"Ah, my dear Baron Maigel," said Woland with an affable smile as he turned to his guest, whose eyes were popping out of his head. "I am delighted to present to you," said Woland to his guests, "the highly esteemed Baron Maigel, a member of the Theatrical Commission whose job is to acquaint foreigners with the sights of the capital."
Here Margarita froze because she suddenly realized who Maigel was.
234 The Master and Margarita
He had crossed her path several times in the theaters and restaurants of Moscow. "Wait a minute..." thought Margarita, "does that mean that he's dead, too?" But the matter was soon clarified.
"The kind baron," continued Woland with a joyous smile, "was charming enough to call me as soon as he learned of my arrival in Moscow and offer me his specialized services, that is, as a guide to the sights of the city. It goes without saying that I was happy to invite him for a visit."
Just then Margarita saw Azazello hand Korovyov the dish with the skull-shaped goblet.
"By the way, Baron," said Woland, suddenly lowering his voice and speaking chattily, "rumors are circulating regarding your extraordinary inquisitiveness. They say that this, matched with your no less developed talkativeness, has begun to attract general attention. Moreover, spiteful tongues have dropped the words 'informer,' and 'spy.' And, in addition, there is an assumption that this will lead you to a sorry end in less than a month. And so, to save you the bother of a tiresome wait, we have decided to come to your aid and to take advantage of the fact that you wangled yourself an invitation here with the express purpose of eavesdropping and spying on everything you could."
The baron became even paler than Abaddon, who was exceptionally pale by nature, and then something strange happened. Abaddon appeared before the baron and took his glasses off for just a second. At the same moment something flashed like fire in Azazello's hands, and there was a soft noise, like a hand clap, and the baron started to fall backwards, as scarlet blood spurted from his chest and soaked his starched shirt and vest. Korovyov held the goblet under the pulsing stream, and when it was full, he gave it to Woland. By that time the baron's lifeless body was already on the floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I drink to your health," said Woland softly, and raising the goblet, he touched it to his lips.
Then a metamorphosis ensued. The tattered slippers and patched nightshirt disappeared. Woland was now wearing a long, black robe with a steel saber on his hip. He walked quickly over to Margarita, raised the goblet to her lips, and in a commanding voice said, "Drink!"
Margarita's head began to spin, she swayed, but the goblet was already at her lips, and voices, whose she could not tell, whispered in both her ears, "Don't be afraid, Your Majesty... Don't be afraid, Your Majesty, the blood has already seeped down into the earth. And there where it spilled, clusters of grapes are already growing."
Margarita took a swallow without opening her eyes, and a sweet current ran through her veins, and there was a ringing in her ears. It seemed to her that deafening roosters were crowing, that somewhere a march was playing. The crowds of guests began to lose their appearance. The women and the men in tails dissolved into dust. Decay engulfed the ballroom before Margarita's very eyes, a cryptlike smell flowed over it.
Satan's Grand Ball 235
The columns dissolved, the lights went out, everything shriveled and shrank until there were no fountains, tulips, or camellias. All that was left was what had been there before—the modest living room of the jeweller's wife, and a stream of light coming through the half-opened door. And Margarita walked through this half-opened door.
XXIV
The Liberation of the Master
I |
N Woland's bedroom everything was as it had been before the ball. Woland was sitting in his nightshirt on the bed, only Hella was no longer massaging his leg, but setting the table, where earlier they had been playing chess, for supper. Korovyov and Azazello had taken off their tailcoats and were sitting at the table; nestled in next to them was, naturally, the cat, who didn't want to part with his tie even though by now it was an utterly grubby rag. Swaying on her feet, Margarita walked over to the table and leaned on it. Then, as he had before, Woland beckoned to her to sit down beside him.
"Well, now, did they wear you out completely?" asked Woland.
"Oh, no, Messire," answered Margarita, but barely audibly.
"Noblesse oblige, " remarked the cat, and he poured Margarita some transparent liquid into an ornate small glass.
"Is that vodka?" asked Margarita weakly.
The cat took offense and jumped up on his chair.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," he whined, "but how could I offer vodka to a lady? It's pure spirits!"
Margarita smiled and made an effort to move the glass away.
"Drink up, don't be afraid," said Woland, and Margarita picked up the glass. "Hella, sit down," ordered Woland, as he explained to Margarita, "The night of the full moon is a festive occasion and I have supper in the company of my intimate associates and servants. And so, how do you feel? How did that wearisome ball go?"
"Stupendously!" crackled Korovyov. "Everyone was enchanted, enamored, overwhelmed! By her tact, her finesse, her appeal, her charm!"
Woland silently raised his glass and clinked it with Margarita's. Margarita drank up obediently, thinking that the spirits would be the end of her. But nothing had happened. An enlivening warmth spread through her stomach, there was a soft thump at the nape of her neck, and her strength returned as if she had just awakened from a long, refreshing sleep, and in addition, she felt as hungry as a wolf. Her hunger intensi-
The Liberation of the Master 237
fied when she recalled that she had not eaten anything since the previous morning. She started to devour the caviar greedily.
Behemoth cut off'a slice of pineapple, salted and peppered it, ate it, and then downed a second glass of spirits with such dash that everyone broke into applause.
After Margarita's second glass of spirits, the candles in the candelabra burned brighter and the flames in the fireplace grew.
Margarita did not feel the least bit drunk. Sinking her white teeth into some meat, she savored its succulent juices as she watched Behemoth spread mustard on an oyster.
"You ought to put some grapes on top ofthat," said Hella softly, poking the cat in the side.
"Please don't lecture me," replied Behemoth. "I'm an experienced diner, don't worry, very experienced!"
"Ah, how nice it is to have supper like this, around the fireplace, without any fuss, an intimate group, as it were..." twanged Korovyov.
"I disagree, Fagot," retorted the cat, "A ball has a charm and a sweep all its own."
"It has neither sweep nor charm," said Woland, "and those idiotic bears, and those tigers roaring in the bar nearly gave me a migraine."
"All right, Messire," said the cat, "if it is your opinion that there is no sweep, then I shall immediately subscribe to it."
"Watch your step!" was Woland's reply.
"I was only joking," said the cat meekly, "and as for the tigers, I'll see that they're roasted."
"You can't eat tigers," said Hella.
"Is that what you think?" retorted the cat. "Then let me tell you a little story..." Narrowing his eyes with pleasure, he told a story about the time when he was wandering in the desert for nineteen days, and the only nourishment he had was the meat from a tiger he had killed. Everyone listened to his absorbing narrative with interest, and when Behemoth finished, they all exclaimed in chorus, "All lies!"
"And the most interesting thing about this fabrication," said Woland, "is that it was all lies from start to finish."
"Is that what you think? That I'm lying?" exclaimed the cat, and everyone thought that he would go on to protest, but instead, he said softly, "History will be the judge."
"Tell me," said Margarita, who had revived after the vodka, addressing Azazello, "Did you really shoot him, that former baron?"
"Of course I did," answered Azazello. "How could I not shoot him? He absolutely had to be shot."
"I got so upset!" exclaimed Margarita. "It happened so unexpectedly."
"There was nothing unexpected about it," retorted Azazello, but Korovyov began wailing and moaning, "How could one not get upset? I myself was shaken to the core! Crash! Bang! Over falls the baron!"
238 The Master and Margarita
"I was practically hysterical," put in the cat, licking a spoonful of caviar.
"But what I don't understand is," said Margarita and gold sparks from the crystal flickered in her eyes, "wouldn't the music and the noise from the ball be audible from outside?"
"Of course not, Your Majesty," explained Korovyov. "It has to be done so that it isn't. It has to be done as carefully as possible."
"Of course, of course. But what about that man on the stairs... When Azazello and I were coming in... And the other one at the entrance-way... I think he was watching your apartment..."
"You're rightl You're right!" shouted Korovyov. "You're right, dear Margarita Nikolayevnal You've confirmed my suspicions! Yes, he was watching our apartmentl At first I thought he might have been an ab-sentminded professor or a lovesick beau mooning on the staircase. But no, nol Something didn't feel right to me! Aha! So he was watching our apartment! And the one at the entranceway too! And same for the one by the gate!"
"Won't it be interesting if they do come and arrest you?" asked Margarita.
"They'll come all right, enchanting Queen, they'll come!" replied Korovyov. "I feel it in my bones. Not now, of course, but in their good time they're sure to come. But I don't imagine they'll find anything interesting."
"Oh, how upset I was when that baron fell," said Margarita, evidently still feeling the aftereffects of the first murder she had ever witnessed. "You're probably a very good shot?"
"Not bad," answered Azazello.
"At what distance?" Margarita asked Azazello rather strangely.
"It depends what I'm shooting at," answered Azazello reasonably. "It's one thing to hit the critic Latunsky's window with a hammer, and quite another to hit him in the heart"
"The heart!" exclaimed Margarita, clutching her own for some reason. "The heart!" she repeated in a hollow voice.
"What's this about a critic named Latunsky?" asked Woland, squinting at Margarita.
Azazello, Korovyov, and Behemoth looked down in seeming embarrassment, and Margarita answered with a blush, "There's a certain critic by that name. This evening I demolished his entire apartment."
"What do you know! But why?"
"He, Messire," explained Margarita, "ruined a certain Master."
"But why did you go to all that trouble yourself?" asked Woland.
"Permit me, Messire," cried the cat joyously, and jumping up.
"You stay put," muttered Azazello, standing up. "I'll go over there right now..."
"No!" exclaimed Margarita. "No, Messire, I beg you, it's not necessary!"
The Liberation of the Master 239
"As you wish, as you wish," replied Woland, and Azazello resumed his place.
"So where did we leave off, precious Queen Margot?" said Korovyov. "Ah, yes, the heart. He can hit the heart" Korovyov pointed his long finger at Azazello. "To order, any auricle or any of the ventricles."
Margarita did not grasp the meaning of this immediately, but once she had understood, she exclaimed in amazement, "But they're hidden from view!"
"Dear lady," twanged Korovyov, "that's the point, that they're hidden! That's the whole point! Anyone can hit a visible target!"
Korovyov took a seven of spades out of the desk drawer, offered it to Margarita, and asked her to mark one of the pips with her finger nail. She marked the one in the upper right-hand corner. Hella hid the card under the pillow and yelled, "Ready!"
Azazello, who was sitting with his back to the pillow, pulled a black automatic pistol out of the pocket of his dress trousers, laid the muzzle on his shoulder, and fired without turning to face the bed, thereby giving Margarita a jolt of pleasant fear. The card was removed from the bullet-pierced pillow. It had been hit where Margarita had marked it.
"I wouldn't want to run into you when you've got a gun in your hands," said Margarita, looking coquettishly at Azazello. She had a passion for anyone who could do anything really well.
"Precious Queen," squeaked Korovyov. "Running into him isn't a good idea even when he doesn't have a gun! I give you my word of honor as a former choirmaster and precentor that a meeting with him is unwelcome under any circumstances."
The cat, who had been sitting with a frown on his face during the shooting demonstration, suddenly declared, "I'm going to try to outdo him with the seven card."
Azazello hooted something in reply. But the cat was stubborn and asked for not one, but two guns. Azazello pulled another gun out of his other back trouser pocket and wearing a disdainful smirk, offered both of them to the braggart. They marked two pips on the seven card. The cat made lengthy preparations after turning his back to the pillow. Margarita sat with her fingers in her ears and looked at the owl dozing on the mantelpiece. The cat shot off both guns, whereupon Hella let out a shriek, the dead owl fell off the mantel, and the shattered clock stopped. Hella, one of whose hands was bloodied, howled and dug her nails into the cat's fur, and he responded by grabbing her hair with his claws. They started rolling around the floor in a tangled heap. A goblet fell off the table and smashed to bits.
"Get this crazed she-devil off me!" wailed the cat, as he tried to fight off Hella, who was sitting on his back. The combatants were separated, Korovyov blew on Hella's wounded finger, and it was healed.
"I can't shoot when people are distracting me by talking!" cried
240 The Master and Margarita
Behemoth, trying to reattach a large clump of fur that had been torn off his back.
"I bet," said Woland, smiling at Margarita, "that he missed on purpose. He's a good shot."
Hella and the cat made up, and as a token of their reconciliation, they kissed. The card was retrieved from under the pillow and checked. No pip had been touched except the one Azazello shot.
"That's not possible," maintained the cat, peering at the candelabrum through the hole in the card.
The merry supper continued. The candles burned down in the candelabra, and the dry, fragrant warmth coming from the fireplace spread through the room in waves. After eating her fill, Margarita was overcome by a feeling of bliss. She watched the bluish-gray smoke rings from Azazello's cigar float into the fireplace, and the cat try to catch them on the end of his saber. She had no desire to go anywhere, although according to her calculations it was already very late. Everything considered, it seemed to be approaching sue in the morning. Taking advantage of the pause, Margarita turned to Woland and said timidly, "I should probably go... It's late."
"Where are you rushing off to?" queried Woland politely, albeit dryly. The others kept their silence, pretending to be entranced by the smoke rings.
"Yes, it's time to go," repeated Margarita, who was somewhat disconcerted by their response, and she turned as if in search of a cape or something to put on. Her nakedness had suddenly begun to embarrass her. She got up from the table. Woland quietly removed his soiled and threadbare robe from the bed, and Korovyov threw it over Margarita's shoulders.
"Thank you, Messire," said Margarita in barely audible tones, and she gave Woland a questioning look. He responded with a polite and noncommittal smile. Black anguish immediately threatened to engulf Margarita's heart. She felt cheated. No one, it seemed, had any intention of rewarding her for her services at the ball, nor did they wish to stop her from leaving. And yet it was perfectly obvious to her that she no longer had any place to go. A fleeting thought that she might have to go back to her house sent a jolt of despair through her. Should she ask for something for herself, as Azazello had so temptingly suggested in the Alexandrovsky Park? "No, not for anything," she said to herself.
"All the best to you, Messire," she said aloud, all the while thinking, "If I can just get out of here, I'll go down to the river and drown myself."
"Do sit down," came Woland's sudden command.
A change came over Margarita's face, and she sat down.
"Perhaps you wish to say something before you go?"
"No, nothing, Messire," replied Margarita proudly. "Except, of course, that if you still have need of me, I'm happy to be of service. I'm
The Liberation o/ the Master 241
not in the least bit tired and I thoroughly enjoyed myself at the ball. So much so that if it had lasted longer, I would have been glad to let thousands more murderers and gallows birds kiss my knee." Her eyes filling with tears, Margarita looked at Woland, as through a veil.
"Bravo! You're absolutely right!" said Woland in a fearsome, booming voice. "That's the way!"
"That's the way!" echoed Woland's retinue.
"We've been testing you," Woland continued. "Never ask for anything! Not ever, not for anything, especially from someone who's more powerful than you are. They will offer and grant everything themselves. Sit down, proud woman." Woland tore the heavy robe from Margarita's shoulders, and again she found herself sitting next to him on the bed. "And so, Margot," continued Woland, softening his voice, "what would you like in return for having served as my hostess today? What do you wish for having gone naked at the ball? What value do you put on your knee? What damages did you incur from my guests, whom you just referred to as gallows birds? Speak! And do so without constraint since it is I who have made the offer."
Margarita's heart began to pound, she heaved a sigh and started to collect her thoughts.
"Come now, show more courage!" prompted Woland. "Arouse your imagination, give it free reign! Just witnessing the murder ofthat inveterate scoundrel of a baron should earn someone a reward, especially if that someone is—a woman. Well?"
Margarita's breath caught in her throat, and just as she was about to say the cherished words she had prepared in her soul, she suddenly turned pale, her mouth opened, and her eyes bulged. "Frieda! Frieda! Frieda!" cried an insistent, beseeching voice in her ears. "My name is Frieda!" And Margarita, stumbling over her words, began speaking, "So that means then... that I can ask... for one thing?"
"Demand, demand, my Donna," replied Woland with an understanding smile. "Demand one thing!"
Oh, how adroitly and precisely did Woland emphasize—"one thing!" in repeating Margarita's words.
Margarita sighed again and said, "I want them to stop giving Frieda the handkerchief she used to smother her baby."
The cat raised his eyes skyward and sighed noisily, but said nothing, evidently recalling how his ear had been tweaked at the ball.
"Ruling out the possibility," Woland grinned, "that you've taken a bribe from that fool Frieda—which would not be in keeping with your queenly dignity—I really don't know what to do. I suppose there is one thing-get hold of some rags and plug up all the cracks in my bedroom!"
"What are you talking about, Messire?" asked Margarita, perplexed by these truly baffling words.
"I agree with you completely, Messire," interjected the cat, "rags are
242 The Master and Margarita
just what you need." And with that he pounded his paw on the table in irritation.
"I'm talking about mercy," said Woland, explaining his words, his fiery eye still fixed on Margarita. "Sometimes it unexpectedly and insidiously slips through the narrowest of cracks. That's why I mentioned the rags."
"And that's what I was talking about tool" exclaimed the cat, and just to be safe, he turned away from Margarita and covered his pointed ears with paws smeared in pink cream.
"Get out of here," Woland said to him.
"I haven't had my coffee yet," replied the cat, "so how can I leave? Surely, Messire, on a holiday night like this you're not dividing your dinner guests into two categories are you? Some—of first grade, and others of second grade freshness, as that pathetic cheapskate of a bar manager would say?"
"Be quiet," ordered Woland, and turning to Margarita, he asked, "Are you, everything considered, an exceptionally kind person? Highly moral?"
"No," replied Margarita forcefully. "I know one has no choice but to be frank with you, and I'll tell you frankly: I'm a thoughtless person. I asked you on Frieda's behalf only because I was careless enough to give her real hope. She's waiting, Messire, she believes in my power. And if her hope is betrayed, I'll be in an awful position. I'll have no peace for the rest of my life. It can't be helped! It just happened that way."
"Oh," said Woland. "that's understandable."
"So will you do it?" asked Margarita softly.
"No, never," answered Woland. The fact is, dear Queen, there's been a slight mix-up here. Each department should concern itself with its own business. I don't dispute that our resources are quite extensive, much more extensive, in fact, than certain not very discerning people suppose..."
"Yes, much more extensive," chimed in the cat, unable to restrain himself, evidently priding himself on these resources.
"Be quiet, the devil take youl" said Woland, and continued, turning to Margarita, "But really, what sense is there in doing what is supposed to be the business of another, as I put it, department? And so, I will not do it, but you shall."
"Do I really have the power?"
Azazello gave Margarita an ironical sidelong glance and snorted with an imperceptible shake of his red head.
"So do it then, this is torture," muttered Woland. He gave his globe a turn and began focusing on some detail there, evidently preoccupied with another matter during his conversation with Margarita.
"Well, say Frieda," prompted Korovyov.
"Frieda!" came Margarita's piercing cry.
The Liberation of the Master 243
The door flew open, and a dishevelled, naked woman with frenzied eyes, but no longer showing any signs of intoxication, burst into the room and stretched out her hands to Margarita, who said majestically, "You are forgiven. You will not be given the handkerchief anymore."
Frieda let out a wail, fell prostrate on the floor, stretched out like a cross in front of Margarita. Woland waved his hand, and Frieda vanished from sight
Thank you, and farewell," said Margarita, and got up to go.
"Well, Behemoth," began Woland, "let's not take advantage of an unpractical person's folly on a holiday night," he turned to Margarita, "And so, that didn't count because after all, I did nothing. What do you want for yourself?"
Silence ensued, and it was broken by Korovyov, who whispered in Margarita's ear, "My diamond Donna, I advise you to be a little more sensible this time! Otherwise, good fortune may pass you byl"
"I want, this very instant, right now, to have my lover, the Master, returned to me," said Margarita, and a spasm contorted her face.
At this point a wind tore into the room with such force that the candles in the candelabra almost blew out, the heavy curtain on the window moved aside, and the window flew open, revealing high up in the distance a full moon, but a midnight moon rather than a morning one. A greenuh square of a nocturnal light fell from the windowsill onto the floor, and in it appeared Ivan's night visitor, who called himself the Master. He was in his hospital clothes—a robe, slippers, and the little black cap he never parted with. His unshaven face twitched in a grimace, he looked askance with crazy-fearful eyes at the light from the candles, and a flood of moonlight seethed around him.
Margarita recognized him immediately, she let out a moan, clasped her hands and ran to him. She kissed his forehead, his lips, pressed her face against his prickly cheek, and long pent-up tears streamed freely down her face. She uttered only one word, senselessly repeating it over and over, "You... you... you..."
The Master pushed her away and said in a hollow voice, "Don't cry, Margot, don't torment me. I'm seriously ill." He grabbed hold of the windowsill, as if intending to jump up on it and run, stared, baring his teeth at the seated company, and began to shout, "I'm frightened, Margot! I've started having hallucinations again..."
Sobs stifled Margarita, and she whispered, choking on her words, "No, no, no... don't be afraid of anything... I'm with you... I'm with you..."
Deftly and unobtrusively, Korovyov pushed a chair over to the Master, who sat down on it, and Margarita fell on her knees, pressing herself against the sick man's side and thus grew calm. In all her excitement she had not noticed that her nakedness was suddenly gone and she was now wearing a black silk cloak. The sick man lowered his head and began staring at the floor with sick, sullen eyes.
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