i only know that nelyubov was invited to his estate by ustimovich, ustimovich, but, but the french were of visiting ustimovich? have you heard what bolkhovskoy said about men? yes, i’m thinking more and more about their patience, what are they fighting for? behind. russia for what russia denis vasilyevich, we should go there, my god, are we really going to see katrina today if we don’t the french will interfere, here they have arrived, there seem to be no french, but there is no one, eh. the other door is also covered with snow, break it down, vaska, now. there’s someone in the house, it must be a ghost, we’ll scout around, you’re fiddling around, you’re gone, you’re completely weak, you’re gone. denis vasilievich. denis vasilich, alive, forgive me, god knows what i thought, ustimovich, just like that, a meeting , everything is burning all around, and you, have our people arrived, soon, what a blessing, we’ve heard a lot about you, denis, and where is the count, where is katrin, you left together, my god, you didn’t do anything you know, the count was killed, we were attacked. he died i

ustimovich, boil it, katrin, who are you? it's me, catherine.am, it’s me, katrin, i, i ’m happy to see you, calm down, katrin. prince balkhovskaya also died, who told you, they told me who was alive this morning, healthy, fighting in the vanguard. i was deceived. moscow has fallen, the french are all around , i believed as you could, i am happy for you , i must see him, i will go to him, nothing will stop me, no one can interfere. i’ll take you to the prince, talk them out of beckett , talk him out of it, this is madness, colonel, i ’ll go with you, apparently, we have a meeting with the ladies, hope we’re going to headquarters. return to the detachment, monitor the owl, wait for us. yes, you won’t catch up with denis vasilievich. come on. haunted. but, but strays, don’t awaken, don’t awaken, my madness and don’t return steps, flight dreams, don’t return, and don’t return fleeting dreams, don’t return, don’t repeat to me the name of the one who is the memory of the torment of life, like the song of the fatherland in a foreign land, to an exile o