

- You see. Another reason for us to hurry.
- Well, of course.

Gentlemen, for the last time I suggest you make peace.

Gentlemen, be friends as before.

Well, I'm ready.

Misha,

I beg you, cover your heart with your g*n.
Will you?

Proceed!

sh**t, or I will separate you.

Misha!

Misha!

Misha! Misha!

M.Yu. Lermontov
July 15, 1841

"The time is near when his name in literature will become popular,
and the harmonic sounds of his poetry will be heard in everyday conversation,
between talks on everyday worries ... " Vissarion Belinsky, 1840.

The end of the film