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Barin-Shabarin 9

Barin-Shabarin 9

8 hrs. 9 min.
I believed in the future of my country—Russia was changing before my eyes. I finished the presidential program and was eager to develop new lands. But I died in a conflict with traitors for whom the word “Homeland” was nothing but an empty sound—and who sliced budgets.

And for their sins, let them be repaid! Where did I sin so badly that I ended up in the 19th century, in the body of a moral scoundrel—a man who’d lost at cards, belonging to some landed gentleman? My estate is mortgaged at the bank; a painting of a naked young lady covers up a crack in the house—and then bandits come to my place like it’s home!

Oh yes—my mother fled to St. Petersburg, taking with her all the money that was there. Everything? No—he, that is, already I, had promised a ball to society…

— Master! Those inhuman things are threatening us again!—I hear the trembling voice of the steward.

— I’m coming, I’m coming, Yemyelka— with a sigh I take the pistol from the bedside table.
Well then, where has our luck gone! Russia, Mother—meet your son!
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