The morning sunlight shines across the page as the opening words of the next entry are written. December Eighth.
DISSOLVE TO:
The moon floats over the tobogganing hills on the frozen Neva River. The hills, built of wood, decorated with fir trees, and brightly adorned with flags, provided the citizens of St. Petersburg with one of their favorite winter pastimes in this perfectly flat city.
POPRISHCHIN V.O.
I had every intention of going to work today, but various considerations held me back. I couldn't get that Spanish business out of my head! How can this 'Donna' person make herself a King? They won't allow it! In the first place, England won't stand for it. Then we must keep in mind the whole political set-up of the rest of Europe: there's the Austrian Emperor, there's our Tsar! I must confess that these recent events have me so perturbed that I could do nothing all day. In fact, at dinner Mavra, my domestic, remarked that I was very absent-minded. It's true. It seems that I absentmindedly threw two plates on the floor. After dinner, I decided to go out for a very long walk, to think all of this through. I was gone for quite a while. I found myself at the hills. I just stood and stared, but they were of no help whatsoever. Then, mostly, I lay on my bed, and thought about that Spanish question.
As if a pebble were tossed into the center of a pool of water, the moon that shines above the hills ripples and grows in the night sky.
The moonlight expands...
until it fills the entire screen.
VERY SLOW DISSOLVE TO: