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flowers and champagne bubbled in three ornamental basins, the first of which
was a translucent violet in colour, the second ruby, the third crystal.
Negroes in scarlet turbans were busy with silver scoops filling shallow
goblets with champagne from the basins. In a gap in the wall of roses was a
man bouncing up and down on a stage in a red swallow-tail coat, conducting
an unbearably loud jazz band. As soon as he saw Margarita he bent down in
front of her until his hands touched the floor, then straightened up and
said in a piercing yell:
'Alleluia!'
He slapped himself once on one knee, then twice on the other, snatched
a cymbal from the hands of a nearby musician and struck it against a pillar.
As she floated away Margarita caught a glimpse of the virtuoso
bandleader, struggling against the polonaise that she could still hear
behind her, hitting the bandsmen on the head with his cymbal while they
crouched in comic terror.
At last they regained the platform where Koroviev had first met
Margarita with the lamp. Now her eyes were blinded with the light streaming
from innumerable bunches of crystal grapes. Margarita stopped and a little
amethyst pillar appeared under her left hand.
'You can rest your hand on it if you find it becomes too tiring,'
whispered Koroviev.
A black-skinned boy put a cushion embroidered with a golden poodle
under Margarita's feet. Obeying the pressure of an invisible hand she bent
her knee and placed her right foot on the cushion.
Margarita glanced around. Koroviev and Azazello were standing in formal
attitudes. Besides Azazello were three young men, who vaguely reminded
Margarita of Abadonna. A cold wind blew in her back. Looking round Margarita
saw that wine was foaming out of the marble wall into a basin made of ice.
She felt something warm and velvety by her left leg. It was Behemoth.
Margarita was standing at the head of a vast carpeted staircase
stretching downwards in front of her. At the bottom, so far away that she
seemed to be looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope, she could
see a vast hall with an absolutely immense fireplace, into whose cold, black
maw one could easily have driven a five-ton lorry. The hall and the
staircase, bathed in painfully bright light, were empty. Then Margarita
heard the sound of distant trumpets. For some minutes they stood motionless.
'Where are the guests? ' Margarita asked Koroviev.
'They will be here at any moment, your majesty. There will be no lack
of them. I confess I'd rather be sawing logs than receiving them here on
this platform.'
'Sawing logs? ' said the garrulous cat. ' I'd rather be a
tram-conductor and there's no job worse than that.'
'Everything must be prepared in advance, your majesty,' explained
Koroviev, his eye glittering behind the broken lens of his monocle. ' There
can be nothing more embarrassing than for the first guest to wait around
uncomfortably, not knowing what to do, while his lawful consort curses him
in a whisper for arriving too early. We cannot allow that at our ball, queen
Margot.'
'I should think not', said the cat.
'Ten seconds to midnight,' said Koroviev, ' it will begin in a
moment.'
Those ten seconds seemed unusually long to Margarita. They had
obviously passed but absolutely nothing seemed to be happening. Then there
was a crash from below in the enormous fireplace and out of it sprang a
gallows with a half-decayed corpse bouncing on its arm. The corpse jerked
itself loose from the rope, fell to the ground and stood up as a dark,
handsome man in tailcoat and lacquered pumps. A small, rotting coffin then
slithered out of the fireplace, its lid flew off and another corpse jumped
out. The handsome man stepped gallantly towards it and offered his bent arm.
The second corpse turned into a nimble little woman in black slippers and
black feathers on her head and then man and woman together hurried up the
staircase.
'The first guests!' exclaimed Koroviev. ' Monsieur Jacques and his
wife. Allow me to introduce to you, your majesty, a most interesting man. A
confirmed forger, a traitor to his country but no mean alchemist. He was
famous,' Koroviev whispered into Margarita's ear, ' for having poisoned the
king's mistress. Not everybody can boast of that, can they? See how
good-looking he is! '
Turning pale and open-mouthed with shock, Margarita looked down and saw
gallows and coffin disappear through a side door in the hall.
'We are delighted! ' the cat roared to Monsieur Jacques as he mounted
the steps.
Just then a headless, armless skeleton appeared in the fireplace below,
fell down and turned into yet another man in a tailcoat. Monsieur Jacques'
wife had by now reached the head of the staircase where she knelt down, pale
with excitement, and kissed Margarita's foot.
'Your majesty . . .' murmured Madame Jacques.
'Her majesty is charmed! ' shouted Koroviev. 'Your majesty . . .' said
Monsieur Jacques in a low voice.
'We are charmed! ' intoned the cat. The young men beside Azazello,
smiling lifeless but welcoming smiles, were showing Monsieur and Madame
Jacques to one side, wlhere they were offered goblets of champagne by the
Negro attendants. The single man in tails came up the staircase at a run.
'Count Robert,' Koroviev whispered to Margarita. ' An equally
interesting character. Rather amusing, your majesty-- the case is reversed:
he was the queen's lover and poisoned his own wife.'
'We are delighted. Count,' cried Behemoth.
One after another three coffins bounced out o.f the fireplace,
splitting and breaking open as they fell, then someone in a black cloak who
was immediately stabbed in the back by the next person to come down the
chimney. There was a muffled shriek. When an almost totally decomposed
corpse emerged from the fireplace, Margarita frowned and a hand, which
seemed to be Natasha's, offered her a flacon of sal volatile.
The staircase began to fill up. Now on almost every step there were men
in tailcoats accompanied by naked women who only differed in the colour of
their shoes and the feathers on their heads.
Margarita noticed a woman with the downcast gaze of a nun hobbling
towards her, thin, shy, hampered by a stsrange wooden boot on her left leg
and a broad green kerchief round her neck.
'Who's that woman in green? ' Margarita enquired.
'A most charming and respectable lady,' whispered Koroviev. ' Let me
introduce you--Signora Toffana. She was extremely popular among the young
and attractive ladies of Naples and Palermo, especially among those who were
tired of their husbands. Women do get bored with their husbands, your
majesty . . .' ' Yes,' replied Margarita dully, smiling to two men in
evening dress who were bowing to kiss her knee and her foot.
'Well,' Koroviev managed to whisper to Margarita as he simultaneously
cried : ' Duke! A glass of champagne? We are charmed! . . . Well, Signora
Toffana sympathised with those poor women and sold them some liquid in a
bladder. The woman poured the liquid into her husband's soup, who ate it,
thanked her for it and felt splendid. However, after a few hours he would
begin to feel a terrible thirst, then lay down on his bed and a day later
another beautiful Neapolitan lady was as free as air.'
'What's that on her leg? ' asked Margarita, without ceasing to offer
her hand to the guests who had overtaken Signora Toffana on the way up. '
And why is she wearing green round her neck? Has she a withered neck? '
'Charmed, Prince!' shouted Koroviev as he whispered to Margarita : '
She has a beautiful neck, but something unpleasant happened to her in
prison. The thing on her leg, your majesty, is a Spanish boot and she wears
a scarf because when her jailers found out that about five hundred
ill-matched husbands had been dispatched from Naples and Palermo for ever,
they strangled Signora Toffana in a rage.'
'How happy I am, your majesty, that I have the great honour . . .'
whispered Signora Toffana in a nun-like voice, trying to fall on one knee
but hindered by the Spanish boot. Koroviev and Behemoth helped Signora
Toffana to rise.
'I am delighted,' Margarita answered her as she gave her hand to the
next arrival.
People were now mounting the staircase in a flood. Margarita ceased to
notice the arrivals in the hall. Mechanically she raised and lowered her
hand, bared her teeth in a smile for each new guest. The landing behind her
was buzzing with voices, and music like the waves of the sea floated out
from the ball-rooms.
'Now this woman is a terrible bore.' Koroviev no longer bothered to
whisper but shouted it aloud, certain that no one could hear his voice over
the hubbub. ' She loves coming to a ball because it gives her a chance to
complain about her handkerchief.'
Among the approaching crowd Margarita's glance picked out the woman at
whom Koroviev was pointing. She was young, about twenty, with a remarkably
beautiful figure but a look of nagging reproach.
'What handkerchief? ' asked Margarita.
'A maid has been assigned to her,' Koroviev explained, ' who for
thirty years has been putting a handkerchief on her bedside table. It is
there every morning when she wakes up. She burns it in the stove or throws
it in the river but every morning it appears again beside her.'
'What handkerchief?' whispered Margarita, continuing to lower and
raise her hand to the guests.
'A handkerchief with a blue border. One day when she was a waitress in
a cafe the owner enticed her into the storeroom and nine months later she
gave birth to a boy, carried him into the woods, stuffed a handkerchief into
his mouth and then buried him. At the trial she said she couldn't afford to
feed the child.'
'And where is the cafe-owner? ' asked Margarita.
'But your majesty,' the cat suddenly growled, ' what has the
cafe-owner got to do with it? It wasn't he who stifled the baby in the
forest, was it? '
Without ceasing to smile and to shake hands with her right hand, she
dug the sharp nails of her left hand into Behemoth's ear and whispered to
the cat:
'If you butt into the conversation once more, you little horror . . .'
Behemoth gave a distinctly unfestive squeak and croaked:
'Your majesty . . . you'll make my ear swell . . . why spoil the ball
with a swollen ear? I was speaking from the legal point of view ... I'll be
quiet, I promise, pretend I'm not a cat, pretend I'm a fish if you like but
please let go of my ear!'
Margarita released his ear.
The woman's grim, importunate eyes looked into Margarita's :
'I am so happy, your majesty, to be invited to the great ball of the
full moon.'
'And I am delighted to see you,' Margarita answered her, ' quite
delighted. Do you like champagne? '
'Hurry up, your majesty! ' hissed Koroviev quietly but desperately. '
You're causing a traffic-jam on the staircase.'
'Yes, I like champagne,' said the woman imploringly, and began to
repeat mechanically: ' Frieda, Frieda, Frieda! My name is Frieda, your
majesty! '
'Today you may get drunk, Frieda, and forget about everything,' said
Margarita.
Frieda stretched out both her arms to Margarita, but Koroviev and
Behemoth deftly took an arm each and whisked her off into the crowd.
By now people were advancing from below like a phalanx bent on
assaulting the landing where Margarita stood. The naked women mounting the
staircase between the tail-coated and white-tied men floated up in a
spectrum of coloured bodies that ranged from white through olive, copper and
coffee to quite black. In hair that was red, black, chestnut or flaxen,
sparks flashed from precious stones. Diamond-studded orders glittered on the
jackets and shirt-fronts of the men. Incessantly Margarita felt the touch of
lips to her knee, incessantly she offered her hand to be kissed, her face
stretched into a rigid mask of welcome.
'Charmed,' Koroviev would monotonously intone, ' We are charmed . . .
her majesty is charmed . . .'
'Her majesty is charmed,' came a nasal echo from Azazello, standing
behind her.
'I am charmed! ' squeaked the cat.
'Madame la marquise,' murmured Koroviev, ' poisoned her father, her
two brothers and two sisters for the sake of an inheritance . . . Her
majesty is delighted, Mme. Minkin! . . . Ah, how pretty she is! A trifle
nervous, though. Why did she have to burn her maid with a pair of
curling-tongs? Of course, in the way she used them it was bound to be fatal
. . . Her majesty is charmed! . . . Look, your majesty--the Emperor Rudolf--
magician and alchemist . . . Another alchemist--he was hanged . . . Ah,
there she is! What a magnificent brothel she used to keep in Strasbourg! . .
. We arc delighted, madame! . . . That woman over there was a Moscow
dressmaker who had the brilliantly funny idea of boring two peep-holes in
the wall of her fitting-room . . .'
'And didn't her lady clients know? enquired Margarita. ' Of course,
they all knew, your majesty,' replied Koroviev. ' Charmed! . . . That young
man over there was a dreamer and an eccentric from childhood. A girl fell in
love with him and he sold her to a brothel-keeper . . .
On and on poured the stream from below. Its source--the huge
fireplace--showed no sign of drying up. An hour passed, then another.
Margarita felt her chain weighing more and more. Something odd was happening
to her hand : she found she could not lift it without wincing. Koroviev's
remarks ceased to interest her. She could no longer distinguish between
slant-eyed Mongol faces, white faces and black faces. They all merged into a
blur and the air between them seemed to be quivering. A sudden sharp pain
like a needle stabbed at Margarita's right hand, and clenching her teeth she
leaned her elbow on the little pedestal. A sound like the rustling of wings
came from the rooms behind her as the horde of guests danced, and Margarita
could feel the massive floors of marble, crystal and mosaic pulsating
rhythmically.
Margarita showed as little interest in the emperor Caius Caligula and
Messalina as she did in the rest of the procession of kings, dukes, knights,
suicides, poisoners, gallows-birds, procuresses, jailers, card-sharpers,
hangmen, informers, traitors, madmen, detectives and seducers. Her head swam
with their names, their faces merged into a great blur and only one face
remained fixed in her memory--Malyuta Skuratov with his fiery beard.
Margarita's legs were buckling and she was afraid that she n^ight burst into
tears at any moment. The worst pain came from her right knee, which all the
guests had kissed. It was swollen, the skin on it had turned blue in spite
of Natasha's constant attention to it with a sponge soaked in fragrant
ointment. By the end of the third hour Margarita glanced wearily down and
saw with a start of joy that the flood of guests was thinning out.
'Every ball is the same, your majesty.' whispered Koroviev, ' at about
this time the arrivals begin to decrease. I promise you that this torture
will not last more than a few minutes longer. Here comes a party of witches
from the Brocken, they're always the last to arrive. Yes, there they are.
And a couple of drunken vampires ... is that all? Oh, no, there's one more .
. . no, two more.'
The last two guests mounted the staircase.
'Now this is someone new,' said Koroviev, peering through his monocle.
' Oh, yes, now I remember. Azazello called on him once and advised him, over
a glass of brandy, how to get rid of a man who was threatening to denounce
him. So he made his friend, who was under an obligation to him, spray the
other man's office walls with poison.'
'What's his name? ' asked Margarita.
'I'm afraid I don't know,' said Koroviev, ' You'd better ask Azazello.
'And who's that with him? '
'That's his friend who did the job. Delighted to welcome you! ' cried
Koroviev to the last two guests.
The staircase was empty, and although the reception committee waited a
little longer to make sure, no one else appeared from the fireplace.
A second later, half-fainting, Margarita found herself beside the pool
again where, bursting into tears from the pain in her arm and leg, she
collapsed to the floo:r. Hella and Natasha comforted her, doused her in
blood and massaged her body until she revived again.
'Once more, queen Margot,' whispered Koroviev. ' You must make the
round of the ballrooms just once more to show our guests that they are not
being neglected.'
Again Margarita floated away from the pool. In place of Johan Strauss'
orchestra the stage behind the wall of tulips had been taken over by a jazz
band of frenetic apes. An enormous gorilla with shaggy sideburns and holding
a trumpet was leaping clumsily up and down as he conducted. Orang-utan
trumpeters sat in the front row, each with a chimpanzee accordionist on his
shoulders. Two baboons with manes like lions' were playing the piano, their
efforts completely drowned by the roaring, squeaking and banging of the
saxophones, violins and drums played by troops of gibbons, mandrils and
marmosets. Innumerable couples circled round the glass floor with amazing
dexterity, a mass of bodies moving lightly and gracefully as one. Live
butterflies fluttered over the dancing horde, flowers drifted down from the
ceiling. The electric light had been turned out, the capitals of the pillars
were now lit by myriads of glow-worms, and will-o'-the-wisps danced through
the air.
Then Margarita found herself by the side of another pool, this time of
vast dimensions and ringed by a colonnade. A gigantic black Neptune was
pouring a broad pink stream from his great mouth. Intoxicating fumes of
champagne rose from the pool. Joy reigned untrammelled. Women, laughing,
handed their bags to their escorts or to the Negroes who ran along the sides
holding towels, and dived shrieking into the pool. Spray rose in showers.
The crystal bottom of the pool glowed with a faint light which shone through
the sparkling wine to light up the silvery bodies of the swimmers, who
climbed out of the pool again completely drunk. Laughter rang out beneath
the pillars until it drowned even the jazz ba.nd.
In all this debauch Margarita distinctly saw one totally drunken
woman's face with eyes that were wild with intoxication yet still
imploring--Frieda.
Margarita's head began to spin with the fumes of the wine and she was
just about to move on when the cat staged one of his tricks in the swimming
pool. Behemoth made a few magic passes in front of Neptune's moiath ;
immediately all the champagne drained out of the pool, an-d Neptune began
spewing forth a stream of brown liquid. Shrieking with delight the women
screamed : ' Brandy! ' In a few seconds the pool was full. Spinning round
three times like a top the cat leaped into the air and dived into the
turbulent sea of brandy. It crawled out, spluttering, its tie soaked, the
gilding gone from its whiskers, and minus its lorgnette. Only one woman
dared follow Behemoth's example --the dressmaker--procuress and her escort,
a handsome young mulatto. They both dived into the brandy, but before she
had time to see any more Margarita was led away by Koroviev.
They seemed to take wing and in their flight Margarita first saw great
stone tanks full of oysters, then a row of hellish furnaces blazing away
beneath the glass floor and attended by a frantic crew of diabolical chefs.
In the confusion she remembered a glimpse of dark caverns lit by candles
where girls were serving meat that sizzled on glowing coals and revellers
drank Margarita's health from vast mugs of beer. Then came polar bears
playing accordions and dancing a Russian dance on a stage, a salamander
doing conjuring tricks unharmed by the flames around it ... And for a second
time Margarita felt her strength beginning to flag.
'The last round,' whispered Koroviev anxiously, ' and then we're
free.'
Escorted by Koroviev, Margarita returned to the ballroom, but now the
dance had stopped and the guests were crowded between the pillars, leaving
an open space in the middle of the room. Margarita could not remember who
helped her up to a platform which appeared in the empty space. When she had
mounted it, to her amazement she heard a bell strike midnight, although by
her reckoning midnight was long past. At the last chime of the invisible
clock silence fell on the crowd of guests.
Then Margarita saw Woland. He approached surrounded by Abadonna,
Azazello and several young men in black resembling Abadonna. She now noticed
another platform beside her own, prepared for Woland. But he did not make
use of it. Margarita was particularly surprised to notice that Woland
appeared at the ball in exactly the same state in which he had been in the
bedroom. The same dirty, patched nightshirt hung from his shoulders and his
feet were in darned bedroom slippers. Woland was armed with his sword but he
leaned on the naked weapon as though it were a walking stick.
Limping, Woland stopped beside his platform. At once Azazello appeared
in front of him bearing a dish. On that dish Margarita saw the severed head
of a man with most of its front teeth missing. There was still absolute
silence, only broken by the distant sound, puzzling in the circumstances, of
a door-bell ringing.
'Mikhail Alexandrovich,' said Woland quietly to the head, at which its
eyelids opened. With a shudder Margarita saw that the eyes in that dead face
were alive, fully conscious and tortured with pain.
'It all came true, didn't it? ' said Woland, staring at the eyes of
the head. ' Your head was cut off by a woman, the meeting didn't take place
and I am living in your flat. That is a fact. And a fact is the most
obdurate thing in the world. But what interests us now is the future, not
the facts of the past. You have always been a fervent proponent of the
theory that when a man's head is cut off his life stops, he turns to dust
and he ceases to exist. I am glad to be able to tell you in front of all my
guests-- despite the fact that their presence here is proof to the contrary
--that your theory is intelligent and sound. Now--one theory deserves
another. Among them there is one which maintains that a man will receive his
deserts in accordance with his beliefs. So be it! You shall depart into the
void and from the goblet into which your skull is about to be transformed I
shall have the pleasure of drinking to life eternal! '
Woland raised his sword. Immediately the skin of the head darkened and
shrank, then fell away in shreds, the eyes disappeared and in a second
Margarita saw on the dish a yellowed skull, with emerald eyes and pearl
teeth, mounted on a golden stand. The top of the skull opened with a hinge.
'In a second, messire,' said Koroviev, noticing Woland's enquiring
glance, ' he will stand before you. I can hear the creak of his shoes and
the tinkle as he puts down the last glass of champagne of his lifetime. Here
he is.'
A new guest, quite alone, entered the ballroom. Outwardly he was no
different from the thousands of other male guests, except in one thing--he
was literally staggering with fright. Blotches glowed on his cheeks and his
eyes were swivelling with alarm. The guest was stunned. Everything that he
saw shocked him, above all the way Woland was dressed.
Yet he was greeted with marked courtesy.
'Ah, my dear Baron Maigel,' Woland said with a welcoming smile to his
guest, whose eyes were starting out of his head. ' I am happy to introduce
to you,' Woland turned towards his guests, ' Baron Maigel, who works for the
Entertainments Commission as a guide to the sights of the capital for
foreign visitors.'
Then Margarita went numb. She recognised this man Maigel. She had
noticed him several times in Moscow theatres and restaurants. ' Has he died
too? ' Margarita wondered. But the matter was soon explained.
'The dear Baron,' Woland continued with a broad smile, ' was charming
enough to ring me up as soon as I arrived in Moscow and to offer me his
expert services as a guide to the sights of the city. Naturally I was happy
to invite him to come and see me.'
Here Margarita noticed that Azazello handed the dish with the skull to
Koroviev.
'By the way. Baron,' said Woland, suddenly lowering his voice
confidentially, ' rumours have been going round that you have an
unquenchable curiosity. This characteristic, people say, together with your
no less developed conversational gifts, has begun to attract general
attention. What is more, evil tongues have let slip the words "
eavesdropper" and " spy." What is more, there is a suggestion that this may
bring you to an unhappy end in less than a month from now. So in order to
save you from the agonising suspense of waiting, we have decided to come to
your help, making use of the fact that you invited yourself to see me with
the aim of spying and eavesdropping as much as you could.'
The Baron turned paler than the pallid Abadonna and then something
terrible happened. Abadonna stepped in front of the Baron and for a second
took off his spectacles. At that moment there was a flash and a crack from
Azazello's hand and the Baron staggered, crimson blood spurting from his
chest and drenching his starched shirtfront and waistcoat. Koroviev placed
the skull under the pulsating stream of blood and when the goblet was full
handed it to Woland. The Baron's lifeless body had meanwhile crumpled to the
floor.
'Your health, ladies and gentlemen,' said Woland and raised the goblet
to his lips.
An instant metamorphosis took place. The nightshirt and darned slippers
vanished. Woland was wearing a black gown with a sword at his hip. He strode
over to Margarita, offered her the goblet and said in a commanding voice :
'Drink!'
Margarita felt dizzy, but the cup was already at her lips and a voice
was whispering in her ears :
'Don't be afraid, your majesty . . . don't be afraid, your majesty,
the blood has long since drained away into the earth and grapes have grown
on the spot.'
Her eyes shut, Margarita took a sip and the sweet juice ran through her
veins, her ears rang. She was deafened by cocks crowing, a distant band
played a march. The crowd of guests faded--the tailcoated men and the women
withered to dust and before her eyes the bodies began to rot, the stench of
the tomb filled the air. The columns dissolved, the lights went out, the
fountains dried up and vanished with the camellias and the tulips. All that
remained was what had been there before : poor Berlioz's drawing-room, with
a shaft of light falling through its half-open door. Margarita opened it
wide and went in.
Everything in Woland's bedroom was as it had been before the ball.
Woland was sitting in his nightshirt on the bed, only this time Hella was
not rubbing his knee, and a meal was laid on the table in place of the
chessboard. Koroviev and Azazello had removed their tailcoats and were
sitting at table, alongside them the cat, who still refused to be parted
from his bow-tie even though it was by now reduced to a grubby shred.
Tottering, Margarita walked up to the table and leaned on it. Woland
beckoned her, as before, to sit beside him on the bed. ' Well, was it very
exhausting? ' enquired Woland. ' Oh no, messire,' replied Margarita in a
scarcely audible voice. ' Noblesse oblige,' remarked the cat, pouring out a
glassful of clear liquid for Margarita.
'Is that vodka? ' Margarita asked weakly. The cat jumped up from its
chair in indignation. ' Excuse me, your majesty,' he squeaked, ' do you
think I would give vodka to a lady? That is pure spirit!' Margarita smiled
and tried to push away the glass. ' Drink it up,' said Woland and Margarita
at once picked up the glass.
'Sit down, Hella,' ordered Woland, and explained to Margarita : ' The
night of the full moon is a night of celebration, and I dine in the company
of my close friends and my servants. Well, how do you feel? How did you find
that exhausting ball? '
'Shattering! ' quavered Koroviev. ' They were all charmed, they all
fell in love with her, they were all crushed! Such tact, such savoir-faire,
such fascination, such charm! '
Woland silently raised his glass and clinked it with Margarita's. She
drank obediently, expecting the spirit to knock her out. It had no ill
effect, however. The reviving warmth flowed through her body, she felt a
mild shock in the back of her neck, her strength returned as if she had just
woken from a long refreshing sleep and she felt ravenously hungry.
Remembering that she had not eaten since the morning of the day before, her
hunger increased and she began wolfing down caviar.
Behemoth cut himself a slice of pineapple, salted and peppered it, ate
it and chased it down with a second glass of spirit with a flourish that
earned a round of applause.
After Margarita's second glassful the light in the candelabra burned
brighter and the coals in the fireplace glowed hotter, yet she did not feel
the least drunk. As her white teeth bit into the meat Margarita savoured the
delicious juice that poured from it and watched Behemoth smearing an oyster
with mustard.
'If I were you I should put a grape on top of it, too,' said Hella,
digging the cat in the ribs.
'Kindly don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs,' Behemoth replied.
' I know how to behave at table, so mind your own business.'
'Oh, how nice it is to dine like this, at home,' tinkled Koro-viev's
voice, ' just among friends . . .'
'No, Faggot,' said the cat. ' I like the ball--it's so grand and
exciting.'
'It's not in the least exciting and not very grand either, and those
idiotic bears and the tigers in the bar--they nearly gave me migraine with
their roaring,' said Woland.
'Of course, messire,' said the cat. ' If you think it wasn't very
grand, I immediately find myself agreeing with you.'
'And so I should think,' replied Woland.
'I was joking,' said the cat meekly ' and as for those tigers, I'll
have them roasted.'
'You can't eat tiger-meat' said Hella.
'Think so? Well, let me tell you a story,' retorted the cat. Screwing
up its eyes with pleasure it told a story of how it had once spent nineteen
days wandering in the desert and its only food had been the meat of a tiger
it had killed. They all listened with fascination and when Behemoth came to
the end of his story they all chorussed in unison :
'Liar! '
'The most interesting thing about that farrago,' said Woland, ' was
that it was a lie from first to last.'
'Oh, you think so, do you? ' exclaimed the cat and everybody thought
that it was about to protest again, but it only said quietly : ' History
will be my judge.'
'Tell me,' revived by the vodka Margot turned to Azazello :
'did you shoot that ex-baron? '
'Of course,' replied Azazello,' why not? He needed shooting.'
'I had such a shock! ' exclaimed Margarita, ' it happened so
unexpectedly! '
'There was nothing unexpected about it,' Azazello objected, and
Koroviev whined :
'Of course she was shocked. Why, even I was shaking in my shoes! Bang!
Crash! Down went the baron! '
'I nearly had hysterics,' added the cat, licking a caviar-smeared
spoon.
'But there's something I can't understand,' said Margarita, her eyes
sparkling with curiosity. ' Couldn't the music and general noise of the ball
be heard outside? '
'Of course not, your majesty,' said Koroviev. ' We saw to that. These
things must be done discreetly.'
'Yes, I see ... but what about that man on the staircase when Azazello
and I came up ... and the other one at the foot of the staircase? I had the
impression that they were keeping watch on your flat.'
'You're right, you're right,' cried Koroviev,' you're right, my dear
Margarita Nikolayevna! You have confirmed my suspicions. Yes, he was
watching our flat. For a while I thought he was some absent-minded professor
or a lover mooning about on the staircase. But no! I had an uncomfortable
feeling he might be watching the flat. And there was another one at the
bottom of the stairs too? And the one at the main entrance-- did he look the
same? ' ' Suppose they come and arrest you? ' asked Margarita.
'Oh, they'll come all right, fairest one, they'll come!' answered
Koroviev. ' I feel it in my bones. Not now, of course, but they'll come when
they're ready. But I don't think they'll have much luck.'
'Oh, what a shock I had when the Baron fell! ' said Margarita,
obviously still feeling the effects of seeing her first murder. ' I suppose
you're a good shot? '
'Fair,' answered Azazello.
'At how many paces? '
'As many as you like,' replied Azazello. ' It's one thing to hit
Latunsky's windows with a hammer, but it's quite another to hit him in the
heart.'
'In the heart! ' exclaimed Margarita, clutching her own heart. ' In
the heart! ' she repeated grimly.
'What's this about Latunsky? ' enquired Woland, frowning at Margarita.
Azazello, Koroviev and Behemoth looked down in embarrassment and
Margarita replied, blushing :
'He's a critic. I wrecked his flat this evening.'
'Did you now! Why?'
'Because, messire,' Margarita explained, ' he destroyed a certain
master.'
'But why did you put yourself to such trouble?' asked Woland.
'Let me do it, messire!' cried the cat joyfully, jumping to its feet.
'You sit down,' growled Azazello, rising. ' I'll go at once.'
'No!' cried Margarita. ' No, I beg you, messire, you mustn't!'
'As you wish, as you wish,' replied Woland. Azazello sat down again.
'Where were we, precious queen Margot?' said Koroviev. ' Ah yes, his
heart... He can hit a man's heart all right,' Koroviev pointed a long
.finger at Azazello. ' Anywhere you like. Just name the auricle--or the
ventricle.'
For a moment Margarita did not grasp the implication of this, then she
exclaimed in amazement:
'But they're inside the body--you can't see them! '
'My dear,' burbled Koroviev, ' that's the whole point--you can't see
them! That's the joke! Any fool can hit something you can see!'
Koroviev took the seven of spades out of a box, showed it to Margarita
and asked her to point at one of the pips. Margarita chose the one in the
upper right-hand corner. Hella hid the card under a pillow and shouted :
'Ready!'
Azazello, who was sitting with his back to the pillow, took a black
automatic out of his trouser pocket, aimed the muzzle over his shoulder and,
without turning round towards the bed, fired, giving Margarita an enjoyable
shock. The seven of spades was removed from under the pillow. The upper
right-hand pip was shot through.
'I wouldn't like to meet you when you've got a revolver,' said
Margarita with a coquettish look at Azazello. She had a passion for people
who did things well.
'My precious queen,' squeaked Koroviev,' I don't recommend anybody to
meet him even without his revolver! I give you my word of honour as an
ex-choirmaster that anybody who did would regret it.'
During the trial of marksmanship the cat had sat scowling. Suddenly it
announced:
'I bet I can shoot better than that.'
Azazello snorted, but Behemoth was insistent and demanded not one but
two revolvers. Azazello drew another pistol from his left hip pocket and
with a sarcastic grin handed them both to the cat. Two pips on the card were
selected. The cat took a long time to prepare, then turned its back on the
cushion. Margarita sat down with her fingers in her ears and stared at the
owl dozing on the mantelpiece. Behemoth fired from both revolvers, at which
there came a yelp from Hella, the owl fell dead from the mantelpiece and the
clock stopped from a bullet in its vitals. Hella, one finger bleeding, sank
her nails into the cat's fur. Behemoth in retaliation clawed at her hair and
the pair of them rolled on the floor in a struggling heap. A glass fell off
the table and broke.
'Somebody pull this she-devil off me! ' wailed the cat, lashing out at
Hella who had thrown the animal on its back and was sitting astride it. The
combatants were separated and Koroviev healed Hella's wounded finger by
blowing on it.
'I can't shoot properly when people are whispering about me behind my
back! ' shouted Behemoth, trying to stick back into place a large handful of
fur that had been torn off his back.
'I bet you,' said Woland with a smile at Margarita, ' that he did that
on purpose. He can shoot perfectly well.'
Hella and the cat made friends again and sealed their reconciliation
with a kiss. Someone removed the card from under the cushion and examined
it. Not a single pip, except the one shot through by Azazello had been
touched.
'I don't believe it,' said the cat, staring through the hole in the
card at the light of the candelabra.
Supper went gaily on. The candles began to gutter, a warm dry heat
suffused the room from the fireplace. Having eaten her fill, a feeling of
well-being came over Margarita. She watched as Azazello blew smoke-rings at
the fireplace and the cat spiked them on the end of his sword. She felt no
desire to go, although by her timing it was late--probably, she thought,
about six o'clock in the morning. During a pause Margarita turned to Woland
and said timidly :
'Excuse me, but it's time for me to go ... it's getting late . . .' '
Where are you going in such a hurry?' enquired Woland politely but a little
coldly. The others said nothing, pretending to be watching the game with the
smoke-rings.
'Yes, it's time,' said Margarita uneasily and turned round as if
looking for a cloak or something else to wear. Her nakedness was beginning
to embarrass her. She got up from the table. In silence Woland picked up his
greasy dressing-gown from the bed and Koroviev threw it over Margarita's
shoulders.
'Thank you, messire,' whispered Margarita with a questioning glance at
Woland. In reply he gave her a polite but apathetic smile. Black depression
at once swelled up in Margarita's heart. She felt herself cheated. No one
appeared to be going to offer her any reward for her services at the ball
and nobody made a move to prevent her going. Yet she realised quite well
that she had nowhere to go. A passing thought that she might have to go back
home brought on an inner convulsion of despair. Dared she ask about the
master, as Azazello had so temptingly suggested in the Alexander Gardens? '
No, never!' she said to herself.
'Goodbye, messire,' she said aloud, thinking : ' If only I can get out
of here, I'll make straight for the river and drown myself! '
'Sit down,' Woland suddenly commanded her. A change came over
Margarita's face and she sat down.
'Perhaps you'd like to say something in farewell? '
'Nothing, messire,' replied Margarita proudly, ' however, if you still
need me I am ready to do anything you wish. I am not at all tired and I
enjoyed the ball. If it had lasted longer I would have been glad to continue
offering my knee to be kissed by thousands more gallows-birds and
murderers.'
Margarita felt she was looking at Woland through a veil; her eyes had
filled with tears.
'Well said! ' boomed Woland in a terrifying voice. ' That was the
right answer! '
'The right answer! ' echoed Woland's retinue in unison. ' We have put
you to the test,' said Woland. ' You should never ask anyone for anything.
Never--and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. They
will make the offer and they will give of their own accord. Sit down, proud
woman! ' Woland pulled the heavy dressing-gown from Margarita's back and she
again found herself sitting beside him on the bed. ' So, Margot,' Woland
went on, his voice softening. ' What do you want for having been my hostess
tonight? What reward do you want for having spent the night naked? What
price do you set on your bruised knee? What damages did you suffer at the
hands of my guests, whom just now you called gallows-birds? Tell me! You can
speak without constraint now, because it was I who made the offer.'
Margarita's heart began to knock, she sighed deeply and tried to think
of something.
'Come now, be brave! ' said Woland encouragingly. ' Use your
imagination! The mere fact of having watched the murder of that worn-out old
rogue of a baron is worth a reward, especially for a woman. Well? '
Margarita caught her breath. She was about to utter her secret wish
when she suddenly turned pale, opened her mouth and stared. ' Frieda! . . .
Frieda, Frieda! ' a sobbing, imploring voice cried in her ear. ' My name is
Frieda! ' and Margarita said, stuttering:
'Can I ask . . . for one thing? '
'Demand, don't ask, madonna mia,' replied Woland with an understanding
smile. ' You may demand one thing.'
With careful emphasis Woland repeated Margarita's own words : ' one
thing '.
Margarita sighed again and said :
'I want them to stop giving Frieda back the handkerchief she used to
stifle her baby.'
The cat looked up at the ceiling and sighed noisily, but said nothing,
obviously remembering the damage done to his ear.
'In view of the fact,' said Woland, smiling,' that the possibility of
your having taken a bribe from that idiot Frieda is, of course, excluded--it
would in any case have been unfitting to your queenly rank--I don't know
what to do. So there only remains one thing--to find yourself some rags and
use them to block up all the cracks in my bedroom.'
'What do you mean, messire? ' said Margarita, puzzled. ' I quite
agree, messire,' interrupted the cat. ' Rags--that's it! ' And the cat
banged its paw on the table in exasperation.
'I was speaking of compassion,' explained Woland, the gaze of his
fiery eye fixed on Margarita. ' Sometimes it creeps in through the narrowest
cracks. That is why I suggested using rags to block them up . . .'
'That's what I meant, too! ' exclaimed the cat, for safety's sake
edging away from Margarita and covering its pointed ears with paws smeared
in pink cream.
'Get out,' Woland said to the cat.
'I haven't had my coffee,' replied Behemoth. ' How can you expect me
to go yet? Surely you don't divide your guests into two grades on a festive
night like this, do you--first-grade and second-grade-fresh, in the words of
that miserable cheeseparing barman? '
'Shut up,' said Woland, then turning to Margarita enquired :
'To judge from everything about you, you seem to be a good person. Am
I right? '
'No,' replied Margarita forcefully. ' I know that I can only be frank
with you and I tell you frankly--I am headstrong. I only asked you about
Frieda because I was rash enough to give her a firm hope. She's waiting,
messire, she believes in my power. And if she's cheated I shall be in a
terrible position. I shall have no peace for the rest of my life. I can't
help it--it just happened.'
'That's quite understandable,' said Woland.
'So will you do it? ' Margarita asked quietly.
'Out of the question,' replied Woland. ' The fact is, my dear queen,
that there has been a slight misunderstanding. Each department must stick to
its own business. I admit that our scope is fairly wide, in fact it is much
wider than a number of very sharp-eyed people imagine . . .'
'Yes, much wider,' said the cat, unable to restrain itself and
obviously proud of its interjections.
'Shut up, damn you! ' said Woland, and he turned and went on to
Margarita. ' But what sense is there, I ask you, in doing something which is
the business of another department, as I call it? So you see I can't do it;
you must do it yourself.'
'But can I do it? '
Azazello squinted at Margarita, gave an imperceptible flick of his red
mop and sneered.
'That's just the trouble--to do it,' murmured Woland. He
had been turning the globe, staring at some detail on it, apparently
absorbed in something else while Margarita had been talking. ' Well, as to
Frieda . . .' Koroviev prompted her. ' Frieda! ' cried Margarita in a
piercing voice. The door burst open and a naked, dishevelled but completely
sober woman with ecstatic eyes ran into the room and stretched out her arms
towards Margarita, who said majestically :
'You are forgiven. You will never be given the handkerchief again.'
Frieda gave a shriek and fell spreadeagled, face downward on the floor
was a translucent violet in colour, the second ruby, the third crystal.
Negroes in scarlet turbans were busy with silver scoops filling shallow
goblets with champagne from the basins. In a gap in the wall of roses was a
man bouncing up and down on a stage in a red swallow-tail coat, conducting
an unbearably loud jazz band. As soon as he saw Margarita he bent down in
front of her until his hands touched the floor, then straightened up and
said in a piercing yell:
'Alleluia!'
He slapped himself once on one knee, then twice on the other, snatched
a cymbal from the hands of a nearby musician and struck it against a pillar.
As she floated away Margarita caught a glimpse of the virtuoso
bandleader, struggling against the polonaise that she could still hear
behind her, hitting the bandsmen on the head with his cymbal while they
crouched in comic terror.
At last they regained the platform where Koroviev had first met
Margarita with the lamp. Now her eyes were blinded with the light streaming
from innumerable bunches of crystal grapes. Margarita stopped and a little
amethyst pillar appeared under her left hand.
'You can rest your hand on it if you find it becomes too tiring,'
whispered Koroviev.
A black-skinned boy put a cushion embroidered with a golden poodle
under Margarita's feet. Obeying the pressure of an invisible hand she bent
her knee and placed her right foot on the cushion.
Margarita glanced around. Koroviev and Azazello were standing in formal
attitudes. Besides Azazello were three young men, who vaguely reminded
Margarita of Abadonna. A cold wind blew in her back. Looking round Margarita
saw that wine was foaming out of the marble wall into a basin made of ice.
She felt something warm and velvety by her left leg. It was Behemoth.
Margarita was standing at the head of a vast carpeted staircase
stretching downwards in front of her. At the bottom, so far away that she
seemed to be looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope, she could
see a vast hall with an absolutely immense fireplace, into whose cold, black
maw one could easily have driven a five-ton lorry. The hall and the
staircase, bathed in painfully bright light, were empty. Then Margarita
heard the sound of distant trumpets. For some minutes they stood motionless.
'Where are the guests? ' Margarita asked Koroviev.
'They will be here at any moment, your majesty. There will be no lack
of them. I confess I'd rather be sawing logs than receiving them here on
this platform.'
'Sawing logs? ' said the garrulous cat. ' I'd rather be a
tram-conductor and there's no job worse than that.'
'Everything must be prepared in advance, your majesty,' explained
Koroviev, his eye glittering behind the broken lens of his monocle. ' There
can be nothing more embarrassing than for the first guest to wait around
uncomfortably, not knowing what to do, while his lawful consort curses him
in a whisper for arriving too early. We cannot allow that at our ball, queen
Margot.'
'I should think not', said the cat.
'Ten seconds to midnight,' said Koroviev, ' it will begin in a
moment.'
Those ten seconds seemed unusually long to Margarita. They had
obviously passed but absolutely nothing seemed to be happening. Then there
was a crash from below in the enormous fireplace and out of it sprang a
gallows with a half-decayed corpse bouncing on its arm. The corpse jerked
itself loose from the rope, fell to the ground and stood up as a dark,
handsome man in tailcoat and lacquered pumps. A small, rotting coffin then
slithered out of the fireplace, its lid flew off and another corpse jumped
out. The handsome man stepped gallantly towards it and offered his bent arm.
The second corpse turned into a nimble little woman in black slippers and
black feathers on her head and then man and woman together hurried up the
staircase.
'The first guests!' exclaimed Koroviev. ' Monsieur Jacques and his
wife. Allow me to introduce to you, your majesty, a most interesting man. A
confirmed forger, a traitor to his country but no mean alchemist. He was
famous,' Koroviev whispered into Margarita's ear, ' for having poisoned the
king's mistress. Not everybody can boast of that, can they? See how
good-looking he is! '
Turning pale and open-mouthed with shock, Margarita looked down and saw
gallows and coffin disappear through a side door in the hall.
'We are delighted! ' the cat roared to Monsieur Jacques as he mounted
the steps.
Just then a headless, armless skeleton appeared in the fireplace below,
fell down and turned into yet another man in a tailcoat. Monsieur Jacques'
wife had by now reached the head of the staircase where she knelt down, pale
with excitement, and kissed Margarita's foot.
'Your majesty . . .' murmured Madame Jacques.
'Her majesty is charmed! ' shouted Koroviev. 'Your majesty . . .' said
Monsieur Jacques in a low voice.
'We are charmed! ' intoned the cat. The young men beside Azazello,
smiling lifeless but welcoming smiles, were showing Monsieur and Madame
Jacques to one side, wlhere they were offered goblets of champagne by the
Negro attendants. The single man in tails came up the staircase at a run.
'Count Robert,' Koroviev whispered to Margarita. ' An equally
interesting character. Rather amusing, your majesty-- the case is reversed:
he was the queen's lover and poisoned his own wife.'
'We are delighted. Count,' cried Behemoth.
One after another three coffins bounced out o.f the fireplace,
splitting and breaking open as they fell, then someone in a black cloak who
was immediately stabbed in the back by the next person to come down the
chimney. There was a muffled shriek. When an almost totally decomposed
corpse emerged from the fireplace, Margarita frowned and a hand, which
seemed to be Natasha's, offered her a flacon of sal volatile.
The staircase began to fill up. Now on almost every step there were men
in tailcoats accompanied by naked women who only differed in the colour of
their shoes and the feathers on their heads.
Margarita noticed a woman with the downcast gaze of a nun hobbling
towards her, thin, shy, hampered by a stsrange wooden boot on her left leg
and a broad green kerchief round her neck.
'Who's that woman in green? ' Margarita enquired.
'A most charming and respectable lady,' whispered Koroviev. ' Let me
introduce you--Signora Toffana. She was extremely popular among the young
and attractive ladies of Naples and Palermo, especially among those who were
tired of their husbands. Women do get bored with their husbands, your
majesty . . .' ' Yes,' replied Margarita dully, smiling to two men in
evening dress who were bowing to kiss her knee and her foot.
'Well,' Koroviev managed to whisper to Margarita as he simultaneously
cried : ' Duke! A glass of champagne? We are charmed! . . . Well, Signora
Toffana sympathised with those poor women and sold them some liquid in a
bladder. The woman poured the liquid into her husband's soup, who ate it,
thanked her for it and felt splendid. However, after a few hours he would
begin to feel a terrible thirst, then lay down on his bed and a day later
another beautiful Neapolitan lady was as free as air.'
'What's that on her leg? ' asked Margarita, without ceasing to offer
her hand to the guests who had overtaken Signora Toffana on the way up. '
And why is she wearing green round her neck? Has she a withered neck? '
'Charmed, Prince!' shouted Koroviev as he whispered to Margarita : '
She has a beautiful neck, but something unpleasant happened to her in
prison. The thing on her leg, your majesty, is a Spanish boot and she wears
a scarf because when her jailers found out that about five hundred
ill-matched husbands had been dispatched from Naples and Palermo for ever,
they strangled Signora Toffana in a rage.'
'How happy I am, your majesty, that I have the great honour . . .'
whispered Signora Toffana in a nun-like voice, trying to fall on one knee
but hindered by the Spanish boot. Koroviev and Behemoth helped Signora
Toffana to rise.
'I am delighted,' Margarita answered her as she gave her hand to the
next arrival.
People were now mounting the staircase in a flood. Margarita ceased to
notice the arrivals in the hall. Mechanically she raised and lowered her
hand, bared her teeth in a smile for each new guest. The landing behind her
was buzzing with voices, and music like the waves of the sea floated out
from the ball-rooms.
'Now this woman is a terrible bore.' Koroviev no longer bothered to
whisper but shouted it aloud, certain that no one could hear his voice over
the hubbub. ' She loves coming to a ball because it gives her a chance to
complain about her handkerchief.'
Among the approaching crowd Margarita's glance picked out the woman at
whom Koroviev was pointing. She was young, about twenty, with a remarkably
beautiful figure but a look of nagging reproach.
'What handkerchief? ' asked Margarita.
'A maid has been assigned to her,' Koroviev explained, ' who for
thirty years has been putting a handkerchief on her bedside table. It is
there every morning when she wakes up. She burns it in the stove or throws
it in the river but every morning it appears again beside her.'
'What handkerchief?' whispered Margarita, continuing to lower and
raise her hand to the guests.
'A handkerchief with a blue border. One day when she was a waitress in
a cafe the owner enticed her into the storeroom and nine months later she
gave birth to a boy, carried him into the woods, stuffed a handkerchief into
his mouth and then buried him. At the trial she said she couldn't afford to
feed the child.'
'And where is the cafe-owner? ' asked Margarita.
'But your majesty,' the cat suddenly growled, ' what has the
cafe-owner got to do with it? It wasn't he who stifled the baby in the
forest, was it? '
Without ceasing to smile and to shake hands with her right hand, she
dug the sharp nails of her left hand into Behemoth's ear and whispered to
the cat:
'If you butt into the conversation once more, you little horror . . .'
Behemoth gave a distinctly unfestive squeak and croaked:
'Your majesty . . . you'll make my ear swell . . . why spoil the ball
with a swollen ear? I was speaking from the legal point of view ... I'll be
quiet, I promise, pretend I'm not a cat, pretend I'm a fish if you like but
please let go of my ear!'
Margarita released his ear.
The woman's grim, importunate eyes looked into Margarita's :
'I am so happy, your majesty, to be invited to the great ball of the
full moon.'
'And I am delighted to see you,' Margarita answered her, ' quite
delighted. Do you like champagne? '
'Hurry up, your majesty! ' hissed Koroviev quietly but desperately. '
You're causing a traffic-jam on the staircase.'
'Yes, I like champagne,' said the woman imploringly, and began to
repeat mechanically: ' Frieda, Frieda, Frieda! My name is Frieda, your
majesty! '
'Today you may get drunk, Frieda, and forget about everything,' said
Margarita.
Frieda stretched out both her arms to Margarita, but Koroviev and
Behemoth deftly took an arm each and whisked her off into the crowd.
By now people were advancing from below like a phalanx bent on
assaulting the landing where Margarita stood. The naked women mounting the
staircase between the tail-coated and white-tied men floated up in a
spectrum of coloured bodies that ranged from white through olive, copper and
coffee to quite black. In hair that was red, black, chestnut or flaxen,
sparks flashed from precious stones. Diamond-studded orders glittered on the
jackets and shirt-fronts of the men. Incessantly Margarita felt the touch of
lips to her knee, incessantly she offered her hand to be kissed, her face
stretched into a rigid mask of welcome.
'Charmed,' Koroviev would monotonously intone, ' We are charmed . . .
her majesty is charmed . . .'
'Her majesty is charmed,' came a nasal echo from Azazello, standing
behind her.
'I am charmed! ' squeaked the cat.
'Madame la marquise,' murmured Koroviev, ' poisoned her father, her
two brothers and two sisters for the sake of an inheritance . . . Her
majesty is delighted, Mme. Minkin! . . . Ah, how pretty she is! A trifle
nervous, though. Why did she have to burn her maid with a pair of
curling-tongs? Of course, in the way she used them it was bound to be fatal
. . . Her majesty is charmed! . . . Look, your majesty--the Emperor Rudolf--
magician and alchemist . . . Another alchemist--he was hanged . . . Ah,
there she is! What a magnificent brothel she used to keep in Strasbourg! . .
. We arc delighted, madame! . . . That woman over there was a Moscow
dressmaker who had the brilliantly funny idea of boring two peep-holes in
the wall of her fitting-room . . .'
'And didn't her lady clients know? enquired Margarita. ' Of course,
they all knew, your majesty,' replied Koroviev. ' Charmed! . . . That young
man over there was a dreamer and an eccentric from childhood. A girl fell in
love with him and he sold her to a brothel-keeper . . .
On and on poured the stream from below. Its source--the huge
fireplace--showed no sign of drying up. An hour passed, then another.
Margarita felt her chain weighing more and more. Something odd was happening
to her hand : she found she could not lift it without wincing. Koroviev's
remarks ceased to interest her. She could no longer distinguish between
slant-eyed Mongol faces, white faces and black faces. They all merged into a
blur and the air between them seemed to be quivering. A sudden sharp pain
like a needle stabbed at Margarita's right hand, and clenching her teeth she
leaned her elbow on the little pedestal. A sound like the rustling of wings
came from the rooms behind her as the horde of guests danced, and Margarita
could feel the massive floors of marble, crystal and mosaic pulsating
rhythmically.
Margarita showed as little interest in the emperor Caius Caligula and
Messalina as she did in the rest of the procession of kings, dukes, knights,
suicides, poisoners, gallows-birds, procuresses, jailers, card-sharpers,
hangmen, informers, traitors, madmen, detectives and seducers. Her head swam
with their names, their faces merged into a great blur and only one face
remained fixed in her memory--Malyuta Skuratov with his fiery beard.
Margarita's legs were buckling and she was afraid that she n^ight burst into
tears at any moment. The worst pain came from her right knee, which all the
guests had kissed. It was swollen, the skin on it had turned blue in spite
of Natasha's constant attention to it with a sponge soaked in fragrant
ointment. By the end of the third hour Margarita glanced wearily down and
saw with a start of joy that the flood of guests was thinning out.
'Every ball is the same, your majesty.' whispered Koroviev, ' at about
this time the arrivals begin to decrease. I promise you that this torture
will not last more than a few minutes longer. Here comes a party of witches
from the Brocken, they're always the last to arrive. Yes, there they are.
And a couple of drunken vampires ... is that all? Oh, no, there's one more .
. . no, two more.'
The last two guests mounted the staircase.
'Now this is someone new,' said Koroviev, peering through his monocle.
' Oh, yes, now I remember. Azazello called on him once and advised him, over
a glass of brandy, how to get rid of a man who was threatening to denounce
him. So he made his friend, who was under an obligation to him, spray the
other man's office walls with poison.'
'What's his name? ' asked Margarita.
'I'm afraid I don't know,' said Koroviev, ' You'd better ask Azazello.
'And who's that with him? '
'That's his friend who did the job. Delighted to welcome you! ' cried
Koroviev to the last two guests.
The staircase was empty, and although the reception committee waited a
little longer to make sure, no one else appeared from the fireplace.
A second later, half-fainting, Margarita found herself beside the pool
again where, bursting into tears from the pain in her arm and leg, she
collapsed to the floo:r. Hella and Natasha comforted her, doused her in
blood and massaged her body until she revived again.
'Once more, queen Margot,' whispered Koroviev. ' You must make the
round of the ballrooms just once more to show our guests that they are not
being neglected.'
Again Margarita floated away from the pool. In place of Johan Strauss'
orchestra the stage behind the wall of tulips had been taken over by a jazz
band of frenetic apes. An enormous gorilla with shaggy sideburns and holding
a trumpet was leaping clumsily up and down as he conducted. Orang-utan
trumpeters sat in the front row, each with a chimpanzee accordionist on his
shoulders. Two baboons with manes like lions' were playing the piano, their
efforts completely drowned by the roaring, squeaking and banging of the
saxophones, violins and drums played by troops of gibbons, mandrils and
marmosets. Innumerable couples circled round the glass floor with amazing
dexterity, a mass of bodies moving lightly and gracefully as one. Live
butterflies fluttered over the dancing horde, flowers drifted down from the
ceiling. The electric light had been turned out, the capitals of the pillars
were now lit by myriads of glow-worms, and will-o'-the-wisps danced through
the air.
Then Margarita found herself by the side of another pool, this time of
vast dimensions and ringed by a colonnade. A gigantic black Neptune was
pouring a broad pink stream from his great mouth. Intoxicating fumes of
champagne rose from the pool. Joy reigned untrammelled. Women, laughing,
handed their bags to their escorts or to the Negroes who ran along the sides
holding towels, and dived shrieking into the pool. Spray rose in showers.
The crystal bottom of the pool glowed with a faint light which shone through
the sparkling wine to light up the silvery bodies of the swimmers, who
climbed out of the pool again completely drunk. Laughter rang out beneath
the pillars until it drowned even the jazz ba.nd.
In all this debauch Margarita distinctly saw one totally drunken
woman's face with eyes that were wild with intoxication yet still
imploring--Frieda.
Margarita's head began to spin with the fumes of the wine and she was
just about to move on when the cat staged one of his tricks in the swimming
pool. Behemoth made a few magic passes in front of Neptune's moiath ;
immediately all the champagne drained out of the pool, an-d Neptune began
spewing forth a stream of brown liquid. Shrieking with delight the women
screamed : ' Brandy! ' In a few seconds the pool was full. Spinning round
three times like a top the cat leaped into the air and dived into the
turbulent sea of brandy. It crawled out, spluttering, its tie soaked, the
gilding gone from its whiskers, and minus its lorgnette. Only one woman
dared follow Behemoth's example --the dressmaker--procuress and her escort,
a handsome young mulatto. They both dived into the brandy, but before she
had time to see any more Margarita was led away by Koroviev.
They seemed to take wing and in their flight Margarita first saw great
stone tanks full of oysters, then a row of hellish furnaces blazing away
beneath the glass floor and attended by a frantic crew of diabolical chefs.
In the confusion she remembered a glimpse of dark caverns lit by candles
where girls were serving meat that sizzled on glowing coals and revellers
drank Margarita's health from vast mugs of beer. Then came polar bears
playing accordions and dancing a Russian dance on a stage, a salamander
doing conjuring tricks unharmed by the flames around it ... And for a second
time Margarita felt her strength beginning to flag.
'The last round,' whispered Koroviev anxiously, ' and then we're
free.'
Escorted by Koroviev, Margarita returned to the ballroom, but now the
dance had stopped and the guests were crowded between the pillars, leaving
an open space in the middle of the room. Margarita could not remember who
helped her up to a platform which appeared in the empty space. When she had
mounted it, to her amazement she heard a bell strike midnight, although by
her reckoning midnight was long past. At the last chime of the invisible
clock silence fell on the crowd of guests.
Then Margarita saw Woland. He approached surrounded by Abadonna,
Azazello and several young men in black resembling Abadonna. She now noticed
another platform beside her own, prepared for Woland. But he did not make
use of it. Margarita was particularly surprised to notice that Woland
appeared at the ball in exactly the same state in which he had been in the
bedroom. The same dirty, patched nightshirt hung from his shoulders and his
feet were in darned bedroom slippers. Woland was armed with his sword but he
leaned on the naked weapon as though it were a walking stick.
Limping, Woland stopped beside his platform. At once Azazello appeared
in front of him bearing a dish. On that dish Margarita saw the severed head
of a man with most of its front teeth missing. There was still absolute
silence, only broken by the distant sound, puzzling in the circumstances, of
a door-bell ringing.
'Mikhail Alexandrovich,' said Woland quietly to the head, at which its
eyelids opened. With a shudder Margarita saw that the eyes in that dead face
were alive, fully conscious and tortured with pain.
'It all came true, didn't it? ' said Woland, staring at the eyes of
the head. ' Your head was cut off by a woman, the meeting didn't take place
and I am living in your flat. That is a fact. And a fact is the most
obdurate thing in the world. But what interests us now is the future, not
the facts of the past. You have always been a fervent proponent of the
theory that when a man's head is cut off his life stops, he turns to dust
and he ceases to exist. I am glad to be able to tell you in front of all my
guests-- despite the fact that their presence here is proof to the contrary
--that your theory is intelligent and sound. Now--one theory deserves
another. Among them there is one which maintains that a man will receive his
deserts in accordance with his beliefs. So be it! You shall depart into the
void and from the goblet into which your skull is about to be transformed I
shall have the pleasure of drinking to life eternal! '
Woland raised his sword. Immediately the skin of the head darkened and
shrank, then fell away in shreds, the eyes disappeared and in a second
Margarita saw on the dish a yellowed skull, with emerald eyes and pearl
teeth, mounted on a golden stand. The top of the skull opened with a hinge.
'In a second, messire,' said Koroviev, noticing Woland's enquiring
glance, ' he will stand before you. I can hear the creak of his shoes and
the tinkle as he puts down the last glass of champagne of his lifetime. Here
he is.'
A new guest, quite alone, entered the ballroom. Outwardly he was no
different from the thousands of other male guests, except in one thing--he
was literally staggering with fright. Blotches glowed on his cheeks and his
eyes were swivelling with alarm. The guest was stunned. Everything that he
saw shocked him, above all the way Woland was dressed.
Yet he was greeted with marked courtesy.
'Ah, my dear Baron Maigel,' Woland said with a welcoming smile to his
guest, whose eyes were starting out of his head. ' I am happy to introduce
to you,' Woland turned towards his guests, ' Baron Maigel, who works for the
Entertainments Commission as a guide to the sights of the capital for
foreign visitors.'
Then Margarita went numb. She recognised this man Maigel. She had
noticed him several times in Moscow theatres and restaurants. ' Has he died
too? ' Margarita wondered. But the matter was soon explained.
'The dear Baron,' Woland continued with a broad smile, ' was charming
enough to ring me up as soon as I arrived in Moscow and to offer me his
expert services as a guide to the sights of the city. Naturally I was happy
to invite him to come and see me.'
Here Margarita noticed that Azazello handed the dish with the skull to
Koroviev.
'By the way. Baron,' said Woland, suddenly lowering his voice
confidentially, ' rumours have been going round that you have an
unquenchable curiosity. This characteristic, people say, together with your
no less developed conversational gifts, has begun to attract general
attention. What is more, evil tongues have let slip the words "
eavesdropper" and " spy." What is more, there is a suggestion that this may
bring you to an unhappy end in less than a month from now. So in order to
save you from the agonising suspense of waiting, we have decided to come to
your help, making use of the fact that you invited yourself to see me with
the aim of spying and eavesdropping as much as you could.'
The Baron turned paler than the pallid Abadonna and then something
terrible happened. Abadonna stepped in front of the Baron and for a second
took off his spectacles. At that moment there was a flash and a crack from
Azazello's hand and the Baron staggered, crimson blood spurting from his
chest and drenching his starched shirtfront and waistcoat. Koroviev placed
the skull under the pulsating stream of blood and when the goblet was full
handed it to Woland. The Baron's lifeless body had meanwhile crumpled to the
floor.
'Your health, ladies and gentlemen,' said Woland and raised the goblet
to his lips.
An instant metamorphosis took place. The nightshirt and darned slippers
vanished. Woland was wearing a black gown with a sword at his hip. He strode
over to Margarita, offered her the goblet and said in a commanding voice :
'Drink!'
Margarita felt dizzy, but the cup was already at her lips and a voice
was whispering in her ears :
'Don't be afraid, your majesty . . . don't be afraid, your majesty,
the blood has long since drained away into the earth and grapes have grown
on the spot.'
Her eyes shut, Margarita took a sip and the sweet juice ran through her
veins, her ears rang. She was deafened by cocks crowing, a distant band
played a march. The crowd of guests faded--the tailcoated men and the women
withered to dust and before her eyes the bodies began to rot, the stench of
the tomb filled the air. The columns dissolved, the lights went out, the
fountains dried up and vanished with the camellias and the tulips. All that
remained was what had been there before : poor Berlioz's drawing-room, with
a shaft of light falling through its half-open door. Margarita opened it
wide and went in.
Everything in Woland's bedroom was as it had been before the ball.
Woland was sitting in his nightshirt on the bed, only this time Hella was
not rubbing his knee, and a meal was laid on the table in place of the
chessboard. Koroviev and Azazello had removed their tailcoats and were
sitting at table, alongside them the cat, who still refused to be parted
from his bow-tie even though it was by now reduced to a grubby shred.
Tottering, Margarita walked up to the table and leaned on it. Woland
beckoned her, as before, to sit beside him on the bed. ' Well, was it very
exhausting? ' enquired Woland. ' Oh no, messire,' replied Margarita in a
scarcely audible voice. ' Noblesse oblige,' remarked the cat, pouring out a
glassful of clear liquid for Margarita.
'Is that vodka? ' Margarita asked weakly. The cat jumped up from its
chair in indignation. ' Excuse me, your majesty,' he squeaked, ' do you
think I would give vodka to a lady? That is pure spirit!' Margarita smiled
and tried to push away the glass. ' Drink it up,' said Woland and Margarita
at once picked up the glass.
'Sit down, Hella,' ordered Woland, and explained to Margarita : ' The
night of the full moon is a night of celebration, and I dine in the company
of my close friends and my servants. Well, how do you feel? How did you find
that exhausting ball? '
'Shattering! ' quavered Koroviev. ' They were all charmed, they all
fell in love with her, they were all crushed! Such tact, such savoir-faire,
such fascination, such charm! '
Woland silently raised his glass and clinked it with Margarita's. She
drank obediently, expecting the spirit to knock her out. It had no ill
effect, however. The reviving warmth flowed through her body, she felt a
mild shock in the back of her neck, her strength returned as if she had just
woken from a long refreshing sleep and she felt ravenously hungry.
Remembering that she had not eaten since the morning of the day before, her
hunger increased and she began wolfing down caviar.
Behemoth cut himself a slice of pineapple, salted and peppered it, ate
it and chased it down with a second glass of spirit with a flourish that
earned a round of applause.
After Margarita's second glassful the light in the candelabra burned
brighter and the coals in the fireplace glowed hotter, yet she did not feel
the least drunk. As her white teeth bit into the meat Margarita savoured the
delicious juice that poured from it and watched Behemoth smearing an oyster
with mustard.
'If I were you I should put a grape on top of it, too,' said Hella,
digging the cat in the ribs.
'Kindly don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs,' Behemoth replied.
' I know how to behave at table, so mind your own business.'
'Oh, how nice it is to dine like this, at home,' tinkled Koro-viev's
voice, ' just among friends . . .'
'No, Faggot,' said the cat. ' I like the ball--it's so grand and
exciting.'
'It's not in the least exciting and not very grand either, and those
idiotic bears and the tigers in the bar--they nearly gave me migraine with
their roaring,' said Woland.
'Of course, messire,' said the cat. ' If you think it wasn't very
grand, I immediately find myself agreeing with you.'
'And so I should think,' replied Woland.
'I was joking,' said the cat meekly ' and as for those tigers, I'll
have them roasted.'
'You can't eat tiger-meat' said Hella.
'Think so? Well, let me tell you a story,' retorted the cat. Screwing
up its eyes with pleasure it told a story of how it had once spent nineteen
days wandering in the desert and its only food had been the meat of a tiger
it had killed. They all listened with fascination and when Behemoth came to
the end of his story they all chorussed in unison :
'Liar! '
'The most interesting thing about that farrago,' said Woland, ' was
that it was a lie from first to last.'
'Oh, you think so, do you? ' exclaimed the cat and everybody thought
that it was about to protest again, but it only said quietly : ' History
will be my judge.'
'Tell me,' revived by the vodka Margot turned to Azazello :
'did you shoot that ex-baron? '
'Of course,' replied Azazello,' why not? He needed shooting.'
'I had such a shock! ' exclaimed Margarita, ' it happened so
unexpectedly! '
'There was nothing unexpected about it,' Azazello objected, and
Koroviev whined :
'Of course she was shocked. Why, even I was shaking in my shoes! Bang!
Crash! Down went the baron! '
'I nearly had hysterics,' added the cat, licking a caviar-smeared
spoon.
'But there's something I can't understand,' said Margarita, her eyes
sparkling with curiosity. ' Couldn't the music and general noise of the ball
be heard outside? '
'Of course not, your majesty,' said Koroviev. ' We saw to that. These
things must be done discreetly.'
'Yes, I see ... but what about that man on the staircase when Azazello
and I came up ... and the other one at the foot of the staircase? I had the
impression that they were keeping watch on your flat.'
'You're right, you're right,' cried Koroviev,' you're right, my dear
Margarita Nikolayevna! You have confirmed my suspicions. Yes, he was
watching our flat. For a while I thought he was some absent-minded professor
or a lover mooning about on the staircase. But no! I had an uncomfortable
feeling he might be watching the flat. And there was another one at the
bottom of the stairs too? And the one at the main entrance-- did he look the
same? ' ' Suppose they come and arrest you? ' asked Margarita.
'Oh, they'll come all right, fairest one, they'll come!' answered
Koroviev. ' I feel it in my bones. Not now, of course, but they'll come when
they're ready. But I don't think they'll have much luck.'
'Oh, what a shock I had when the Baron fell! ' said Margarita,
obviously still feeling the effects of seeing her first murder. ' I suppose
you're a good shot? '
'Fair,' answered Azazello.
'At how many paces? '
'As many as you like,' replied Azazello. ' It's one thing to hit
Latunsky's windows with a hammer, but it's quite another to hit him in the
heart.'
'In the heart! ' exclaimed Margarita, clutching her own heart. ' In
the heart! ' she repeated grimly.
'What's this about Latunsky? ' enquired Woland, frowning at Margarita.
Azazello, Koroviev and Behemoth looked down in embarrassment and
Margarita replied, blushing :
'He's a critic. I wrecked his flat this evening.'
'Did you now! Why?'
'Because, messire,' Margarita explained, ' he destroyed a certain
master.'
'But why did you put yourself to such trouble?' asked Woland.
'Let me do it, messire!' cried the cat joyfully, jumping to its feet.
'You sit down,' growled Azazello, rising. ' I'll go at once.'
'No!' cried Margarita. ' No, I beg you, messire, you mustn't!'
'As you wish, as you wish,' replied Woland. Azazello sat down again.
'Where were we, precious queen Margot?' said Koroviev. ' Ah yes, his
heart... He can hit a man's heart all right,' Koroviev pointed a long
.finger at Azazello. ' Anywhere you like. Just name the auricle--or the
ventricle.'
For a moment Margarita did not grasp the implication of this, then she
exclaimed in amazement:
'But they're inside the body--you can't see them! '
'My dear,' burbled Koroviev, ' that's the whole point--you can't see
them! That's the joke! Any fool can hit something you can see!'
Koroviev took the seven of spades out of a box, showed it to Margarita
and asked her to point at one of the pips. Margarita chose the one in the
upper right-hand corner. Hella hid the card under a pillow and shouted :
'Ready!'
Azazello, who was sitting with his back to the pillow, took a black
automatic out of his trouser pocket, aimed the muzzle over his shoulder and,
without turning round towards the bed, fired, giving Margarita an enjoyable
shock. The seven of spades was removed from under the pillow. The upper
right-hand pip was shot through.
'I wouldn't like to meet you when you've got a revolver,' said
Margarita with a coquettish look at Azazello. She had a passion for people
who did things well.
'My precious queen,' squeaked Koroviev,' I don't recommend anybody to
meet him even without his revolver! I give you my word of honour as an
ex-choirmaster that anybody who did would regret it.'
During the trial of marksmanship the cat had sat scowling. Suddenly it
announced:
'I bet I can shoot better than that.'
Azazello snorted, but Behemoth was insistent and demanded not one but
two revolvers. Azazello drew another pistol from his left hip pocket and
with a sarcastic grin handed them both to the cat. Two pips on the card were
selected. The cat took a long time to prepare, then turned its back on the
cushion. Margarita sat down with her fingers in her ears and stared at the
owl dozing on the mantelpiece. Behemoth fired from both revolvers, at which
there came a yelp from Hella, the owl fell dead from the mantelpiece and the
clock stopped from a bullet in its vitals. Hella, one finger bleeding, sank
her nails into the cat's fur. Behemoth in retaliation clawed at her hair and
the pair of them rolled on the floor in a struggling heap. A glass fell off
the table and broke.
'Somebody pull this she-devil off me! ' wailed the cat, lashing out at
Hella who had thrown the animal on its back and was sitting astride it. The
combatants were separated and Koroviev healed Hella's wounded finger by
blowing on it.
'I can't shoot properly when people are whispering about me behind my
back! ' shouted Behemoth, trying to stick back into place a large handful of
fur that had been torn off his back.
'I bet you,' said Woland with a smile at Margarita, ' that he did that
on purpose. He can shoot perfectly well.'
Hella and the cat made friends again and sealed their reconciliation
with a kiss. Someone removed the card from under the cushion and examined
it. Not a single pip, except the one shot through by Azazello had been
touched.
'I don't believe it,' said the cat, staring through the hole in the
card at the light of the candelabra.
Supper went gaily on. The candles began to gutter, a warm dry heat
suffused the room from the fireplace. Having eaten her fill, a feeling of
well-being came over Margarita. She watched as Azazello blew smoke-rings at
the fireplace and the cat spiked them on the end of his sword. She felt no
desire to go, although by her timing it was late--probably, she thought,
about six o'clock in the morning. During a pause Margarita turned to Woland
and said timidly :
'Excuse me, but it's time for me to go ... it's getting late . . .' '
Where are you going in such a hurry?' enquired Woland politely but a little
coldly. The others said nothing, pretending to be watching the game with the
smoke-rings.
'Yes, it's time,' said Margarita uneasily and turned round as if
looking for a cloak or something else to wear. Her nakedness was beginning
to embarrass her. She got up from the table. In silence Woland picked up his
greasy dressing-gown from the bed and Koroviev threw it over Margarita's
shoulders.
'Thank you, messire,' whispered Margarita with a questioning glance at
Woland. In reply he gave her a polite but apathetic smile. Black depression
at once swelled up in Margarita's heart. She felt herself cheated. No one
appeared to be going to offer her any reward for her services at the ball
and nobody made a move to prevent her going. Yet she realised quite well
that she had nowhere to go. A passing thought that she might have to go back
home brought on an inner convulsion of despair. Dared she ask about the
master, as Azazello had so temptingly suggested in the Alexander Gardens? '
No, never!' she said to herself.
'Goodbye, messire,' she said aloud, thinking : ' If only I can get out
of here, I'll make straight for the river and drown myself! '
'Sit down,' Woland suddenly commanded her. A change came over
Margarita's face and she sat down.
'Perhaps you'd like to say something in farewell? '
'Nothing, messire,' replied Margarita proudly, ' however, if you still
need me I am ready to do anything you wish. I am not at all tired and I
enjoyed the ball. If it had lasted longer I would have been glad to continue
offering my knee to be kissed by thousands more gallows-birds and
murderers.'
Margarita felt she was looking at Woland through a veil; her eyes had
filled with tears.
'Well said! ' boomed Woland in a terrifying voice. ' That was the
right answer! '
'The right answer! ' echoed Woland's retinue in unison. ' We have put
you to the test,' said Woland. ' You should never ask anyone for anything.
Never--and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. They
will make the offer and they will give of their own accord. Sit down, proud
woman! ' Woland pulled the heavy dressing-gown from Margarita's back and she
again found herself sitting beside him on the bed. ' So, Margot,' Woland
went on, his voice softening. ' What do you want for having been my hostess
tonight? What reward do you want for having spent the night naked? What
price do you set on your bruised knee? What damages did you suffer at the
hands of my guests, whom just now you called gallows-birds? Tell me! You can
speak without constraint now, because it was I who made the offer.'
Margarita's heart began to knock, she sighed deeply and tried to think
of something.
'Come now, be brave! ' said Woland encouragingly. ' Use your
imagination! The mere fact of having watched the murder of that worn-out old
rogue of a baron is worth a reward, especially for a woman. Well? '
Margarita caught her breath. She was about to utter her secret wish
when she suddenly turned pale, opened her mouth and stared. ' Frieda! . . .
Frieda, Frieda! ' a sobbing, imploring voice cried in her ear. ' My name is
Frieda! ' and Margarita said, stuttering:
'Can I ask . . . for one thing? '
'Demand, don't ask, madonna mia,' replied Woland with an understanding
smile. ' You may demand one thing.'
With careful emphasis Woland repeated Margarita's own words : ' one
thing '.
Margarita sighed again and said :
'I want them to stop giving Frieda back the handkerchief she used to
stifle her baby.'
The cat looked up at the ceiling and sighed noisily, but said nothing,
obviously remembering the damage done to his ear.
'In view of the fact,' said Woland, smiling,' that the possibility of
your having taken a bribe from that idiot Frieda is, of course, excluded--it
would in any case have been unfitting to your queenly rank--I don't know
what to do. So there only remains one thing--to find yourself some rags and
use them to block up all the cracks in my bedroom.'
'What do you mean, messire? ' said Margarita, puzzled. ' I quite
agree, messire,' interrupted the cat. ' Rags--that's it! ' And the cat
banged its paw on the table in exasperation.
'I was speaking of compassion,' explained Woland, the gaze of his
fiery eye fixed on Margarita. ' Sometimes it creeps in through the narrowest
cracks. That is why I suggested using rags to block them up . . .'
'That's what I meant, too! ' exclaimed the cat, for safety's sake
edging away from Margarita and covering its pointed ears with paws smeared
in pink cream.
'Get out,' Woland said to the cat.
'I haven't had my coffee,' replied Behemoth. ' How can you expect me
to go yet? Surely you don't divide your guests into two grades on a festive
night like this, do you--first-grade and second-grade-fresh, in the words of
that miserable cheeseparing barman? '
'Shut up,' said Woland, then turning to Margarita enquired :
'To judge from everything about you, you seem to be a good person. Am
I right? '
'No,' replied Margarita forcefully. ' I know that I can only be frank
with you and I tell you frankly--I am headstrong. I only asked you about
Frieda because I was rash enough to give her a firm hope. She's waiting,
messire, she believes in my power. And if she's cheated I shall be in a
terrible position. I shall have no peace for the rest of my life. I can't
help it--it just happened.'
'That's quite understandable,' said Woland.
'So will you do it? ' Margarita asked quietly.
'Out of the question,' replied Woland. ' The fact is, my dear queen,
that there has been a slight misunderstanding. Each department must stick to
its own business. I admit that our scope is fairly wide, in fact it is much
wider than a number of very sharp-eyed people imagine . . .'
'Yes, much wider,' said the cat, unable to restrain itself and
obviously proud of its interjections.
'Shut up, damn you! ' said Woland, and he turned and went on to
Margarita. ' But what sense is there, I ask you, in doing something which is
the business of another department, as I call it? So you see I can't do it;
you must do it yourself.'
'But can I do it? '
Azazello squinted at Margarita, gave an imperceptible flick of his red
mop and sneered.
'That's just the trouble--to do it,' murmured Woland. He
had been turning the globe, staring at some detail on it, apparently
absorbed in something else while Margarita had been talking. ' Well, as to
Frieda . . .' Koroviev prompted her. ' Frieda! ' cried Margarita in a
piercing voice. The door burst open and a naked, dishevelled but completely
sober woman with ecstatic eyes ran into the room and stretched out her arms
towards Margarita, who said majestically :
'You are forgiven. You will never be given the handkerchief again.'
Frieda gave a shriek and fell spreadeagled, face downward on the floor