:56:02
''How did it come to this?
Saints in heaven.
:56:05
How did it happen to him?
An artist who could not be denied.
:56:09
A poet, in fact. But a murderer?
:56:13
No.
:56:16
Yet the looking-glass image
was hard to refute.
:56:19
His fingers and cuffs were still
ruddy ith gore, and as he watched...
:56:23
in horror...
:56:27
the speckles of blood seemed
to multiply before his eyes...
:56:32
like maggots on a fetid corpse.
:56:34
What would become of him now?
Where would he run to...
:56:37
and where would he hide?
:56:40
The options then
were depressingly few.
:56:42
Indeed, his mind was
already racing...
:56:44
east across the frozen continent...''
:56:47
-DarIing.
-''...and over the frozen steppes...
:56:51
back to the refuge
of his childhood estate.''
:56:54
-I have a theme I want to work out.
-''To Russia, the Cossack call...''
:56:58
-That needs to be addressed.
-Can't you see I'm trying to work?
:57:07
-You're so seIfish.
-I had mutuaI inspiration in mind.
:57:11
-Can't you see I don't need it? I was...
-My Iove, don't be angry.
:57:15
-Oh, pIease.
-You've onIy yourseIf to bIame.
:57:18
It's your beauty that
summons the music.
:57:24
And when it comes...
:57:26
I must pIay.
:57:33
Damn you.