Rzhevskiy protiv Napoleona Page #2

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This scarecrow?

Lord, forgive me!

No. For this one, I'd be as well

without for three years, as ten.

Is that clear? And you're going to go like this

to Napoleon?

Bonjour, bonjour Count. Comment a va?

Long time, no see.

Bonjour, Madam. I apologize.

My peasant's shoes haven't been able to take me here.

The war.

Yes, war does terrible things to people.

You, Count,

have suffered spoiled taste.

Who is this scarecrow with you?

-I'm relying on your

professionalism, Madam.

This aunt must be turned

into a princess.

How many years do I have?

-Three hours.

For starters, men require

attractive packaging.

Here am I with a pair of wings,

coming near to you.

coming near to you.

My love soars above the fray.

above the fray.

Oh, this time

by a single pair of wings...

Lips, lips, lips. Lips are ladies' only weapon of

love, which are not covered by clothing.

And the most important part is

not what they are saying.

We have to charm him,

deceive, manipulate,

but most importantly,

under all circumstances,

you must not let the bumblebees touch your flowers.

Sorry, I do not understand botany,

but let the bumblebees go to hell.

If some land, so be it.

-What are you thinking by 'land', Lieutenant?

You have no nectar. Well,

with time you will understand.

So, Countess Rzhevska?

From now on, the fate of Russia

rests in your hands.

Girls, what luck!

They say Rzhevsky is back!

Not a word about me.

Not a word...

Ney, who is this Rzhevsky?

-Nonsense, my Emperor.

A hero, lover from local folklore

and wives' tales. Don't pay it any attention.

Ney, why isn't anyone

inviting me to dance?

You're a general.

Do something!

Go on, try it.

Now surely you will succeed.

Countess Rzhevska and Count Tolstoy!

Son of a b*tch...!

-Countess, you are a decent lady.

Curse in French.

Do you have a plan?

Why so tense?

I'm going to flirt with Napoleon.

Lieutenant, you're a woman.

You don't 'flirt', you only hang around...

Leo Nikolayevich, your chauvinism makes me

want to throw myself under a train.

Sorry!

Madam, your appearance here

greatly pleases Napoleon Bonaparte.

Then I wish him health.

And what's your name, young man?

I am the Emperor of France,

Napoleon Bonaparte.

Whoa! I'm sorry,

I was not aware.

Politics does not interest me,

but the true presence of a lover in the room,

can be detected by the smell.

I'm pleasantly surprised,

Madam. Usually,

I'm the one who makes those assessments...

-This is Moscow, naughty boy.

Here we're all predators.

You must tell me, where did you get that hat?

This is an original Armani.

-Stop bragging, Emperor.

Gees, how I like you.

What's this?

Well, all right.

Madam, I am ecstatic.

My life is often dangerous,

but never have I rescued

such a fragile creature as you.

What a job...

What a woman! Mon bnfique!

Steel, power, nature, Russia.

I've never had that.

A drink for courage.

Another against the complex.

A glass for the voice.

Where am I?

-... is what amazes me most personally.

Who am I?

-Ivan Ivanovich Rzhevsky.

Born near Samara.

Yes... You got drunk yesterday

Lieutenant, as a pig.

First you thought you were Marilyn Monroe.

Then you did a strip.

And then you danced the cancan until three in the morning.

"In Moscow, a new Cinderella!"

I do not remember.

-Look in the mirror! Look at you.

Have you lost your mind?

-What?

It started last night,

as always, good.

Hello?

After the ball, you wanted to go off and relax.

You relaxed yourself in a brothel.

If only you could've stopped there,

but no, you asked for Gypsies.

Three times you passed out and

three times you came back.

You were out there singing, playing, crying,

you promised to marry

with the Gypsy Baron's daughter.

And he was two hours explaining

it was no daughter, but a son.

You spent a lot of money from the budget.

Fish.

"You have one wish."

Do it

so that my head stops aching.

And?

It's good.

Nikolayevich...

And this is, as you say, only

a hero of wives' tales?

Rzhevsky back.

"Today confirmed by:

the rector of the school

of virtuous virgins

and gypsies Zara and Aza, independently.

This is the glory! And where am I?

You think I'm just a dumb soldier?

No, my Emperor.

You are a great military leader.

This is boring!

-My lord, hit me too.

How many times ? I...

I just want to be,

on the list of great lovers!

God, how he walks nicely!

Ma'am, are you okay?

-Drowsiness.

I see. How can I help?

-Tonight I have to be fresh,

as an eighth-grader.

Unfortunately, we don't do reincarnations.

But I can suggest:

mask, peeling, waxing.

All that and a bottle of mineral water.

-It will be done.

How nice to be a woman!

It hurts! I'll tell you anything,

Addresses, passwords, hiding places,

Just don't do any more down there.

-Do not be afraid. Just one second.

No! God! Please!

Don't!

Faster !

Tell me, please, who is that girl?

-That is Natasha Rostova.

Miss Europe of 1810.

Second place, after Norway.

Go, go...

Listen, guy.

I need your clothes.

Come on, take them off quickly.

This room is for men only.

Ladies are next door.

I'm never wrong with the door.

Chauvinist!

Come on, take them off.

Did you not hear me?

Take them off!

Listen, my name is Jean-Claude Van Damme.

I am also known

as "Muscles from Brussels."

Yes, I recognize you.

Take off your pants, I say.

It seems to me that you have to get out of here.

Okay. I recognize you.

-You do?

Yeah!

-Merci.

Yeah, but ...

Take your f***in' pants off!

Now!

Well, if you insist.

Now you will taste my fist!

What, chicken? Come on!

Watch out!

I asked nicely.

Well, well. Au revoir!

Why the f*** I came to Russia?

Nightmare.

Whose are you?

-Maximus! There you are, rascal.

Excuse me, miss.

But Maximus since he was a puppy

is drawn towards beauty.

He's yours?

-Yes. Dangerous hooligan

and libertine.

- What a miracle!

The miracle is you, Natalia.

- How do you know my name?

Who doesn't know the real Miss Europe?

The Norwegian icewoman

cannot match even the little toe on your foot.

So you are Lieutenant Rzhevsky?

-You know, the feeling won't leave me

that somewhere we have met before.

Yes, your face also looks familiar.

August 1808, Turkey.

Aboard the oligarchs' Aladdin,

"All- Inclusive".

No, this summer I was in Vienna,

for a demonstration of

global cooling.

When hundreds of naked women

protested near the Royal Palace?

I hurried over there!

But, alas, I was too late.

I'm sorry. You would have

enjoyed the sight, I'm sure.

I imagine.

-Excuse me,

Anything else?

Get me something stronger. And the lady?

This lady's about to go.

-Natalie, please do not go.

The war is over our heads,

whistling stray bullets.

Two lonely souls have found in this

mess of senseless violence,

unfulfilled dreams of a

long courtship. But...

There is no time.

-Lieutenant, I've lost your thread.

What are you saying?

-Natasha, I suggest we go to your home.

So, all I

heard about you is true?

Plain womanizer.

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