Yuri Herman dear is my man. My dear man. Small troubles, meetings and memories

Yuri Herman

My dear man

I will not give praise afraidly melting virtue, I do not show myself and not feeding the signs of life, the virtues that never makes a bitterness to meet a face to face with the enemy, and which is shamefully running from the competition when the laurel wreath is conquered among heat and dust .

John Milton

Who is sick for the work, he should be able to fight for him, otherwise he does not even need to take for any business.

Johann Wolfgang Guete

Chapter first

The train goes to the West

International Express moved slowly, as he believed to trains of this highest category, and both foreign diplomats immediately, each in their direction, retarded silk brizbiz on the mirror window of the car restaurant. Ustimno squinted and stood up even more carefully in these sports little, housing, arrogant people - in black evening costumes, in glasses, with cigars, with rings on the fingers. They did not notice it, with greed looked at silent, unbarrous spacious, and peace there, in the steppes over which the full moon sailed over in the black autumn sky. What did they hoped to see by moving the border? Fires? War? German tanks?

In the kitchen for Volodyina's back, the chefs chopped the meat, the meat smelledably smelled with a fried onion, the buffet of the tray suffered the stoves of the Russian "Zhigulevsky" beer. There was an hour of dinner, in the neighboring table, a buggy American journalist with thick fingers cleaned orange, his military "forecasts" respectfully listened to the glacial, with sloping hair, similar, as if twins, diplomats.

Bastard! - said Volodya.

What he says? - asked Tod-Gin.

Bastard! - repeated Ustimko. - Fascist!

Diplomats were taped by their heads, they smiled. The famous American journalist commentator joked. "This joke is already flying on the radiotelephone to my newspaper," he explained to his interlocutors and threw in his mouth with a liquecation of orange. His mouth was huge, like a frog, - from the ear to ear. And all the Troim all were very fun, but even more cheerful to them for cognac.

We must have calm! Said Tod-Gin, looking at the Ustimeta with compassion. - We must take yourself in hand, so yes.

Finally, the waiter approached, recommended by Volodya and Tod-Gina "Sturgeon in monastic" or "Barani chops". Ustimno shifted the menu, the waiter, shining a surgery, waited - a strict Tod-Gin with his fixed face was a waiter with an important and rich eastern foreigner.

Bottle of beer and bef-stroganov, "said Volodya.

Go to hell, Tod-Gin, - Ustimno got angry. - I have a lot of money.

Tod-basin repeated dry:

Porridge and tea.

The waiter pulled his eyebrows, made a sorrowful face and left. The American browser poured a brandy to Narzan, rinsed this mixture with his mouth and stuck with a black tobacco tube. And the gentleman approached them to Troim - as if it came out of the neighboring car, but from the collection of the works of Charles Dickens Lopuhius, dubish, with a duck nose and her mouth with a chicken. Here is something - this checkered striped - and said the journalist that phrase, from which Volodya even frown.

Do not! - asked Tod-Gin and squeezed his cold wrist with his cold hand. - It does not help, so yes ...

But Volodya did not hear Tod-Gina, or rather, I heard, but he was not prior to prudence. And, rising behind her table - high, flexible, in the old black sweater, - he gruelled to the whole car, drilling a journalist with mad eyes, glaked on his terrifying, soul, self-studied english language:

Hey you, browser! Yes, you, exactly you, I tell you ...

In the flat fatty face of the journalist flashed bewilderment, the diplomats instantly became correct-arrogant, Dickens Gentleman barely backed up.

You use the hospitality of my country! - shouted Volodya. Countries that I have a high honor to be a citizen. And I do not allow you so disgusting, and so cynically, and so it is too tallowing about that great Battlewhich our people leads! Otherwise, I will choose you from this car to the damn mother ...

Approximately so Volodya represented himself what he said. In fact, he told the phrase much more meaningless, but nevertheless, the observer understood Volodya perfectly, it was visible by how the jaw had twisted and small, fish teeth in a froggy mouth. But immediately he was found - he was not so small, so as not to find a way out of any position.

Bravo! - he exclaimed and even portrayed something like applause. Bravo, my friend enthusiast! I am glad that you awakened your feelings with my little provocation. We did not travel more than a hundred kilometers from the border, and I have already received a grateful material ... "Your old pit barely not thrown out of the expression only for a small joke about the combat capability of the Russian people" - so my telegram will begin; It suits you, my hot-tempered friend?

What is he, the poor, could answer?

Draw a dry mine and get for BEF-Stroganov?

So Volodya and did. But the observer did not lag behind him: Rerep by his table, he wished to know who Ustimno, what he was doing, where it goes, why returns to Russia. And, recording, said:

Oh great. Missionary doctor returns to fight under the banner ...

Listen! - exclaimed Ustimenko. - Missionaries are priests, and I ...

The old pit will not spend, "the phone puffed, the journalist said. Old Pete knows his reader. And show your muscles, you really could throw me out of the car?

I had to show. Then the old pit showed his own and wished to drink with Volodya and his "friend - Eastern Bayron" brandy. Tod-junged porridge, poured liquid tea and left, and Volodya, feeling mocked views of diplomats and dickens striped, was tormented for a long time with the old peet, in every way whitening himself for a stupid scene.

What was there? - Strictly asked Tod-Gain, when Volodya returned to their coupe. And heard, lit a cigarette and said sadly:

They are always cunning us, so, yes, doctor. I was still small - this is ...

He showed his palm, which was:

That's the same, and they, like this old Pete, such, yes, let me candy. No, they did not beat us, they gave us candy. And my mother, she beat me, so, yes, because she could not live from her fatigue and illness. And I thought I would leave for this old pit, and he will always give me candy. And Pit adults also gave candy - alcohol. And we carried him the skins of animals and gold, so, yes, and then the death occurred ... the old Pete is very, very cunning ...

Volodya sighed:

It's great that it turned out. And now he will also write that I am not the pop, not the monk ...

Obgging on the upper shelf, it is undressed to panties, lay in crispy, cool, starch sheets and turned on the radio. Soon they should have transferred a summary of Sovinformbüro. Having laid his hands for his head, Fastend lay motionless - waited. Tod-basin standing in the window - the steppe was endless under the radiance. Finally, Moscow spoke: on this day, according to the speaker, Kiev fell. Volodya turned to the wall, pulled over the blanket over her sheets. For some reason, he was presented to him who called himself old pit, and he even closed him from a disgust.

Nothing, "said Tod-Gin deaf," the USSR will win. It will still be very bad, but then it will come perfectly. After a night, the morning comes. I heard the radio - Adolf Hitler will surround Moscow so that no Russian is left of the city. And then he floods Moscow with water, he was all decided, so, yes, he wants, where Moscow earlier was, the sea will be done and the capital will not be the capital of communism. I heard, and I thought: I studied in Moscow, I must be where they want to see the sea. From the gun I get to the eye of Korshun, it is necessary in war. I get into the eye of a sable too. In the Central Committee I said like you, comrade doctor, now. I said they are a day if there is no, the eternal night will come. For our people, quite - so, yes. And I'm going to Moscow again, the second time I go. I'm not afraid of nothing terrible, no frost, and everything I can in war ...

Having spoiled, he asked:

I can not refuse, so yes?

You will not refuse, Tod-Gin, "Volodya answered quietly.

Then Ustimno closed his eyes.

And suddenly I saw that the caravan was touched. And grandfather Abatay ran near Volodya Kone. Eastern express thundered at the joints, sometimes long and powerfully tearned the locomotive, and around Volodya horses raised dust, and more and more crowds crowded around. On the side, on a small grivast of the skate, patting his withers with his wide palm, for some reason, cooking, dusty wind khara tremble her confused, soft hair, and cried, stretched with thin hands to Volodya girl carcass. And familiar and semi-rated people walked near the Ustimniki and stretched to him the sour cheese he loved.

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Yuri Pavlovich Herman
My dear man

I will not give praise afraidly melting virtue, I do not show myself and not feeding the signs of life, the virtues that never makes a bitterness to meet a face to face with the enemy, and which is shamefully running from the competition when the laurel wreath is conquered among heat and dust .

John Milton

Who is sick for the work, he should be able to fight for him, otherwise he does not even need to take for any business.

Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Chapter first

The train goes to the West

International Express moved slowly, as it is believed to trains of this highest category, and both foreign diplomats immediately, each in their direction, held out silk bribestes on the mirror window of the Vagon Restaurant. Ustimno squinted and stood up even more carefully in these sports little, housing, arrogant people - in black evening costumes, in glasses, with cigars, with rings on the fingers. They did not notice it, with greed looked at silent, unbarrous spacious, and peace there, in the steppes over which the full moon sailed over in the black autumn sky. What did they hoped to see by moving the border? Fires? War? German tanks?

In the kitchen for Volodyina's back, the chefs chopped the meat, the meat smelledably smelled with a fried onion, the buffet of the tray suffered the stoves of the Russian "Zhigulevsky" beer. There was an hour of dinner, in the neighboring table, a buggy American journalist with thick fingers cleaned orange, his military "forecasts" respectfully listened to the glacial, with sloping hair, similar, as if twins, diplomats.

- bastard! - said Volodya.

- What he says? - asked Tod-Gin.

- bastard! - repeated Ustimko. - Fascist!

Diplomats were taped by their heads, they smiled. The famous American journalist commentator joked. "This joke is already flying on the radiotelephone into my newspaper," he explained to his interlocutors and threw it in his mouth - a click - shelter orange. His mouth was huge, like a frog, - from the ear to ear. And all the Troim all were very fun, but even more cheerful to them for cognac.

- It is necessary to have calm! Said Tod-Gin, looking at the Ustimeta with compassion. - We must take yourself in hand, so yes.

Finally, the waiter approached, recommended by Volodya and Tod-Gina "Sturgeon in monastic" or "Barani chops". Ustimno shifted the menu, the waiter, shining a surgery, waited - a strict Tod-Gin with his fixed face was a waiter with an important and rich eastern foreigner.

"Bottle of beer and befstrogen," Volodya said.

"Go to hell, Tod-Gin," Ustimno got angry. - I have a lot of money.

Tod-basin repeated dry:

- Porridge and tea.

The waiter pulled his eyebrows, made a sorrowful face and left. The American browser poured a brandy to Narzan, rinsed this mixture with his mouth and stuck with a black tobacco tube. And a gentleman approached them to Troim - as if it came out of the neighboring car, but from the collection of the works of Charles Dickens - a lopokhiy, dubish, with a duck nose and her mouth with a chicken bundle. Here is something - this checkered striped - and said the journalist that phrase, from which Volodya even frown.

- Do not! - asked Tod-Gin and squeezed his cold wrist with his cold hand. - It does not help, so yes ...

But Volodya did not hear Tod-Gina, or rather, I heard, but he was not prior to prudence. And, having risen at his table - high, flexible, in the old black sweater, - he gruelled on the whole car, drilling a journalist with mad eyes, glaked on his terrifying, gorgeous soul, self-studied English:

- Hey you, browser! Yes, you, exactly you, I tell you ...

In the flat fatty face of the journalist flashed bewilderment, the diplomats instantly became correct-arrogant, Dickens Gentleman barely backed up.

- You use my country's hospitality! - shouted Volodya. - Countries that I have a high honor to be a citizen. And I do not allow you so disgusting, and so cynically, and so it is enough to close about the great battle, which our people leads! Otherwise, I will choose you from this car to the damn mother ...

Approximately so Volodya represented himself what he said. In fact, he told the phrase much more meaningless, but nevertheless, the observer understood Volodya perfectly, it was visible by how the jaw had twisted and small, fish teeth in a froggy mouth. But immediately he was found - he was not so small, so as not to find out of any position.

- Bravo! - he exclaimed and even portrayed something like applause. - Bravo, my friend enthusiast! I am glad that you awakened your feelings with my little provocation. We did not travel more than a hundred kilometers from the border, and I have already received a grateful material ... "Your old pit barely not thrown out of the expression only for a small joke about the combat capability of the Russian people" - so my telegram will begin; It suits you, my hot-tempered friend?

What is he, the poor, could answer?

Draw a dry mine and take care of Beefstogans?

So Volodya and did. But the observer did not lag behind him: Rerep by his table, he wished to know who Ustimno, what he was doing, where it goes, why returns to Russia. And, recording, said:

- Oh great. Missionary doctor returns to fight under the banner ...

- Listen! - exclaimed Ustimenko. - Missionaries are priests, and I ...

"We will not spend old pit," I puff the tube, the journalist said. - Old Pete knows his reader. And show your muscles, you really could throw me out of the car?

I had to show. Then the old pit showed his own and wished to drink with Volodya and his "friend - Eastern Bayron" brandy. Tod-junged porridge, poured liquid tea and left, and Volodya, feeling mocked views of diplomats and dickens striped, was tormented for a long time with the old peet, in every way whitening himself for a stupid scene.

- What was there? - Strictly asked Tod-Gain, when Volodya returned to their coupe. And heard, lit a cigarette and said sadly: - They always cunning us, so, yes, doctor. I was still small - this is ...

He showed his palm, which was.

"That's the same, and they, like this old Pete, such, yes, let me candy." No, they did not beat us, they gave us candy. And my mother, she beat me, so, yes, because she could not live from her fatigue and illness. And I thought: I will leave to this old pit, and he will always give me candy. And Pit adults also gave candy - alcohol. And we carried him the skins of animals and gold, so, yes, and then the death occurred ... the old Pete is very, very cunning ...

Volodya sighed:

- It turned out great. And now he will also write that I am not the pop, not the monk ...

Obgging on the upper shelf, it is undressed to panties, lay in crispy, cool, starch sheets and turned on the radio. Soon they should have transferred a summary of Sovinformbüro. Having laid his hands behind the head, Fastend lay motionless, waited. Tod-basin standing in the window - the steppe was endless under the radiance. Finally, Moscow spoke: on this day, according to the speaker, Kiev fell. Volodya turned to the wall, pulled over the blanket over her sheets. For some reason, he was presented to him who called himself old pit, and he even closed him from a disgust.

"Nothing," said Tod-Gin deafness, "the USSR will win. It will still be very bad, but then it will come perfectly. After a night, the morning comes. I heard the radio - Adolf Hitler will surround Moscow so that no Russian is left of the city. And then he floods Moscow with water, he was all decided, so, yes, he wants, where Moscow earlier was, the sea will be done and the capital will not be the capital of communism. I heard, and I thought: I studied in Moscow, I must be where they want to see the sea. From the gun I get to the eye of Korshun, it is necessary in war. I get into the eye of a sable too. In the Central Committee I said like you, comrade doctor, now. I said they are a day if there is no, the eternal night will come. For our people, quite - so, yes. And I'm going to Moscow again, the second time I go. I'm not afraid of nothing terrible, no frost, and everything I can in war ...

Having spoiled, he asked:

- I can not refuse, so yes?

"You will not refuse, Tod-Gin," Volodya answered quietly.

Then Ustimno closed his eyes.

And suddenly I saw that the caravan was touched. And grandfather Abatay ran near Volodya Kone. Eastern express thundered at the joints, sometimes long and powerfully tearned the locomotive, and around Volodya horses raised dust, and more and more crowds crowded around. On the side, on a small grivast of the skate, patting his withers with his wide palm, for some reason, cooking, dusty wind khara tremble her confused, soft hair, and cried, stretched with thin hands to Volodya girl carcass. And familiar and semi-rated people walked near the Ustimniki and stretched to him the sour cheese he loved.

"Take Kurut," shouted to him. " - Take you, you will eat Kurut in the war, and your spouse will divide our churut with you ...

- I will share! - Kivala Varya. - I will separate Kurut.

- Take Archie! - shouted to him, stretching dried cottage cheese. - Archi will not deteriorate. And your spouse will split Archie with you ...

"Take, don't cry," Vodya persuaded Volodya. - You know what good Archie is?

- Take fire, - shouted to him, stretching the balls of deer cheese. - Take, Dr. Volodya! Don't you know me, Doctor? You retained me even when we were afraid of your hospital ...

"Find out him, Volodya," Vary said. - awkward, truth! Vova! This your scatter will drive me crazy.

Their horses went nearby, Varbarina's eyes were open to him. Dust was done more tightly, all the thicker, and in this dust, Varya listened, as he saved Khara from black death, what he was brave, kind, although it was angry, how lonely he was terribly, how only her love was missing him, only Her presence, only her wide, warm, faithful palms, her eyes, herself, all of what he broke up, without understanding another terrible, irreparable meaning of this loss. But now she was here, with him there, and together on the road from Khara saw the Lazma's father, who stood over the road with his hunters. There were many of them, and fuss, and they all kept rifle trunks on the withers horses. Volodya and cook they met a volley up - once and the other, and then their gorgeous little, muscular, grivasty horses went ahead that the long-range nomads were preparing for the Wires of the Soviet Dr. Volodya.

- Wow, what you have, it turns out, "said Varvara broken out, - Wow, what Vovik!

And in the nomads that they drove with Barbara, Volodya peered to face, carefully and more part In vain remembering - who was on his outpatient reception, whom he looked in the yurt, who operated on, whom he treated in the hospital. But I could not tell anything to tell Vare - now they were all smiling, and then when he had a matter with them, they were suffering. Now they fired again and strange, and when they were brought to him, they were pale and thin. Now they constrained their horses, and then they lay, or were drove them under his arms, or made onto stretchers ...

- And you do not remember now, to whom did you save age? - Looking at his eyes, I asked Vary. - I would never forget anyone ...

Their horses were still awake.

And then Volodya lost her. Lost immediately, quite, forever. There were no hands, nor smashed eyes, no hair that dried the wind. There was nothing but impossible, unbearable grief.

"Calm down," Tod-Gain told him, putting his hand on his naked shoulder. - Do not shout, comrade, quieter! After a night happens morning, so yes!

Blue nightnight mercal over the wagon, and in his light, the face of Tod-Gina, rumped with early wrinkles, seemed face of the old man. Wise and strict.

- So yes! - Tod-bodies repeated very quietly.

- What am I? Shouting? - Carefully asked Volodya.

- Yes, - putting down at the bottom, Tod-Zhin answered.

- What did I scream?

- You shouted the Russian name. You called the Russian name.

- What? "Having fluttering from his shelf and string what he asks, Volodya said. - What is the name, Tod-Zhin?

It is not clear why he sought a response. Maybe just wanted to hear this name?

- Varyuha! - Tod-Gin said. - And you also shouted: "Varka", Comrade doctor. You called her, so, yes ...

"So yes! - Sripping the teeth, Volodya thought. - You mean what, and me? How will I live now? "

Small troubles, meetings and memories

One-week shook greatly on the Ugab, the driver squatted evil eyes to the Ustimeta and advised:

- Sydi tight, passenger. The road is now military, you can get trouble before time.

What trouble? He spoke all the time with riddles - this tightly shot down, a shoulder guy in a thumbnail.

Borisovo remains behind. Towards the slow and unemployed Merena stretched out the freight cars - there were machines, tired, harsh people in vicinity and rascoats, in the straps of the village coats, dormant kids, frightened old women and old people. And the clay has already been burning from the most bridge up to the famous state farm "Krasnogvardets" famous around the edge. And no one has extended the flame, even the people were not visible in this big, always a noisy village. Only for the relocation of women and girls, the trenches were digging, and the fighters in the gimbal gymnasters dumped with some gray pyramids from the trucks and, undergoing their scans, shifted to the roadside.

- What is what? - asked Ustimenko.

- And he does not know! - Without hiding the malice, the driver snapped. - He sees first. Do not stand up, the passenger will convincely ask. Forwards, he does not know, hedgehogs - does not know. Maybe you and you do not know the trenches? And that war - do you know? Or did not hear? The so-called brown plague fell on us. But only we transfer these all bandits, so there and pass!

- Where exactly? - Volodya asked inadmanly.

- And in your abroad, from where the arrived.

Ustimno confusedly grinned: the devil pulled him to tell this vigilant eccentric about how he was walked over the past two days with his foreign passport. And the sweater turned out to be suspicious, and the cutting of the raincoat is not the one, and he is not triggered, and his cigarettes are foreign.

"Of course, in view of the nonsense in the Covenant, we did not dismake yourself with the go," the driver said, "but be dead - here the Fascist-Fritsa will come all the end. Next Unchi do not understand!

- I'll give you a lady! - Suddenly, insulting terribly, shouted Ustimno. - You will find me ...

With his left hand, the chauffeur showed a heavy wrench - it turns out, it has long been armed with this guy.

"One's readiness," he said, without the need to spin the ram. - Siti, passenger, neatly, while the skull breaks down ...

- stupid! - shrugged Volodya.

Indeed, it turned out stupid. It seems to be a story with "old pit" - there in express.

"Where we need to figure it out - stupid or not stupid," thought, said the driver. - So sit, passenger, and not lety, do not play on the nerves ...

Above the city, low and tight, hung smoke. So tightly that there was not even visible factory pipes - neither "red proletarian" nor a brick, nor cement, nor "Marxista". And the dome of the cathedral also closed the smoke.

At the entrance, where there was a gearbox, the driver presented his skip, and about Volodya, it was already completely categorically categorically:

- Spy Diversian. Free me from him, my friend, he supposed any weapon, and I have a wrench. And reading with me quickly, I am in the military enlistment office in fourteen zero-zero.

The young, extremely concerned about the emergency that fell on him a military with two cubes has long read Volodin passport, looked through the stamps - the entrance and all sorts of other visas, "did not understand anything and inquired:

- What is the goal here are you going here?

"And with such that I was born here, I finished school, a medical institute and was assigned to the Unchansky District Military Office. I am a doctor, understandable to you? And military service ...

Due to the plywood partition, an excited voice of the chauffeur came:

- With a landing aslant, the picture is clear. You only pay close attention to its trim. The neck is not at all fitted. Again the smell - if sniffing. What is the cologne?

"Listen," said Ustimko already smiling, said. - Well, if you assume that I am a diversion, then why me a passport? Are the fascists such fools ...

- And you are here for the fascists aggication do not divide that they are smart! - angry military. - also found ...

He all leafed and leafed Volodin passport. Then he asked fast, drilling Volodya by the boyish eyes:

- Surname?

- Ustimno! - Volodya answered as quickly.

- Where did you live? What streets do you know in the city? What dating have? What institute finished?

A cute boy, which amazing and omnipresent investigator, he seemed to himself at these minutes, and how she looked like it was suddenly done on Dr. Vasya - this smoking young man with cubes, with a red cheeks who are angry with red cheeks, excited by the capture of the present, motley, cunning and insidious spy.

"And still has the incompleteness to ask why clauses are burning," came from behind the wall. - He, doll, does not know ...

It is not known how much it would still continue, do not enter the room where I was polled by Volodya, his school teacher, an angry physicist Egor Adamovich. Only now it was not an elderly man in a jacket, but a real, shaped, personnel military in a well-fitted gymnaster, with a flaw over his shoulder, with a pistol in a holster on his side.

- Hello, Ustimno! - as if all these were not worn long years, he said in a completely the same school dry and calm voice. - Are you a mater spy?

"I," rising by the school habit and feeling again a schoolboy, replied Volodya. - I, you see, passport ...

Absolutely the same gesture that once took written physics, Adam took a passport, and stretched it and extended to Volodya.

- Damn knows how time is jumping. And I, by the way, did not think that the doctor would turn out of you.

"I'm not a doctor, I am a doctor," for some reason rejoicing that Adam has such a brave look, Volodya replied. - And I did not think that you were a military ...

Adam smiled and sighed:

"We never know anything else about each other," he said, thus explained to the big and small calories. "We run, run, and then suddenly a boy comes back from the border with a crazy person ..."

Hugging Volodya by the shoulders, he went out with him from a low barrack, in which the ustimet just took for a motley spy, ordered to call a vigilant driver and, as long as she was displeasiful, hid his wrench under the seat and started the car with a handle, with unusual softness in his voice said:

- Now forgive, Ustimno. War will not be short - you can hardly see you. I'm sorry that you did a bad physics, I am a cheat teacher, and those rebels that we give at school will later would be useful for you. In general, in vain, you were so lucky to school.

"Well, well, good," Adam interrupted, "perfectly." We are all in my youth of genius, and then just workers. And it's not so bad. Farewell!

Volodya again sat down next to the driver and slammed the metal door of the cabin. Red Army in the pilot raised the barrier. The chauffeur asked peacefully:

- Is there any smoking?

"Spyware," Volodya replied.

"And you do not climb into a bottle, brother," the driver asked conciliatively. - You will enter my position. Conduct you ...

- Well, started ...

"You've been repeated," the driver advised, "we have a cool boy with this work." And the sewer is dropped - although the shaped, and do not regret ...

Ustimenko did not listen: there was tanks to meet. They were a bit, they dragged slowly, and in their type of Volodya understood, from which hell they broke out. One all the time threw the right, it was covered with a strange crust, as if he was burned. Armor was spinned on the other, the third could not move, he dragged his tractor.

"Breaks of grief of grief," said the chauffeur. - So my such specialty.

- Tankman?

- Yeah. Now one-sided one will hand over, a spoon-mug - and "Goodbye, girlfriend girls!".

"You throw me to the monument to Radishchev," said Volodya. - On the way to?

- order!

When the driver slowed down, Volodya suddenly stroke a shiver: a aunt's aunt's aunt in these bombings, is there a house that seemed to him sometime so much?

The house existed, and Ryanka grew under the window, under the larger, near which he kissed Barbar in that windy day. Is it really true?

- You must explain to me in love! - Strictly told him Barbara. - And you are not bad, you are even good - in your free time.

And here there is no barbarian.

Locked the doors, the staircase of the staircase, cracked the wall, probably from the bombing, swinging in the wind behind the window frame without glass of rowan. Hello, Ryabina! Was there anything or nothing but warming Siren and anti-aircraft's flips?

He knocked into the neighboring - seventh - apartment. Here I didn't know anything about aunt Agela. Someone saw her somehow, and when - no one really could say. And even in front Volodya did not let: they are generally here recently, they are not familiar with anyone ...

With a leaning longing in the heart, he once again walked around the house, touched the palm smooth and alive barrel of Rowan, sighed and went away. In the market area, his cruel bombing, "Junkers" were diverting with Wair, probably mistakenly accepting the old cross market for some kind of military facility. Or the cathedral was the guideline? The sweaty, in dust and in the lime, Volodya finally got to the military registration and enlistment office on the prurechenskaya, but for some reason everything was locked here. Bomber gone, over the city again, Navis smoke, flew soot. Anti-aircrafts also calmed down. Rookzak belts cut shoulders. Volodya sat a little bit on some steps, then realized that it was here, in this courtyard, in the Flygel there was once the province of Vyshino. And unbearably suddenly wanted to see this outglass, enter the Poluninsky office, maybe look at the old Yellow Erickson phone, according to which he called Barin's room: six thirty seven ...

Walking backpack, heavily stepping, he stopped near the flaghel and asked politely under the open window:

- Tell me, please, the family of Prov Yakovlevich lives here?

The window immediately appeared a woman - not yet old, large, squinting, looked around Volodya and inquired:

- Do you actually need?

- Yes, nothing special, - somewhat mixed from the sound of this acquaintance, mocking and powerful voice, said Volodya. "I see if I was a student of Prov Yakovlevich - or rather, I'm now his lady, and I wanted ...

- So sign up! - Woman told.

He entered loosely, wrestle his feet of the trick and said himself, surprised his memory:

- I have never seen you, but I remember well how you once explained from another room, where tea and marmalade, and how you complained to give Yakovlevich that twenty-two years have been married, and he does not give you to sleep ...

The widow of the midnight for a moment closed his eyes, her face was frozen, but suddenly, shook his head and seemed to beat out what Volodya reminded her, she smiled alive and friendly and, shook his hand, dragged him through the threshold in that very room, Where was the roots of the huge Pollyuninsky library were visible on the racks and where the Volodya listened to the famous written card near the Polunino Written Table. Nothing has changed here, and even the smell has preserved the same - it smelled with books, a hospital and the steady tobacco, which Ver Yakovlevich stumbled his tagging sleeves.

- Sit down! - said the widow of the midnight. - The view is exhausted. Want, I welcome coffee? And let's get acquainted - My name is Elena Nikolaevna. And you?

- I am Ustimno.

- Unnamed and patronymic?

- Vladimir Afanasyevich, - Red, said Volodya. - Only Prov Yakovlevich never called me.

She, smiling, looked at him. She had big eyes, bright and as if even flickering, and this light, when Elena Nikolaevna smiles, so painted her pale, the biggest face that she seemed like a fabulous beauty. But it was worth it to think about or moved thin eyebrows to the transfer, as she was made not only ugly, but something even unpleasant, tough and harsh-mocking.

"She is not alone - there are two of them," Ustimno thought quickly. "And he fell in love with Elena Nikolaevna when she smiled, and then there was no place to go."

From this thought he became terrible, as if he learned the thoroughly guarded the secret of the dead midnight, and Volodya, wrapped himself, drove all this away.

Coffee Elena Nikolaevna brought immediately, as if he was cooked to the Volodya parish, and Ustimno with pleasure, a volley, burning, drank a large cup and immediately asked yet.

"But I know why you came now," Elena Nikolaevna said, looking at Volodya, said Elena Nikolaevna. - Yes, what is called, on the go, with a backpack.

- What for? - surprised Ustimenko.

- Do you not want to confess?

"I'm honest, I don't understand," sincerely and slightly even louder than, Volodya said. - I accidentally, after the bombing ...

- And you do not know that I have written something about all my students? Is it unknown to you? And because you came?

- Not because! - already exclaimed Volodya. - Handy I give the floor, I don't know anything ...

- Do not know and not want to know? "With a quick and hostile smile, putting his cup on a tray, Elena Nikolaevna was inquired. - So what?

"No, I would like to know, of course," forcing himself to keep "in the framework," said Ustimenko. - But it's all, of course, trifles. I only have this question for you: is it really all a writek of Prov Yakovlevich and remained here unemployed, if you can put it? Is it really not interested in her? I know a little bit of the selection system by halfnie and can not understand how it happened that everything is so in former places and saved. Maybe you did not want to go to other hands?

- In which? Elena Nikolaevna asked coldly. - Here we have alone our hands are - Professor Zhovetyak. He was interested, looked, and carefully. Long watched, "studied" even how he himself was expressed. And reacted to the archive and to the card file negatively. So negatively that, at the rumors who came to me, somewhere in the responsible authority made a statement in the sense that, he knew before, as he held his "leisure", Professor Polunin, he would show this "the so-called professor" where the crayfish Winter ...

- What is it like?

- And so that the entire Polunino Archive was a professor of Zhovetyak characterized as a collection of ugly, immoral and absolutely negative jokes about the history of science, capable only to dismiss Soviet student from serving humanity ...

"Well, because the Zhovtyak is a famous bastard," said Volodya at all, said Volodya. - But he does not decide everything. Ganichev, for example ...

- Ganichev not for example, "Elena Nikolaevna interrupted Volodya. - What is he "for example"! He clounced for Prov, and then he became much to pass. The prov was predicted and even noted in the notes. And he is sick, weak ...

For open windows, the siren of an air alarm, then, on the right bank of Uhchi, the anti-aircraft was struck.

- You are not going to leave? - asked Volodya.

- I'm going, but only hard it is very now. Almost impossible…

And, intercepting the view of Volodya, aimed at racks and drawers of the card files, the most who Polunin called "Gorans", Elena Nikolaevna Solovo said:

- This will burn. Here, all the boiling of his thoughts, all deadlocks, in which he came, all the flour conscience ...

The widow of the midnight was a little book, but for the sincerity of her deep voice of Volodya almost did not notice the extra beautifulness of phrases. Then she added with longing:

- It would be better for textbooks. How many suggestions to it were addressed how many requests. Everything, it happened, laughed Prov Yakovlevich: "They think that with our business, Lelia, you can manage, as with the compilation of the cookbook." However, the textbooks are written by people less less than giving, rather than the prov, textbooks are needed, and if I had a wan author of the textbooks, then ...

She did not negotiate, embarrassed by a fixed and harsh view of Volodya. But he almost did not hear her words, he only thought that the Polunino Archive should not die. And suddenly, with a rough decisive characteristic, said:

- With books nothing can be done! And we will drive the file. Hide. It is impossible to burn it. What is war? Well, a year, well, two, at most. You have something like a kind of kindergarten - there is there and skare.

"I can't dig," said Polunin sharply. - I have no heart anywhere.

- I scream yourself, just what to add?

The owner is like an apartment where there were already suitcases in evacuation, Ustimno discovered a zinc tank designed to boil linen. The tank was huge, multiplier, with a dense lid. And two cincany troughs he also found - one to one. In the palication, already at dusk, he chose a comfortable place, flew over his palm and began to dig something like a trench. In Zarechye, the cannons were hard, from the city down to Unch, the hot ashes of the fire was carried, in the darkest Sky with an intermittent, frightening just of the motors, and fascist bomber were walked, the tanks of the refinery were exploded - Volodya was digging, swearing his inability, his kopeuries, his own Maiden's unbearable. Finally, by the night, to the coming unexpectedly silence, the grave for the Polunino card file was separated, and two zinc home domes - a tank for washing and a coffin of two twisted - omitted. I cry, as if, in fact, it was a funeral, I stood near the Ustimnika Elena Nikolayevna until he fired the land and did not picked up the cache with a broken brick, elapsed iron sheets from the old roof and glass sprawled from the windows during bombing. Now the grave looked a garbage ...

- Well, everything, - straightening, said Volodya. - Now goodbye!

- You would have though! - Not too persistently suggested Polunin.

There is a terribly wanted, and it was ridiculous at this time with a foreign passport, but still he went. Before the most beautiful street, to the warbarium house, he knew the passing yards and such lanes, where no patrol will find it. And, throwing the belts of the backpack on the shoulder, he went, notingly thinking that he would say Polunin, he knew that a card file was intended to be burned, and Elena Nikolaevna would like to be a wid of the author of the textbooks.

Then he suddenly remembered the Poluninsky notes and that he never found out that she was thinking about him - about the Ustimnik. But this suddenly seemed more than a unimportant, insignificant, small and selfish ...

Yuri Herman

My dear man

I will not give praise afraidly melting virtue, I do not show myself and not feeding the signs of life, the virtues that never makes a bitterness to meet a face to face with the enemy, and which is shamefully running from the competition when the laurel wreath is conquered among heat and dust .

John Milton

Who is sick for the work, he should be able to fight for him, otherwise he does not even need to take for any business.

Johann Wolfgang Guete

Chapter first

The train goes to the West

International Express moved slowly, as he believed to trains of this highest category, and both foreign diplomats immediately, each in their direction, retarded silk brizbiz on the mirror window of the car restaurant. Ustimno squinted and stood up even more carefully in these sports little, housing, arrogant people - in black evening costumes, in glasses, with cigars, with rings on the fingers. They did not notice it, with greed looked at silent, unbarrous spacious, and peace there, in the steppes over which the full moon sailed over in the black autumn sky. What did they hoped to see by moving the border? Fires? War? German tanks?

In the kitchen for Volodyina's back, the chefs chopped the meat, the meat smelledably smelled with a fried onion, the buffet of the tray suffered the stoves of the Russian "Zhigulevsky" beer. There was an hour of dinner, in the neighboring table, a buggy American journalist with thick fingers cleaned orange, his military "forecasts" respectfully listened to the glacial, with sloping hair, similar, as if twins, diplomats.

Bastard! - said Volodya.

What he says? - asked Tod-Gin.

Bastard! - repeated Ustimko. - Fascist!

Diplomats were taped by their heads, they smiled. The famous American journalist commentator joked. "This joke is already flying on the radiotelephone to my newspaper," he explained to his interlocutors and threw in his mouth with a liquecation of orange. His mouth was huge, like a frog, - from the ear to ear. And all the Troim all were very fun, but even more cheerful to them for cognac.

We must have calm! Said Tod-Gin, looking at the Ustimeta with compassion. - We must take yourself in hand, so yes.

Finally, the waiter approached, recommended by Volodya and Tod-Gina "Sturgeon in monastic" or "Barani chops". Ustimno shifted the menu, the waiter, shining a surgery, waited - a strict Tod-Gin with his fixed face was a waiter with an important and rich eastern foreigner.

Bottle of beer and bef-stroganov, "said Volodya.

Go to hell, Tod-Gin, - Ustimno got angry. - I have a lot of money.

Tod-basin repeated dry:

Porridge and tea.

The waiter pulled his eyebrows, made a sorrowful face and left. The American browser poured a brandy to Narzan, rinsed this mixture with his mouth and stuck with a black tobacco tube. And the gentleman approached them to Troim - as if it came out of the neighboring car, but from the collection of the works of Charles Dickens Lopuhius, dubish, with a duck nose and her mouth with a chicken. Here is something - this checkered striped - and said the journalist that phrase, from which Volodya even frown.

Do not! - asked Tod-Gin and squeezed his cold wrist with his cold hand. - It does not help, so yes ...

But Volodya did not hear Tod-Gina, or rather, I heard, but he was not prior to prudence. And, having risen at his table - high, flexible, in the old black sweater, - he gruelled on the whole car, drilling a journalist with mad eyes, glaked on his terrifying, gorgeous soul, self-studied English:

Hey you, browser! Yes, you, exactly you, I tell you ...

In the flat fatty face of the journalist flashed bewilderment, the diplomats instantly became correct-arrogant, Dickens Gentleman barely backed up.

You use the hospitality of my country! - shouted Volodya. Countries that I have a high honor to be a citizen. And I do not allow you so disgusting, and so cynically, and so it is enough to close about the great battle, which our people leads! Otherwise, I will choose you from this car to the damn mother ...

Approximately so Volodya represented himself what he said. In fact, he told the phrase much more meaningless, but nevertheless, the observer understood Volodya perfectly, it was visible by how the jaw had twisted and small, fish teeth in a froggy mouth. But immediately he was found - he was not so small, so as not to find a way out of any position.

Bravo! - he exclaimed and even portrayed something like applause. Bravo, my friend enthusiast! I am glad that you awakened your feelings with my little provocation. We did not travel more than a hundred kilometers from the border, and I have already received a grateful material ... "Your old pit barely not thrown out of the expression only for a small joke about the combat capability of the Russian people" - so my telegram will begin; It suits you, my hot-tempered friend?

What is he, the poor, could answer?

Draw a dry mine and get for BEF-Stroganov?

So Volodya and did. But the observer did not lag behind him: Rerep by his table, he wished to know who Ustimno, what he was doing, where it goes, why returns to Russia. And, recording, said:

Oh great. Missionary doctor returns to fight under the banner ...

Listen! - exclaimed Ustimenko. - Missionaries are priests, and I ...

The old pit will not spend, "the phone puffed, the journalist said. Old Pete knows his reader. And show your muscles, you really could throw me out of the car?

I had to show. Then the old pit showed his own and wished to drink with Volodya and his "friend - Eastern Bayron" brandy. Tod-junged porridge, poured liquid tea and left, and Volodya, feeling mocked views of diplomats and dickens striped, was tormented for a long time with the old peet, in every way whitening himself for a stupid scene.

What was there? - Strictly asked Tod-Gain, when Volodya returned to their coupe. And heard, lit a cigarette and said sadly:

They are always cunning us, so, yes, doctor. I was still small - this is ...

He showed his palm, which was:

That's the same, and they, like this old Pete, such, yes, let me candy. No, they did not beat us, they gave us candy. And my mother, she beat me, so, yes, because she could not live from her fatigue and illness. And I thought I would leave for this old pit, and he will always give me candy. And Pit adults also gave candy - alcohol. And we carried him the skins of animals and gold, so, yes, and then the death occurred ... the old Pete is very, very cunning ...

Yuri Herman

My dear man

I will not give praise afraidly melting virtue, I do not show myself and not feeding the signs of life, the virtues that never makes a bitterness to meet a face to face with the enemy, and which is shamefully running from the competition when the laurel wreath is conquered among heat and dust .

John Milton

Who is sick for the work, he should be able to fight for him, otherwise he does not even need to take for any business.

Johann Wolfgang Guete

Chapter first

The train goes to the West

International Express moved slowly, as he believed to trains of this highest category, and both foreign diplomats immediately, each in their direction, retarded silk brizbiz on the mirror window of the car restaurant. Ustimno squinted and stood up even more carefully in these sports little, housing, arrogant people - in black evening costumes, in glasses, with cigars, with rings on the fingers. They did not notice it, with greed looked at silent, unbarrous spacious, and peace there, in the steppes over which the full moon sailed over in the black autumn sky. What did they hoped to see by moving the border? Fires? War? German tanks?

In the kitchen for Volodyina's back, the chefs chopped the meat, the meat smelledably smelled with a fried onion, the buffet of the tray suffered the stoves of the Russian "Zhigulevsky" beer. There was an hour of dinner, in the neighboring table, a buggy American journalist with thick fingers cleaned orange, his military "forecasts" respectfully listened to the glacial, with sloping hair, similar, as if twins, diplomats.

- bastard! - said Volodya.

- What he says? - asked Tod-Gin.

- bastard! - repeated Ustimko. - Fascist!

Diplomats were taped by their heads, they smiled. The famous American journalist commentator joked. "This joke is already flying on the radiotelephone to my newspaper," he explained to his interlocutors and threw in his mouth with a liquecation of orange. His mouth was huge, like a frog, - from the ear to ear. And all the Troim all were very fun, but even more cheerful to them for cognac.

- It is necessary to have calm! Said Tod-Gin, looking at the Ustimeta with compassion. - We must take yourself in hand, so yes.

Finally, the waiter approached, recommended by Volodya and Tod-Gina "Sturgeon in monastic" or "Barani chops". Ustimno shifted the menu, the waiter, shining a surgery, waited - a strict Tod-Gin with his fixed face was a waiter with an important and rich eastern foreigner.

"Bottle of beer and bef-stroganov," Volodya said.

"Go to hell, Tod-Gin," Ustimno got angry. - I have a lot of money.

Tod-basin repeated dry:

- Porridge and tea.

The waiter pulled his eyebrows, made a sorrowful face and left. The American browser poured a brandy to Narzan, rinsed this mixture with his mouth and stuck with a black tobacco tube. And the gentleman approached them to Troim - as if it came out of the neighboring car, but from the collection of the works of Charles Dickens Lopuhius, dubish, with a duck nose and her mouth with a chicken. Here is something - this checkered striped - and said the journalist that phrase, from which Volodya even frown.

- Do not! - asked Tod-Gin and squeezed his cold wrist with his cold hand. - It does not help, so yes ...

But Volodya did not hear Tod-Gina, or rather, I heard, but he was not prior to prudence. And, having risen at his table - high, flexible, in the old black sweater, - he gruelled on the whole car, drilling a journalist with mad eyes, glaked on his terrifying, gorgeous soul, self-studied English:

- Hey you, browser! Yes, you, exactly you, I tell you ...

In the flat fatty face of the journalist flashed bewilderment, the diplomats instantly became correct-arrogant, Dickens Gentleman barely backed up.

- You use my country's hospitality! - shouted Volodya. Countries that I have a high honor to be a citizen. And I do not allow you so disgusting, and so cynically, and so it is enough to close about the great battle, which our people leads! Otherwise, I will choose you from this car to the damn mother ...

Approximately so Volodya represented himself what he said. In fact, he told the phrase much more meaningless, but nevertheless, the observer understood Volodya perfectly, it was visible by how the jaw had twisted and small, fish teeth in a froggy mouth. But immediately he was found - he was not so small, so as not to find a way out of any position.

- Bravo! - he exclaimed and even portrayed something like applause. Bravo, my friend enthusiast! I am glad that you awakened your feelings with my little provocation. We did not travel more than a hundred kilometers from the border, and I have already received a grateful material ... "Your old pit barely not thrown out of the expression only for a small joke about the combat capability of the Russian people" - so my telegram will begin; It suits you, my hot-tempered friend?

What is he, the poor, could answer?

Draw a dry mine and get for BEF-Stroganov?

So Volodya and did. But the observer did not lag behind him: Rerep by his table, he wished to know who Ustimno, what he was doing, where it goes, why returns to Russia. And, recording, said:

- Oh great. Missionary doctor returns to fight under the banner ...

- Listen! - exclaimed Ustimenko. - Missionaries are priests, and I ...

"We will not spend old pit," I puff the tube, the journalist said. Old Pete knows his reader. And show your muscles, you really could throw me out of the car?

I had to show. Then the old pit showed his own and wished to drink with Volodya and his "friend - Eastern Bayron" brandy. Tod-junged porridge, poured liquid tea and left, and Volodya, feeling mocked views of diplomats and dickens striped, was tormented for a long time with the old peet, in every way whitening himself for a stupid scene.

- What was there? - Strictly asked Tod-Gain, when Volodya returned to their coupe. And heard, lit a cigarette and said sadly:

- They are always cunning us, so, yes, doctor. I was still small - this is ...

He showed his palm, which was:

"That's the same, and they, like this old Pete, such, yes, let me candy." No, they did not beat us, they gave us candy. And my mother, she beat me, so, yes, because she could not live from her fatigue and illness. And I thought I would leave for this old pit, and he will always give me candy. And Pit adults also gave candy - alcohol. And we carried him the skins of animals and gold, so, yes, and then the death occurred ... the old Pete is very, very cunning ...

Volodya sighed:

- It turned out great. And now he will also write that I am not the pop, not the monk ...

Obgging on the upper shelf, it is undressed to panties, lay in crispy, cool, starch sheets and turned on the radio. Soon they should have transferred a summary of Sovinformbüro. Having laid his hands for his head, Fastend lay motionless - waited. Tod-basin standing in the window - the steppe was endless under the radiance. Finally, Moscow spoke: on this day, according to the speaker, Kiev fell. Volodya turned to the wall, pulled over the blanket over her sheets. For some reason, he was presented to him who called himself old pit, and he even closed him from a disgust.

"Nothing," said Tod-Gin deafness, "the USSR will win. It will still be very bad, but then it will come perfectly. After a night, the morning comes. I heard the radio - Adolf Hitler will surround Moscow so that no Russian is left of the city. And then he floods Moscow with water, he was all decided, so, yes, he wants, where Moscow earlier was, the sea will be done and the capital will not be the capital of communism. I heard, and I thought: I studied in Moscow, I must be where they want to see the sea. From the gun I get to the eye of Korshun, it is necessary in war. I get into the eye of a sable too. In the Central Committee I said like you, comrade doctor, now. I said they are a day if there is no, the eternal night will come. For our people, quite - so, yes. And I'm going to Moscow again, the second time I go. I'm not afraid of nothing terrible, no frost, and everything I can in war ...

Contrary to the problem, the only of our gold cannon, Batalov, discovered the only glitter of our gold. The ability to play intensive, but hidden from extraneous eye inner life, mental, intellectual, professional - that is, that is, the acting of acting Batalov, for the first time, had been involved in Heifitz, and sawed - Whether Watch Watch Yuri Herman (since without writing an actor Looks like forever prompt in the role of working guy). The scenario of the film "Dear My Man" was written by Herman specifically for Batalov and "on" Batalov, inspired and with great confidence in the actor, which was entrusted to be a mission of the approval of the seemingly worked "on the knee", striking on the living thread of the text. The result, obviously, surpassed the most bold writing expectations: The image of the Ustimno doctor was blinded by Batalov so cleverly, volume, convincingly and at the same time, with such a genuine, such a vital non-replacement that the author himself felt asleeply and did not joke. The glorified Trilogy of Hermann, which became the desktop book of all medical students, in fact, has grown from this dissatisfaction of the screenwriter, carried by the actor in the subtleties of the character understanding. Hermann in it only explored those depths of the character of Vladimir Ustimenko, which was already embodied by Batalia on the screen - rationalizing, analyzing, tracking its origin, formation, development, and nimalo without worrying about their original scenario material, more focusing in the plot (oddly enough it is Sounds) on the following characters of the same Batalov (Geusov's physics from "nine days of one year", Dr. Berezkin from the "Day of Happiness" ...)

And then say: the charm and the mystery of the "whale generation" ("they are not on the teeth - all the teeth are soft, they are not on the soups - the pans are small"), swept away by Batalov through his whole filmography (right up to complete exhausting of the type, almost self-speaking in the form of an intelligent The locksmith of Goosha), already in the "way of my man" of the Heifyza, clearly subsidence under the places stretched (if not to say - a stuntful) scenario. Running to the end of the fifties conservative (and in many ways), the installation of Herman-Hefi to "shine always, shine everywhere, Until the days of the last Donets, "thanks to Batalov undergoes a fundamental revision in the novel. Brilliant scene of operation in military conditions, under the roar of Shrapnel, with the wrong light of smokers - white hat, white respiratory bandage, Olympic tranquility of all traits, all muscles, sweating forehead and shaggy battal eyes , mostly intensively living in these moments a whole life - a scene, similar to the chastity, unrecognizable participants themselves. anticipated one of the German formulas included in the Chesttomatology: It is necessary to serve in your work, and not to know

There, under anchitolka, in military-lazaous ordinaryness and routine, half-widged with a bandage from immodest eyes, the Ustimno-Ustimno Batalia pours out all the radiance on the viewer, which carried the character throughout the film - carefully and gently, fearing splashing in everyday bustle. In this scene, the explanation and justification of its restraint (ill-wishers said: frozen) in all other human manifestations: love, grief, indignation. A dedicated one fully, undivided, uncompromising, he cannot be different. There are no "Odyssev in the MGL of the shipping office, Agamemnonon between the ticket markers" with their inquiry and the Burning gaze. Ustimno Batalova is a person with a case who is given all his strength, internships to waste himself.

The coldness and deseparation of the title hero with interest compensates for the acting of the second plan, it seems that competing in the brightness and expressive capacity of instantaneous (but not fleeting) outbreaks are unwittingly exposed by their feelings. The mighty touch of the shoulders of the Hero of Usovnichenko, disappointed in the object of love by a firm, late ("Ah, Lyuba, Lyuba. Love! ... Nikolaevna."); Burning view of the black eye of Dr. Meresova (Bella Vinogradova), a brutal female insult in her short drop ( "For whom I paint? - for you!"); The fierce roar of Captain Kozyrev (performed by Pereverzeva) in response to the attempts of Sanitar Zilina to switch his attention from Sergeant Stepanova on a smart nurse - all these seconds, tight-recognizable situations themselves unfold in the audience perception in history in life. On this rich talent background, even the magnificent Inna Makarova will be bored - very picturesque and feasting attractive in the role of Vari, but who did not say anything new in this film, in fact, once again having walked the "home" part of the role of Lyubovaya Shevtsova (because dramatic turn - From the "girls" to "women" - the actress is still ahead). It seems that her game was not impressed with Herman, for the novel borrowed from Makarov, except that Varkinka "like repoka" ... however, not in tactful self-sufficient and consists of a major virtue (and special happiness) women who have gone to his head, big, man? The one that "barely walks, a little breathing - only just he heard"? Did Inna Makarov, did not doubt his individuality deliberately, in order not to push out in the shadow of an expensive person - exactly how it learned to make her heroine?