All language subtitles for Onegin.1999.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS

Summoned to the sick bed.

Oh, God.

The dying platitudes of the half-dead.

Arranging the pillows...

the stench.

All the time thinking...

When will the Devil take him?

When will the Devil come for me?

When will the Devil take me?

To friends.

Be quiet!

Age has withered her.

And wither my desire.

Onegin.

You're a man of...

exotic tastes.

Would you?

Could you?

I have.

Once.

For a bet.

Well, in that case,

what about...

the charming Princess Volkonsky?

Or perhaps our delightful hostess?

Her mother.

Or both together?

Has our philanderer an assignation?

No, gentlemen.

Another courtesan?

A headache.

Until tomorrow.

And tomorrow.

And tomorrow.

I can't afford her anymore.

When will the Devil take me?

Invitations.

Invitations.

Invitations.

What's this?

My uncle...

is dying.

Finally.

He wants me to visit him,
pay my respects.

Oh, God.

The sick bed.

Administering medicine.

If I might say, sir...

his passing may prove
to your benefit financially.

Yes, Guillot.

Needs must.

He hoped to see you before he died.

I woke your uncle at dawn.

Anisia,

I will follow a different regime
to that of my uncle.

The notary's here to see you.

"I, Nikolai Alexeyich Onegin,

born in the year 1768,

being in healthy mind
and stable memory,

departing from this
transitory world to face God,

leave all the real estate

and other property
that belongs to me to...

the only son of my younger brother,

Evgeny Vassilych Onegin.

I leave my Pokrovskyoe Estate
in the Pskov Province

with a twenty window stone house.

I leave my 500 souls,

who have loved and respected
and worked hard

for their master.

I leave the villages...

Gorelovo, Tushino, Babkino.

And I leave...

the water meadows that lie
along the Sorot River,

the twin lakes at Kosogorovo.

I leave my own house in Moscow,

"near the Church of
the Raising of the Cross."

I'll leave these documents for you.

Should they meet with your approval,

sign this.

I saw you with a young girl yesterday.

Who was she?

A local girl.

Your uncle lent her books.

And you are
continuing this noble condition?

Yes.

This is the book she borrowed?

Yes.

Some landowners came to see you
while you were out.

No visitors.

Supposing they call again?

Tell them I'm...

I'm in mourning.

Bravo!

You're poaching.

Who are you?

- I could shoot you.
- But...

I've been hunting
in these woods all my life.

My name's Lensky.

Vladimir Lensky?

From Krasmagorin.

No, can't say I've heard of it.

It's the neighbouring estate.

So?

So, it's a tradition.

Our estate's has mutual hunting
rights with this one for centuries.

Yes, but I don't.

You're old Onegin's nephew, aren't you?

And if I was?

I'd bow.

Then bow.

So...

are you going to shoot me then?

Maybe for your warbling.

Poor Schubert.

His body barely in the grave
and his work butchered by amateurs.

Have you eaten?

No.

- Are you hungry?
- Yes.

Then come and have lunch.

- Then you'll shoot me?
- Only if you're dull.

And bring your spoils...

mine.

At least the dogs

appreciate Anisia's rustic cooking.

As do I.

But then I'm not accustomed to
the fine cuisine of Petersburg.

Do you plan to stay here?

Maybe.

You surprise me.

Why?

Surely it's no more surprising than

the graduate of a great
German university pursuing his...

poetic ambitions here in the country.

But that's different, you see.

I was born here.

My inspiration is here.

Your inspiration?

A woman.

I'm sorry.

But...

don't you long to
return to glamorous Petersburg

and squander your inheritance?

On what?

Petersburg, Monday night.

The Vorontsovs asphyxiated all evening

by the Herculean halitosis
of General Dachov.

Tuesday night. Chevalier Guards Ball.

A heaving pack of furs and spurs.

Wednesday, a salon,
listening to a young poet's

insufferably vapid verses.

No offence.

And I could continue.

It sounds terrible.

It is.

Thank you for lunch.

- I must go.
- Go?

- Where is there to go?
- I'm expected somewhere.

- Where?
- The Larins.

- Who are they?
- Neighbors.

Neighbors?

Tell me...

I'm intrigued. What do you talk about?

Animal husbandry?

Or jam-making?

Or do you all gather around
the piano and sing off-key?

Surely no worse than Petersburg.

Touché.

Please come again.

Is that an order?

- No, it's a request.
- Well, I shall consider it.

Have a pleasant evening with your...

your inspiration.

You should come and meet her.

Maybe.

Why on earth not?

They're all longing to meet you.

Oh, dear.

Neighbors.

Hello?

Hello?

They must be in the garden.

I'll go find them.

Hello?

Hello?

- Over here.
- Ah, there you are.

By the wide Volchina

Blooms the Guelder Rose.

White as snow it blossoms.

Tall and fair it grows.

Underneath its branches...

Stands a lovelorn maid,

Thinking of the horseman.

Why is she afraid?

Your daughter sings well.

I fear she does not.
But it's kind of you to say so.

Lingonberry water, Monsieur Onegin?

Thank you.

It can be rather bitter.

No, it's most refreshing.

- Are you enjoying the country?
- Most pleasurable, yes.

I imagine you find it rather
lacking in sophistication.

No, not at all.

No, my lovely maiden...

You are in the wrong.

Will you be staying long?

I haven't decided yet.

You're fortunate to have the choice.

- Marriage brought me here.
- Your husband is?

- Consumption.
- I'm sorry.

You must sing this song.

When I first met Onegin,

he told me my singing
desecrated Schubert.

Yes, but now Mademoiselle Olga
has erased the memory.

Thank you, Monsieur Onegin.

Should I sing another?

There isn't time. We'll be dining soon.

Afterwards, perhaps.

Yes, I could sing
the song I wrote for you.

Monsieur Onegin, this is
my other daughter, Tatyana.

You don't believe me. I'm serious.

I always believe you.

It's wonderful to meet you at last.
I've heard so much about you.

Tell me, are you acquainted
with Vladimir's poems?

Sadly, no.

- He reads them aloud to me.
- A poet must address his muse.

After he publishes his collection,
we hope to live in Petersburg.

- Perhaps we'll be neighbours.
- Perhaps.

I'll look forward to it.

Lovers, eh?

They live in a dream
and pay no attention to reality.

Mademoiselle Olga,

if you want to live in the monde,

you will have to
improve your conversation.

Monsieur Triquet is attempting
to introduce my daughters

to the greater subtleties
of the French language...

and to some of the more
fashionable ideas of the day.

Russia has but the facade

of a civilized society.

At heart, she's uncouth,

devoid of delicacy.

Which is why...

and understanding of France

and her literature is de rigoeur in society.

You think so?

I believe you are from Petersburg,
Monsieur Onegin.

Indeed.

- Do you know it?
- Of course.

I was in the emploi of the Buranov family.

Naturally you know the General
and his charming wife.

Buranov?

Yes, it does sound familiar.
Wasn't there some scandal?

The youngest daughter and her tutor?

That was another Buranov family.

Possibly.

- So that is a yes?
- Yes.

Monsieur Onegin,

Andre Petrovich is interested,

as your neighbour, to know what
you intend with your uncle's estate.

I had to confess I had no idea.

Do with it?

Will you stay and farm it yourself?

No, I propose to rent it.

Rent it? To whom?

To the people who farm it.

Serfs?

Serfdom is a feudal practice.

No civilized society should condone it.

I'll drink to that.

Preposterous.

Dangerous.

Your uncle did not leave you
his estate to serve your whim.

Is there a good reason to be bound
by the wishes of the dead?

I think there is every good reason.

This country has no need of
political experiments.

Why should one human own another
because of an accident of birth?

Tatyana...

you do have some odd ideas.

Real life brings us all to our senses.

Don't you think, Monsieur Onegin?

It hasn't brought me to mine.

Yes?

When might we... might you,

be returning home, to Petersburg, sir?

There a number of
imminent engagements.

Cancel them.

Sir?

Cancel them.

You astonish me, sir.

I astonish myself.

Mademoiselle Larin.

Monsieur Onegin.

You've come alone?

I was wondering if I might borrow a book.

Any particular book?

A novel, perhaps?

Any particular novel?

No.

Come.

Are you familiar with Richardson?

Yes, I am.

I find him quite verbose.

Verbose?

My mother is suspicious of
the influence of literature.

The influence on whom?

Anyone.

Me, really.

But my uncle wasn't.
It seems he was fond of you.

I read to him when he became ill.

That was kind of you.

He was kind to me after my father died.

May I look?

Please.

Product of idleness.

Idleness.

Are these your friends?

No, acquaintances.

Is Petersburg really as you draw it?

I draw it as I see it.

Strange.

You don't share your sister's
craving for the city.

I like the country.

This may interest you.

I've just had it sent.

Rousseau's...

"La Nouvelle Heloise".

It's a novel of letters
passed between two lovers.

I should go.

- As you wish.
- Thank you.

Were you serious about
renting your land to the serfs?

Yes, yes.

But the truth is I'm idle,
Mademoiselle Larin.

I don't want the responsibility
of managing the estate myself.

I'm sorry if I disappoint you.

Twelve!

Twelve bounces. Did you see that?

Come on, you give it a try.

- Very good.
- It's not easy.

You see, it's all in
the flatness of the stone

and the action of the wrist.

You're right, it's not easy.

- You're restless, aren't you?
- Am I?

I'm resting.

Perfectly content?

Let the indescribable remain so.

Monsieur Onegin, you are
indescribably pretentious.

Evgeny, would you
read some of my poems?

Why?

I'd appreciate your opinion.

My praise, you mean.

I can take criticism, you know.

A freak amongst poets.

Why assume my work is bad?

I don't. I'm sure it's...

superb.

Well read it, damn you!

- Look, it's Tanya.
- Tanya?

Tatyana, Olga's sister.

She's always wandering about here.

If I'd been a poet, like you,

I suspect I'd have chosen
Tatyana rather than Olga.

I thought you liked Olga.

Well, I do.

So why do you prefer her sister?

I don't. I merely said:
"If I'd been a poet, like you,

I think I'd have chosen
Tatyana rather than Olga."

What's wrong with Olga?

Nothing. She's...

perfectly...

- Perfectly what?
- Perfectly perfect.

You love her and she loves you...

But you think Tatyana is... what?

I don't think Tatyana is anything.

It must be very comforting
to be so certain of your opinions.

To feel so at home in the world.

I don't feel at home anywhere.

Why are you so offended?
I merely remarked that...

I'm bored of your remarks.

You think Olga's provincial, don't you?

Yes.

Yes, I do. And so do you,
if you're honest.

And me... am I provincial in your mind?

Yes, yes, very.

Please Evgeny, don't joke.

I'm not.

Well, if I'm not
sophisticated enough for you,

why do we spend all this time together?

Your sophistication
or lack of it is irrelevant to me.

Is it?

Oh, hurry up, Nanya.

- Let her do it.
- What's the point?

I know who I'm going to marry.

You'll marry a soldier.

You always say that.

And Vladimir Lensky is the least
soldierly man in all of Russia.

You will also marry a soldier.

But I don't know any soldiers.

You will.

What does it say now?

You can't change your fate.

Why not?

I can't sleep.

I can't sleep.

Can't sleep?

It's so hot.

Tell me of when you were young.

When I was young?

Were you in love?

Those days, we'd never heard of love.

But you were married.

That was God's will.

I was only thirteen.

And my Vanya was even younger.

Spent all my time crying.

They untwined my plait,

and led me to the altar.

You're not listening.

What is it?

Are you sick?

I'm not sick.

I'm not sick.

We'll have to ask
the officers from the garrison.

Why?

Nanya said Tatyana was
going to marry a soldier.

She also said you'd marry one.

And I will.

I will marry the soldier
who has conquered my heart.

- It's your move.
- Is it?

You've just take your own rook.

- Have I?
- Yes.

We should invite Monsieur Onegin.

We should, I suppose.

Out of respect to his uncle.

We should ask Tatyana.
It's her name day, after all.

Tanya?

I don't think he'd want to come.

No, he won't.

He's above our country ways.

I think he believes himself to be.

I thought you were friends.

We are, but...

we had a disagreement.

Politics?

No.

About me?

- Oh, no, no.
- I bet it was.

Is he my secret admirer?

Did you have to defend my honour?

What did you argue about?

Nothing of consequence.

I think he needs a friend like you.

Is that you're way of saying
you'd like him at your name day?

A drink for Monsieur?

Yes, I'll pass them. Come on, everyone.

Tatyana, Monsieur Triquet's waiting.

Ladies and gentlemen, please.

Silence, please.

Silence!

Thank you.

En celebration of her name day,

I would like to share with you

a short ode I have composed

in honour of our dear Tatyana.

We're listening, sir.

"This day we celebrate,

in admiration of beauty and charm.

Her sweet and enchanting look

shines on us,

all of us,

"illuminating us with her light."

Didn't I say "don't be late"?

Then why are you late?

"Shine forever...

beautiful Tatyana."

I thought you said "a small gathering".

I lied.

Thank you for your letter.

I would like to apologize.

I shouldn't have declared my feelings.

But you would not be yourself,
had you not.

I admired your letter.

Admired?

Yes.

Your candour.

I was moved by it.

However, I would not wish you to feel...

compromised by it being
in my possession.

It's yours.

Please.

It's yours.

Love...

I am told, heightens our senses,

but lowers our perception.

I'm not someone who is
made for love or marriage.

You do not return my feelings?

I cannot.

Can't you see where this leads?

A declaration.

A kiss.

A wedding, family.

Obligation.

Boredom.

Adultery.

Is that really the future
you had in mind for yourself?

No.

No.

I believe in the possibility of...

Of what?

I'm sorry if I upset you.

But please believe me,
I say this for your own good.

You are young and impressionable.

Anyone, any stranger could have
stumbled into your life

and aroused your romantic imagination.

I'm sorry if I've led you
to believe I'm something else.

Do you feel nothing?

No, I...

I am fond of you.

I think that you are...

I think that...

you are charming,

and I'm distressed you're in pain.

But...

the pain you feel today will,
I suspect, leave you quite soon.

I think it will evaporate.

And then you'll be surprised
that you ever felt for me.

And in time you'll meet someone
more deserving of your love.

It's the future you predict for me?

Yes.

You interpret my heart,

my nature, as you wish.

In truth,

I have no secret longing
to be saved from myself.

I think we should return to your guests.

You curse yourself.

Who are you looking for?

You.

Thank you.

Mademoiselle.

May I have the pleasure
of the next dance?

Just one more dance, please.

- But you promised.
- Please.

Please.

Please.

What the hell are you doing?

I'm dancing with Olga.

You're seducing the woman I love!

Aren't you?

If that were true, it would not be difficult.

You're blind.

Your fiancée is young and foolish.

And easy.

Monsieur Triquet?

Monsieur Triquet,
have you seen Vladimir?

How beautiful you are, my angel.

Come here a moment. Sit next to me.

What?

What's the matter?

It's only me.

Have you heard from Vladimir?

No, why?

You read so much into everything.

Look.

There he is. He's here.

I've missed you.

I've missed you.

Where have you been?

I looked everywhere for you.
You disappeared.

I left early.

- Will you forgive me?
- There is nothing to forgive.

I shouldn't have danced with him.

Come here.

Come.

You weren't jealous, were you?

You...

mean the world to me.

And you to me.

My love.

I'll come by tomorrow. In the afternoon?

I'll be here.

Yes.

A finely worded challenge.

I congratulate you.

A shame it should be inspired
by a misunderstanding so...

easily resolved.

You have gravely insulted your opponent.

This is his only means of satisfaction.

And I'm sure that you were very...

persuasive.

I need hardly remind you, sir,

that refusing would make you
an object of ridicule.

So you accept then?

Not true.

What did you say?

The rotation of the wheel. Not true.

Camshaft's probably rotting.

He's late.

He often is.

You're late.

You're late, sir.

Are we?

How late?

You're outside
the 15 minutes grace permitted.

Where's your second, for God's sake?

Monsieur Guillot will act as my second.

He's a servant.

He's not acceptable.

Then we must abandon this charade.

Vladimir.

If you wish to communicate with
your opponent, do so through me.

Vladimir.

You arrive late.

You offer a manservant as a second.

Your behaviour is offensive.

Is this necessary?

You have insulted the honour
of the woman I love.

There can be no reconciliation.

This is a misunderstanding.

No reconciliation!

Please, Vladimir.

No...

reconciliation!

So be it.

Five paces.

One:

The opponents shall stand
thirty paces from one another.

Two:

On my signal, you will start
moving towards one another.

You may fire at any time,

but you must not cross
the barrier marks.

Three:

Following a miss, the opponents
are not permitted to move.

Thus he who shoots first

allows his opponent the same
distance for returning fire.

Four:

The pistol shall be discharged
in the direction of the opponent.

In the event that
neither opponent has been hit,

both having fired,

the duel shall start again.

Ten paces!

Please take your first positions.

Ready.

Oh, no!

Vladimir.

Vladimir.

He's gone.

Left quite suddenly.

He said not to
expect him back for some time.

Where did he go?

He didn't say.

I'll leave you now.

Thank you.

Check.

You're in check.

Olga overcame her grief.
I knew she would.

She's like me.

Practical.

She's made a very good match.

A hussar.

They very happy, both of them.

But...

Tatyana, she's quite a different creature.

Cousin, this isn't easy for me.

She's never expressed
any interest in marriage.

Whenever I mention it,
she just says "Oh, I can't".

That's why we've come to you.

Extraordinary. Why ever not?

Tatyana.

If I met someone I could love...

- I would marry him.
- Love!

Love is a luxury a girl in
your position cannot afford.

Then why else marry?

Because it is time you were settled.

Because you've become
a burden to your poor mother.

Because you must.

Let me give you some advice.

You settle for the comfort
of habit with a husband,

perhaps even friendship, if you're lucky.

Then, if you insist on
this penchant for love,

you find it outside the marriage bed.

If I married, I'd be faithful.

That's very touching.

Come here, Tatyana.

Her skin is excellent.

It's her demeanour needs attention.

Have you put on weight?

Marsha?

Of course I can hardly see,
with my eyes.

We can only afford to stay
in St. Petersburg for one season.

Cousin,

- you understand.
- It is enough.

I'll give her three presentations,

in select circles, very grand.

If she fails to impress,

she will fetch up a spinster.

Or a courtesan.

Life can be cruel.

Witness that Volkonsky girl.

30 years old and still not married.

She will remain so.

Dreadful girl.

Evening.

Good evening.

Evgeny?

Evgeny Onegin.

Cousin.

How long have you been back?

- A week, maybe two.
- Where have you been?

Travelling.

For six years?
Is the world that interesting?

Sometimes, yes.

Congratulations on your marriage.

It was 3 years ago, but thank you.

I apologize. I should've written.

You should. Apology accepted.

There's a woman...

- Which one?
- She just...

there, in the red.

I'll introduce you.

- Who is she?
- Come.

Good evening.

Delighted, of course.

Will you excuse me?
I'd like to make an introduction.

- But of course.
- Good evening.

Allow me to introduce
my cousin, Evgeny Onegin.

Monsieur Onegin.

Mademoiselle Larin.

- We've met before.
- Really?

Yes, cousin.

I saw you, Mademoiselle,

but I wasn't sure that it was you.

And?

Is it?

Yes.

You seem surprised.

No.

Forgive me, merely...

Will you forgive me, Evgeny?

Tatyana's my wife.

Congratulations.

- To you both.
- Thank you.

Perhaps you might honour

an old acquaintance with the next dance,

Princess.

In truth, I do not care
for dancing. But thank you.

Dearest, would you excuse me?

I'm glad you could come.

It's true. She never dances.

I apologize. I wasn't aware she...

No, Evgeny. My apologies.

Will you excuse me?

A dull but necessary conversation awaits.

Onegin...

has returned.

But in what guise?

Cosmopolitan or philosophe?

Bon viveur, please.

Gentlemen.

Perhaps we'll call on you tomorrow.

Cards?

Perhaps.

The premature exit.

More changes.

More of the same.

Never really liked him.

What did the Austrian envoy
have to say?

Ah, the Austrian envoy.

He spent the night trying to
make me reveal state secrets.

And Onegin, did you
speak further with him?

No.

He left early, I think.

We should try to see more of him
now he's back in Petersburg.

Strange fellow.

He seemed different.

Everything all right, sir?

These cases, Guillot.

Sir?

Unpack them.

We are staying in Petersburg, sir?

Yes.

Can I bring you anything, sir?

No, just go back to bed.

Dearest Evgeny,

I write to you. It's all I can do.

I know it is in your power
to punish my presuming heart.

Yet if you have one drop of pity,

you'll not abandon me to
my unhappy fate.

I am in love with you,

and I must tell you this or my heart...

my heart which belongs to you,

will surely break.

I'd never have revealed
my shame to you,

if just once a week I might see you,

exchange a word or two,
and then think day and night

of one thing alone till our next meeting.

But you're unsociable, they say.

The country bores you.

Is it true?

Does the country bore you?

Sometimes I wonder
that you ever visited us.

Why?

I'd never have known you
or known this agony and fever.

All my life's been leading me

to this union with you.

I recognized you at first sight

and knew with certainty.

And said to myself:

"It's him. He's come."

Help me. Resolve my doubts.

Perhaps this is all nonsense,
emptiness, a delusion,

and quite another fate awaits me.

Imagine it.

I'm here alone, half out of my mind.

I dread to read this over.

My secret longing.

I know I can trust your honour,

though I feel faint from shame and fear.

Tatyana.

Princess.

Your shawl.

No, thank you.

I can foresee the bitter scorn

blazing at me from your proud eyes

when you have read my secret sorrow.

When we first met,

through chance, I saw tenderness,
like a shooting star.

But I did not dare to put my faith in it.

Then Lensky fell,
which parted us still further.

Then I tore my heart away
from everything it loved.

Rootless...

estranged from all I thought that
liberty and peace would serve,

instead of happiness.

My God, how wrong I was!

How I've been punished.

No.

Day by day to be with you,
follow you everywhere,

alive to every smile,
each movement of your eyes,

dwell upon your soul's perfection,

listen to your voice,
grow faint with yearning...

That is bliss.

And I'm cut off from it.

My time is short.

Each day and hour is precious.

Yet I just drag myself around in boredom.

Every day a desert, unless,

when I wake up, I know the day

will bring a glimpse of you.

If you but knew the flames
that burn in me,

which I attempt to
beat down with my reason.

But let it be.

I cannot struggle against
my feelings anymore.

I am entirely in your will.

Who was that, my dear?

Your cousin.

What did he have to say?

Just thanking us for our hospitality-

Was it badly written?

No, but unnecessary to keep.

You're cold.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Monsieur Onegin!

Monsieur Onegin!

I thought it was you.

Princess.

I said to my companion:
"I'm sure that's Evgeny Onegin."

You see, I recognized you
at quite some distance away.

And it is you.

Voilà.

You're not skating!

I cannot recommend it enough.

Though I do have a
slight blister on my left heel

on account of these boots
which is making it unbearable.

I'm sorry.

Well, my companion...

she's waiting.

I recognized him immediately
by his morose posture.

All right?

Why have you come here?

I have to see you.

Forgive me.

I would like you to leave.

I cannot.

I cannot.

Why?

Why do you pursue me like this?

Because I love you.

I love you.

What do you think you see?

A moment of triumph?

- A brief scandal?
- No.

Why this change?

Why has this sudden sight of me
shocked you into this?

Well, I do... I don't know.

But seeing you again...

I...

I have seen myself.

No.

You...

you are mistaken in what you say
and in how you see me.

No.

I listened to you once,
all those years ago,

and...

I feel you acted honourably.

I do not accuse you.

Please...

Tatyana...

hear me.

- Please.
- Why?

Hear me.

Why?

Because I'm noble now?

Am I noble enough for you now?

Evgeny, you should know

that this, all of this life...

my life, my life is empty and hollow.

And I would happily exchange

all that you see around me
for the life that I had.

Yes.

Tell me that you feel nothing.

My husband is asleep upstairs.

Tell me that you love me.

I loved you once.

A long time ago.

There.

You haven't forgotten.

No.

Tatyana, I beg you...

be with me.

You told me once
that my heart would heal.

So will yours, Evgeny.

And has it healed?

Has your heart healed?

Oh, God!

It hurts!

Has it healed?

I don't think so.

It hurts.

Why? Why does it hurt?

Why?

Tell me.

Tell me.

- Why does it hurt?
- Because you are too late.

Yes.

You are too late, Evgeny.

Save me.

Save me.

I cannot save you.

You have to save me.

I cannot.

Tell me that you love me.

Please tell me.

Lie to me.

Tell me that you love me.

I love you. I do.

I love you.

I am another man's wife,
do you understand?

And I have given him my word.

And I will be faithful to him.

I will.

You must go.

Yes, you must go.

You must leave me, please.

Please.

I cannot see you again.

You can never come back.

Never come back here.

Please.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Sir.

May I suggest you come inside?
It's very cold.

I like the cold.

You have a letter for me.

- No, sir.
- Yes.

Yes.