All language subtitles for The Great - 02x03 - Alone at Last.PECULATE.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

You need to see this.

You should come.

How long has he been here?

A day or two since the coronation.

And no one thought to move him?

Everyone’s still pretty hung over.

Though it’s Tarzinsky, so it’s
more likely they don’t care.

I don’t know who did it.

I do.

If your plan
is that she ultimately fail,

we should help her along,
destabilize her.

We could give her laxatives.

I once ate a lot
of those chocolate laxatives

and was destabilized for a month.

I mean actual destabilization.

Politically.

Look at that fat fuck.

A traitor to me and my father
who made him a general,

and now he’s actually getting pussy.

Is anyone listening to me?

Have I stopped making sound
when I speak?

Look at this guy!
It’s Coco Ottina!

Brilliant, Grigor.

Yes, let’s focus on the dog,
because that’s what’s important.

Indeed, George. Well said.

For it’s the finest
truffle dog from Italy!

Fresh in from Piedmont.
It can smell a truffle

that has been wrapped in mink,
doused in lavender oil,

and shoved in an old woman’s vajuju.

Do they actually test them that way?

I fucking give up.

I used to find the first of the season

with my father when I was a small boy.

My father and I would
run through the forests,

and when we saw the dog
snuffling in that dirt,

nudging a newly formed truffle
to the surface,

its very scent of musk and
autumn suddenly filling the air

with its fuck-off deliciousness,

we would shout together,
"Truffle fucker!"

And run laughing together.

Then later shave it
over some bread and butter

and walk home through the forest.

It was the happiest of days for us,

as he was very busy running an empire

and was desperate to see me,

but was oft called away
by business, war, or pussy...

as a man should be.

But truffle day was different.

I really think we--

Shh!

I’m reminiscing
in my head with pictures.

Hmm.

Father.

- She will let you out for it?
- Of course.

I have not missed a first day
of truffle season ever

and will not start now.

She is not a cruel maniac.

Ah! I wanted to talk to you.

Firstly, meet Coco Ottina.

This is my court and my rules!

You fucking killed Tarzinsky,
didn’t you?

I did. And felt bad about it!

This random violence
is not the way of my court.

He called me dickhead.

That is your answer?

"I killed a man because
he called me dickhead"?

Do you hear how that sounds?

Sounds perfectly logical.

Violence is not the answer
to everything.

In this court, it is a language
that everyone understands.

You will not get far if you
do not come to terms with that.

Fine.

Guards!

Beat the fuck out of him.

Funny. You are a witty creature.

At times, the point is
so slight, one almost does not--

What the fuck are you two doing?

- Hey!
- Help and you will be shot.

My husband and I are busy
discussing an issue.

Can you hear me now?

Fucking hell.

Enough!

All of you, out!

What the fuck?

Should you see Vinodel?

Yeah, if that had actually hurt,
I’d be quite angry right now.

Is that how you wish me
to make my point?

I said I wasn’t proud of it.

Clearly,
it would be better if I had not.

For you, I will try
to be better next time.

Now, I would like to go truffle
hunting with my new dog.

- No.
- Do not be a bitch.

You have kicked me and made your point

and I have taken it graciously.

A tiff between lovers.

We are not lovers,
we will never be lovers.

You are a bloodthirsty thug,

and I wish I had killed you
when I had the chance.

Guards! Grab his dog.

No!

Lock him in!

Coco--

- What the fuck was that all about?
- This is outrageous.

She cannot treat him like that.

Agreed, we need to fuck her up.

Something bigger
than the laxative plan.

Or in addition to.
I still think that’s strong.

George, you okay?

She is fierce and formidable.

- As are we.
- Huzzah!

- Catherine, are you okay?
- Not really.

That was so great!

To see a man kicked repeatedly
and writhe in pain?

- What is wrong with you?
- Uh, okay.

- Where have you been?
- What did I miss?

Much.

The Ottomans are massing at our border,
blockading some trade.

Fuckers may be readying to invade.

You should talk to them.

We probably should fire some shots,
get a bit of a border skirmish going.

Let them know we bristle for a fight.

You wish to start a fucking war?

Well, hopefully the skirmish
scares them off,

but though a formidable foe,
I know we could take ’em.

I shall ready battle plans.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

A general readies war plans,
it’s, it’s sort of the job.

You are uncharacteristically yell-y.

Let us look to reason.

Instead of, "Oh, they looked at me funny,
let’s stab them in the face,"

we should try and raise the bar
on our triggers for war.

Or do you wish to see more dead
in your sleep, Velementov?

But this is different.
This is, uh, preemptive.

Dead men.
At bottom, that is what it is.

I hadn’t quite finished my point.

We fight, borders shift
on the map, and we fight again,

recover it in dead men,
and shift it again.

And how do you know
they do want this war?

They don’t like you.

They do not even know me.

I am fucking charm itself!

Oh, indeed. You are the
veritable sunflower on a breeze.

Conceptually, he means a woman.

They were a strong ally of Peter’s,

and the woman aspect is...

Invite them to dinner.

I will wave my sunny
disposition in their faces,

and they will smile back,

and we will find a common ground

that allows us to be as one in harmony.

- Right.
- I need a moment.

What?

What’s going on?

I don’t know. She is odd.

She just kicked the ribs out
of Peter over killing Tarzinsky,

but... there’s something else going on.

She looked deeply odd when I woke her.

Baby.
Might be releasing poison.

I... I don’t, I don’t think
they do that.

Doctor, are you?

- No.
- Ah.

Empress.

What?

I have always felt a strong
connection with you.

We have had sex,
which I did not enjoy much,

and you have fucked my husband,

which probably kept him
from fucking me at times,

so thank you for that.

You have been loyal to him
through a coup, and still are,

so this connection exists
but is tenuous and conflicted.

Right. Uh, let us forget about the past

and focus on my future then.

I have no real interest
in your future, Georgina.

All Russians, you often say,
are your concern.

I am Russian.

Well played.

What do you want?

I seek a favor.

I already did you a favor.

I didn’t kill you after the coup.

And lifelong gratitude for that,

but still I feel I need to be punished

in some way for my disloyalty then.

I have no interest in reprisals.

I did punch you once, as well,

and have spoken ill of you many times.

Called you a bitch, a cunt, a German.

I see, and how would I punish you?

I suspect you have an idea.

Perhaps, if I was exiled
to France against my will.

Take you and Grigor from him?

If you see it that way, yes.
I would deserve it.

As would he.

Granted.

You are exiled...

on one condition:

when you get to France,
close your legs and open a book.

German bitch.

Ah, an apology is a--

No butter?

She’ll calm down,

and then I will accept
her apology graciously.

If I could just...

be alone and...

How are you today, my dear?

Angry.

So I hear. Why?

I want this place to be better,

yet this morning
I was greeted first thing

with a dead body
Peter had stabbed nine holes in.

He is impulsive.

He’s a fucking animal.

I have locked him alone in quarters.

No one will speak to him
until the only thing he can hear

is his own heart beating.

Oh, dear. Locked in by himself?

Yes. He will have no one for weeks.

He will suffer for his crime.

That is a bad idea.
He does not do well alone.

Great. That makes it a good idea.

His mother would
lock him in for days.

He would go quite mad.

We would find him naked in
a blanket, covered in scratches,

and blinking uncontrollably.

Really?

His mother, you say?

Elephant!

Elephant sucking his own cock!

Crab with crabs!

What? Uh...

What the fuck are you doing?

Entertaining him.

When his mother would lock him in,

- I would be down here and dance for him.
- Right.

Sleep on the lawn so he could
see me if he got scared.

Went on for fucking weeks sometimes.

I have to tell you something.

Grigor?

Grigor! Grigor!

Where are you going?

Grigor! Where the fuck are you going!

Grigor!

Mommy?

Ew.

Huzzah!

Clearly, I am in a mood.

You were right
to exact revenge on him.

He killed Tarzinsky for what?

- Calling him dickhead?
- Hmm.

You say "hmm" like it’s reason enough.

Well, legally it is reason enough.

And the guy was a prick,
so let’s not grieve for him too much.

What?

He pissed in the corner
and threatened to--

It is legal?

One is allowed
to kill for many reasons.

Property dispute.

Marital dispute.

Bumping into you in the hall.

- Fucking your wife.
- Or pet.

In fact, it was all legal.

There are 400 laws relating to it.

That is absurd.
We must rescind all, today.

It, it would require
a regional summit of senators.

No, I, I don’t understand.

You want to tell a man he can’t
kill another man if offended?

Yes.

People might take a dim view of that.

- Shut up.
- What?

Now, I’m tired,
and I do not wish to be--

Challenged?

Explaining my brilliance to people

who think the Earth is flat.

I need to lie down.

I had sex last night with a woman.

- What?
- I thought a change of subject

might be helpful and that was
the subject on my mind.

Oh, you wish to boast?

No. It is the third time in my life

I have laid with a woman.

While not unpleasant, it seems
not really worth the trouble.

You’re being preposterous.

It is marvelous,
even when not marvelous.

Sometimes people say words

and I just hear a buzzing in my ears.

This is one of those occasions.

I may get Vinodel. You seem unwell.

Perhaps.

Should we...

Um, is, is the meeting over,
or are we just having a break?

Sounds fucking awful.

I need my violin tuned!

Do not ignore me!

Fuckers!

Let... me... out!

Fuck!

I don’t want to leave Russia.

And him?

W-We should talk to her. Beg.

Clearly after this morning,
she’s not in the mood to be forgiving.

Paris, Grigor.

- Fuck!
- I know.

I’m devastated.

But think of it,

you and me alone in Paris.

Paris!

It is a new life.

French butter.

Fuck.

There’s no future for us here, anyway.

Did you not see
what she did this morning?

- He has a plan.
- What, that she’ll fail?

I watched you two
prattle on about truffle dogs

and her come in
like a blaze of light and power,

and I knew we are done here.

You must trust my instincts.

This is Russia.

Her light will slowly be enfolded
by our natural darkness

and will be snuffed out.

She will break, and he will scoop her

and the country up and voilà.

So if he does, we come back.

And if he doesn’t, we have a new life.

We will be alone at last.

Isn’t that what you want?

S’il vous plaît, mon amour.

You know I love it
when you speak French.

Just say merci and do
this with me, I beg of you.

How do we tell him?

She said no one in.

Well, I just want to talk to him.

Sorry.

I suppose if I broke the rules

and did talk to him for a minute,

you would be within your rights

to drag me from here into my apartments

and treat me savagely.

Get me the fuck out of here.

Oh, I fear you have made her cross

in a way I have not encountered before.

I don’t understand.
Tarzinsky is a prick.

- And he did call you dickhead.
- Exactly.

It’s baffling that she thinks
this is wrong.

Although, I...

Hmm, okay.

Oh, dear. Although what?
And "hmm, okay" what?

I did ask her, as I was clearly
ill-advised by you to,

if there was one thing
I could do to improve myself.

And she said?

She saw my talent for violence
as less than ideal.

So, to reassure her of your love

and your commitment to change for her,

you stabbed a man nine times
a few hours later?

- I tried not to, but--
- He called you dickhead.

Exactly!

Maybe she will cool,
and then you need to apologize.

I can’t stay in here alone,
you know that.

Oh, I know, my darling.

That’s why I brought you something.

Ah! Hello, friend!

Huh.

Bye, my darling!

You’ll be needing a tighter grip.

No, tighter.

Oh, for God’s sake, just stop it.

I’ll just walk there myself

and we’ll figure it out
when we get there.

Is that a bowl of wine?

It is.

I assume you came with a question,

as I know you would have the good grace

not to interrupt a man
who has a bowl of wine.

The empress is in a strange state.

She has a baby in her.

A human creature of fuck knows
what evil disposition.

It poisons their blood
and gives them a many-hued bile.

Oh, I remember my wife, God rest her,

had a similar disagreeable momentum.

My concern is decisions will get made

that she would otherwise not make.

And so your question is,
is there anything we can do?

Exactly.

We could give her a sleeping draught,

which would have her sleep
for days at a time.

Maybe rest would be good.

It has some side effects.

Death occasionally, scabies
often, a stutter guaranteed.

Right.

It’s probably too extreme.

Mm. Um, I would prescribe...

Yes?

...staying out of her way
for the duration.

Comes in waves.

She, I suspect,
has purple bile at present,

and we must wait for that wave to pass.

And when she has yellow,
she will be a docile lamb.

She will never be that, so...

Once threw a dog at me, my wife.

Hmm.

Patriarch.

A pamphlet on the interpretation
of omens sent by God.

I found it in the library.

Ah, omens.

God speaks through nature,
its creatures.

One of our jobs is to interpret,

to help the people
understand his meanings.

Indeed. A good read for the
long carriage ride back home.

Which I suspect should happen
tomorrow, don’t you?

I am at yours and God’s whim.

That occurred to me, too.

And that is what God and I wish.

You are unhappy with me in some way?

Not at all.

You are a simple priest,
who I can tell is best at home

with the simple people of his region,

interpreting antelopes
appearing out of season

and owls falling from the sky,

not in the vicious,
swirling winds of court.

Do you not find God
keeps one rooted and stable

no matter what the winds?

I do find that, actually.

Well said.

Happy travels.

My question for you is,
should I apologize to her? Hmm?

It is a sign of weakness that should

fill her cup with disgust
and loathing for me,

but her mind
is one of unique machinations

and odd perceptions of the world.

Such as her strange aversion
to random violence.

So therefore, it follows...

she may not even see apologies
as weakness,

but instead see them as strength.

Yet, we will risk it,
as I need her love

and I need to be in that forest
with Coco Ottina truffling.

We are agreed.

Let us write.

Huh.

You’re a good companion,
my winged friend.

Huzzah.

I toast you!

Stay close to me while we do this.

"Dearest Catherine..."

Peter!

Peter!

Grigor!

The letters!

What letters?

At the door.

"Darling, we’re waving to you

because we’re being exiled to France."

What the fuck?

Oh, yeah, I think he’s at the bit.

This is heartbreaking.

Look at his face.

"I know you love her, but what a bitch.

"Unless she wants rid of me,
as she does secretly love you,

"in which case, a sweet gesture,
I leave that with you.

"Know that I love you,
will miss your cock,

your fun,
your mercurial thrilling nature."

Oh, fuck.

He’s got mine.

What did you write in the end?

I couldn’t write anything.

I just...

It’s us.

It’s got a truffle in its mouth.

Oh, Grigor, you know me so well.

Fuck.

They’re my best friends, butterfly.

Why would she do this to me?

Butterfly?

Fuck!

Oh!

- This is great!
- I know!

We’re his new best friends!

Exactly.

When he gets back in,
we will be first run in the court.

I-I could be everything
Grigor was to him.

And I... everything George was.

What?

I hear the kids yelling.

I was looking for you.

I’m here.

Are you hiding from someone?

No. Of course not.
I’m the fucking empress, I don’t hide.

Oh.

You should banish him,
possibly kill him.

I’ve got a bad feeling about him.

You mean Archie has.

Why are you hiding from him?

- I had a dream.
- Sex dream?

Where you fucked him?

I have one where a series of cocks

are brought to me on trays by servants,

and I inspect them all
and can never choose one I like.

All right, your dream?

I saved Leo.

Oh! What are you doing?

Reminding myself not to cry.

Pin a note to your dress. Fuck.

The dream was right, a perfect plan.

Would’ve worked.

Wait a week, let Peter relax,

get Velementov to plan
an assault on the guard unit.

Leo creates a routine,
a walk to that clearing.

His guards relax,

he gives them plum vodka,
but we’ve spiked it.

They’re now dizzy and confused.

Velementov and his men attack.

Leo runs.

I put him in a box and send him
to Venice until it’s over.

My cocks dream is more realistic.

And it doesn’t matter now.

He’s gone.

There’s no use punching
yourself inside and out. Cry.

Be sad is all.

No. I have work to do.

And being sad is a pathetic,
self-soothing indulgence now,

and I will not fucking have it.

Shit! Uncle Varnya?

Dearest Vassily Abramovich Orlo.

I did not realize you--

I, I never have, it is an experiment.

Ah! Wait outside, young fellow.

At home, they sing
your name across the region.

The impoverished but brilliant boy

we sent to court years ago now owns it.

Well, I don’t own it.

Obviously, I’m a big part of--
integral part of it.

None of this would’ve
happened without you.

I know that.

That’s actually true.

And you wouldn’t
have happened without us.

I know.

My gratitude is eternal.

And now, here we are,

a chance to rain that
eternal gratitude upon us.

We have some needs.

I am very much at the service
of the empress.

I’m sure it will not be a conflict,

for your heart will serve both loves.

That is your family’s fervent wish.

Right.

A new road.

Imagine the joy it will bring.

Four hundred miles straight from
sea, through our great land.

Build it, and we will have
access to the next regions.

A dream for us.

I will try my best.

You will succeed.

Right.

I know what you’re thinking.

Hmm.

And you’re wrong.

Will you retire to bed now, Empress?

No.

I have work to do.

That is why I am here.

Ye-- Get Vinodel.

A baby’s mother needs sleep.

Perhaps normal mothers do,
I do not,

as I am an empress and have much to do,

as that is why I came to Russia.

Do you have something
to help me not sleep?

I have something for everything:

not sleep, not speak,
not fart, not shit,

not cum, not blink, not wink--

Just get it then. Without talking.

Indeed.

Nose or arse?

What is it?

Lavender, gunpowder,
and some plant oils and stuff.

I can’t remember exactly,
but, um, it’s good.

Thanks.

So, Belanova, should we perhaps

go share a port in my apartments?

Hmm, I think fuck first, then port.

I had it in a different order,
but we can do it your way.

- Shall we?
- Velementov, we have work to do.

My apartments now.

- That was good.
- Mm.

You okay?

Mm-hmm.

To be honest, similarly disappointing

to doing it with a woman.

I thought perhaps because it was

verging on unpleasant
with a woman, perhaps

a, a man was more the carriage
I should be riding in,

but the road is different,
but the feeling much the same.

Right.

And the feeling is?

I’d really rather be reading a book.

Orlo.

Oh! Hello.

- We have work to do.
- Yes, we do.

Great. Brilliant. Good day, sir.

Oh, right.

I-I can see you are upset

and think perhaps
that I lost the empire,

and what would my father think,
and what a fuckhead,

but I have a genius plan.

And I know you will roll your eyes

and have commented before

that perhaps my brain and way
of thinking is that of a peasant

kicked in the head by a horse.

An affectionate jest, I know.

You see...

I love her, and she loves me.

My throat is quite dry,
as happens with you at times.

I feel a bit shaky.

The room...

vi-vibrates a little.

How do you make...

I just need to sit.

Merci, Madame.

Au contraire. Merci, monsieur.

I guess it will be fun.

I went there as a girl and loved it.

I’ll miss the trees.

They have trees.

I can’t stop thinking...

who’s gonna dance for him,

when he looks out that window
now and no one’s there?

He’ll be fine.

Stop the carriage!

- What? What are you doing?
- We should stay.

We could find our way out of this.

- We’re banished.
- He needs us.

I need you to go to France with me.

I can’t.

Are you kidding? You’ve spent years
trying to get me alone.

I love you, and I, I want you.
I just...

He needs me right now.

So do I.

- Come with me.
- You come with me.

That is all the legal codes,
some 16,000.

So, we will read them all

and find all the laws
we wish to repeal.

- Christ, I hope you don’t mean tonight.
- Of course, I do.

- It is very late.
- Ah!

Katya,
the children must read Sophocles.

Of course, Empress.

Sophocles. He’s great.

Now.

- Now, now?
- Wake them!

There is no time to waste
filling their young brains.

- Oh.
- Go!

Moving on.

I would like to invite scientists

from all over Europe for a competition,

and we will beat them all.

Most of our good scientists left.

So, offer them as much money
as it takes to come back,

and keep offering until they say yes.

Now to transport in the regions.

Examination of routes.

I had an idea.

A road 400 miles long
through a single region,

maybe from the sea, would
send a message of modernization.

Brilliant, Orlo.

What would be a good region for this?

Maybe Reograditch.

From sea to the farms,
to the cities, one road.

I love it. Done!

Well, that, that seems
a good amount of work--

I am not tired. We have
a country to run, to transform.

People spilt blood for us,

and we will repay it
with sweat and toil.

And when I had that shaking disease

the fucking doctors could not resolve,

when it was clearly
from a swallowed bee,

you would just come in and say,
"Still doing that, is he?

Whereas Elizabeth would lie with me

and hold me until I calmed.

Yeah, I remember Igor saying about you

being mean and his mother being better,

and her kindness, and you saying
Igor is a cunt, and--

That was Igor.

Father Basil.

We need to speak of the church.

I feel it can be different, better.

- I agree.
- What should it be?

Uh... a church more for the people

and less about wealth and power.

Exactly!
All this politics,

and money, and old men
who won’t look at a woman.

I mean, you look at women.

All the time. A God-given pleasure.

Amen.

I feel a younger generation
of leaders could help that.

I’m sure there are good men, who--

Look at this handsome, handsome,

egoless holy man we have before us.

Gentlemen, applause
for this actual man of goodness.

The patriarch
and the archbishop of court

are usually two different people.

The emperor traditionally
names his own archbishop.

That is one tradition
I would like to keep.

Father Basil, you are now
my archbishop at court.

I am, uh, overwhelmed and honored.

You are, as Leo said,
a very soft heart.

And now our chat is done.

We will work for
the good of the people,

and perhaps we will have enemies
in the church,

and if we do, we will smite them down

in a very Old Testament way.

Hmm.

Huh. Now, I have bought a lot of art.

I would like to build a gallery
next to the palace.

Something small, so we can go visit it

and drink it in
and let it change us all.

So much to do! It’s just...
It’s dizzying and fun, is it not?

Mm! Huzzah!

I remember once, you came in
and stuck a pin in me,

and then left and I sat there wondering

what I’d done to get you
to stick a pin in me.

And I still wake up
some mornings wondering.

And the answer
that floats by occasionally

that I refuse to grab

is nothing actually.

Nothing!

Mother?

Yula, someone
better be fucking dead.

No one’s dead,
but it does seem urgent.

So, if you look at page 49,
the word, "thusly."

Eh, I, I don’t like the word.

It sounds like the name
of a Norwegian stable boy.

I’ll just take it out.

And thusly, he took it out.

Come on, spark up, you two.

Thusly.

Page 50.

Gentlemen, ladies need a moment.

Marial, we’re working.

I am your best friend and need to talk.

That is the prerogative
of a best friend.

In the madness of the night,
when one has a problem,

we are there for each other.

So you two can fuck off
and run Russia later.

So we should give you a minute,
actually.

Oh. It’s only polite. We...

Okay. What is your problem?

I am kept up late
worrying for my friend.

Do not. Solved. Go.

I just need to work now.

I fear you will make yourself,
and those around you, suffer,

and perhaps the country as well.

An angry,
seemingly out-of-control woman

is not looked on kindly.

Trust me on that.

This country needs changing,

and if people must suffer,
then they must.

Isn’t that Russian, after all?

Is that why you’re making Peter suffer?

I am teaching him a lesson.

Cutting a throat
or a nice piece of cheese

are all the same to him.

Leo is dead because of him.

He was fighting for his empire,
like you were.

Are you fucking defending him?

I am not defending. Just...

This is Russia.

Okay, what is it you wish
to say to help me?

Say it and it will magically heal me.

What would Leo say?

"I can’t believe you let them
kill me, you fucking cunt."

What would Leo say?

"Forgive.

Live."

So, listen to him.

Oh! F-For fuck’s sake, cry!

Fuck.

Okay, okay.

Um, where was I?

This one.

Arm, small bone in arm.

Fuck.

Um, hand.

The fucking human body.

Bullshit. A bear is simple.

Ah, yes!

Yes.

Yes. Brilliant.

Oh, shit.

I broke her.
Her head, everything.

I’m sorry.

I don’t think I can
put her back together.

Sorry I was being cruel to you,
putting her in here.

Oh, I thought you thought
it was a nice thing to do,

having mother to keep me company.

You have an overly
benevolent view of me.

I love you.

Though your ruthlessness,
which I know of already,

has taken me aback this last day.

I am not ruthless.

Not like you.

You actually believe that, don’t you?

I am sorry for my anger.

I had a bad dream.

Was it about an otter
who feasts on human hair?

No. Why would it be--

Many people have that dream.

It’s fascinating
how many people respond,

"Yes, an otter," when asked.

It was not about an otter.

Guard! Let her in.

Oh!

Coco Ottina.

You’re allowing me to go?

I am, under guard, of course.

Forgiveness will perhaps
soften both our hearts.

Thank you.

Hey, what was your dream about,
if not an otter?

Leo.

You did as you had to.

Let it go, like a bluebird
off a tree in the spring.

How could you be
so fucking blithe about it?

I’m not!

I even mentioned Leo
in my apology to you.

Uh... "I am sorry you hate my violence,
but it has served me well,

"and when one does not
have a capacity for it,

one easily gets knifed
and flayed by those who do."

Look at Leo, for instance.

"He had a proclivity
for peaches and sonnets,

but not knives and bloodshed,
and now he is dead."

And not saying it’s his fault,

but being a marrowless lobcock
didn’t help him, did it?

"My sincerest apologies
I upset you, however.

I will try to kill less."

Now that’s dealt with,
I would like to go truffling--

You do not care, at all.

I just apologized, did you not hear it?
I shall read it again.

Oh, don’t bother!

Dog!

We are going.

Oh, for fuck’s sakes!

If you’d wanted to save him,
you would have.

I didn’t know how!

I am going to walk
over there and kiss you,

and we will see
why you didn’t want to know.

Hey!

You said I could go truffling!

Fuck!

What happened?

What are you doing?

I’m going
to find the first truffle

and then burn it in front of him.

So, you let go of the anger then?

- Do you want help?
- No!

How is she?

She had a dream.

Ha!

Come back!

Fuck.

Dog!

Dog!

Dog!

I’ll find it myself.

Is it not marvelous!

It is! It is!

Jesus, Velementov,
is that really how you fuck?

Like an angry warthog with
no control over your lower body.

Fuck!

Countess Belanova, are you drunk?

Look who you’re fucking.

Yeah, pull your pants up, fatso!

He’s a hero.

He is a thimble-cocked warthog

who smells like an anchovy
wrapped in shit.

Oh, look now. He’s getting his gun.
You really going to shoot me?

- I am.
- Catherine will not allow it.

I did not know you were loose.

I was in the forest hunting.

I thought you were a syphilitic deer.

- I’ll back that story.
- Traitor!

Run, you fucker! Run!

- You fucker!
- Come here!

- Ha-ha! Fatso.
- Fuckin’ beanpole!

- Oh, shit!
- Hey!

- Ow! Ow!
- Stop! You coward!

What,
you would shoot a man in cold blood?

Not a man. You.

Ah! Coco Ottina! Ah!

Truffle fucker!

Dog!

Oh!

Ow.

What...

Why did you say that?

- It’s what we used to say.
- We?

You and I, when we found it,
as we did, we’d always yell it.

I was with Father.

Ah, Peter the Great would
launch the hunt, get bored,

head off to drink and fuck.

It would end up just us.

I remembered it as him.

We never failed, though,

for five years when you were a kid.

Remember when we found
those six under a chestnut tree?

"And another," you kept yelling!
"And another!"

- Yeah, I do.
- Such joy on your face.

Ah.

Ah!

That’s a good size.

Oh, that smell!

I’d rather eat that than pussy.

Unless it is pineapple-tasting pussy.

Though that is remindful
of summer, whereas this...

is... deepest autumn.

So it is a matter of, as I always say,

respect the seasonality of things.

I have forgotten
your curious inimitableness.

Hmm.

Ah, bread?

Do you have butter?

Of course I don’t have fucking butter.

Hmm.

There you are.

We’ve been looking for you.

We can walk on if you need more time.

Or... sit with you?

I lost the dog...

and I lost Leo.

I think, to be completely honest,

I’m very, very sad.

Do you think I could’ve saved him?

No.

I think the dream is just a wish.

You knew in the moment the truth

of what you had to do, and you did it.

You love Russia.

You broke your own heart for it.

Peter told me I’m ruthless.

He knows me well sometimes.

I don’t know what to do with it,

this feeling.

Suffer it, shed bitter tears for it,

and yet live anyway.

It is the Russian way.

Today I am very Russian then.

Question: Why did you betray me?

You had been in my family for years,

and we treasured you as we might
our finest horses or furniture.

Huh? Well...

I suppose if I excavate
to the root of it,

you were a fucking terrible leader.

What? That’s an absurd idea.

You also kicked me, called me fatso,

made me do funny dances

when I had been nothing
but kindness to you as a boy.

Because you were losing the war
and making me look bad.

You was always in my fucking way.

We could’ve won.

I am a talented general.

Between the coup
and the war on Sweden,

your talent seems to be
for killing Russians.

Just an observation.

Fucker!

No, I’ll fucking choke you to death

with a whole truffle
rammed down your throat.

Hmm. A lovely way to die.

I have dreamed of it strangely.

You know why we won the coup?

I got hungry.

No, she inspires.

- What? And I do not?
- You’re a fucking idiot.

You don’t care for the people,
for anyone.

You are careless with people,
their pain.

You shoot straight when you shoot.

Well,
no one cared for you much as a boy.

My parents did not
like me much, did they?

Fuck ’em.

Fuck ’em?

They’re dead.

Fuck ’em.

F-fuck them...

Hm. Funny.

That was a good truffle.

Indeed.

Do you think I can change,
be a better man?

Probably not.

Fucker.

Grigor?

Huzzah!

Ha!

I’ll miss Leo forever.

There will be others.

There’ll never be another Leo.

There might be an Anton.

- A Gregory.
- A Pierre.

The French are very good.

First love is good,
but I also recommend 21st.

Antigone wants to bury him,

but that is going to be a big problem.

And Sophocles’ play deals
with issues of war and death

and is just amazing.

Let us go.

There’s much to do.

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