Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen Margaret

Follow me, dear reader!Who told you that there is no faithful and eternal true love in this world?Whoever tells such a lie should have his rotten tongue cut off! My readers, come with me, you just follow me, I will let you experience this kind of love! wrong!The master was wrong.In the hospital after midnight that day the master had told Ivan sadly that she had forgotten him.That was his mistake.It can't happen.Of course she hadn't forgotten him. First of all, let's reveal the secret that the master is unwilling to reveal to Ivan: the name of the master's sweetheart is Margaret Nikolaevna.Everything the master told the poor poet about her was true.His description is exact.She is indeed both beautiful and intelligent.And I should add that Margarita Nikolaevna is leading a life which we can safely say that many women would have given any price for if they could.Marguerite was thirty years old, childless, and her husband was a great man of science, who had made great contributions of national importance, and who was young, handsome, kind-hearted, sincere, and very fond of her.The couple lived in a detached courtyard, occupying the entire upper floor of a beautiful two-story building.The small building is located in a small garden in an alley near Arbat Avenue.What an amazing residence!One has only to look at the little garden to be sure of this.Anyone who wants to go, please tell me, I can tell him the address and the bus route - the small building is still intact.

Margarita Nikolaevna had nothing to worry about in terms of expenses.No matter what, as long as she likes it, she can buy it.Her husband had many friends, many of whom were notable.Margaret never went near the stove, nor did she experience the many annoyances of sharing a flat with other people.In short, she...is she happy?No, she never had a single minute of happiness!Since she got married and entered this small building when she was a teenager, she has never tasted happiness.O gods, my gods!What exactly does this woman need?What else does this woman with inexplicable sparks flashing in her eyes all the time need?What more does this alluring woman with one eye squinting slightly, who adorned herself with acacia flowers in Chunda that year, need?I don't know, don't know.It seemed that she was telling the truth at the time: what she needed was him, a master, not a gothic mansion, an exclusive garden, or money at all.She loved him, and she meant it.Even I, an outsider telling this true story, felt a twinge of pain at the thought of the pain Marguerite felt when she came down to the basement the next morning to find the master missing.Fortunately, her husband didn't come back as scheduled that day, so she hadn't had time to tell him everything.

She had tried her best to find out his whereabouts, but, of course, she had found nothing.So she had no choice but to go back home and continue to live in this small building. "Yes! Yes! I made the same mistake!" In winter, Marguerite sat by the fireplace, looking at the blazing fire, and said to herself, "Why did I leave him that night? Why? What a stunner! I promised him I would go to him the next day, and I kept my promise, and I went, but it was too late! Yes, I went too late, like that unfortunate Levi Matthew Already!" Of course, her self-blame is unreasonable.Even if she had stayed with the master that night, how could the situation have been different?Could she save him? "Ridiculous!"—we might answer this question aloud.However, in the face of a weak woman on the verge of despair, we can't say these two words.

Margarita Nikolaevna survived the severe winter and survived the spring in such torments.Friday, the day when the magician appeared in Moscow and all sorts of absurdities happened, when Berlioz's uncle was driven back to Kyiv, the director of theater accounting, Rastochkin, was arrested, and many other incomprehensible strange phenomena occurred That day, Margaret slept until noon in her bedroom with a small glass drying booth opening onto the tower. After waking up, Margaret did not cry as usual, because when she woke up this time, she had a premonition: something was finally going to happen today.As soon as this premonition arose, she secretly warmed it up in her heart, allowing it to grow, lest it run away again.

"I believe!" murmured Marguerite solemnly, "I believe! Something must happen! Impossible not to happen, indeed, why should I be doomed to a life of misery? I confess, I said I have lied, I have lied, I have lived in secret from people, but I should not have been punished so harshly for this. Something must happen, because nothing can last forever. Besides, That dream I had was an omen, for sure!" Margarita Nikolaevna looked at the sun-lit curtains, muttered to herself, hurriedly dressed, sat down in front of the three-way mirror, and combed her short curly hair. Her dream last night was indeed unusual.All through the bitter winter she never dreamed of the Master.He just made her miss painfully during the day, and disappeared from her mind every night.However, last night he actually appeared in her dream.

Margaret dreamed of a strange place—there was no hope, no life, and the sky was gloomy in early spring.She dreamed of a rapidly moving gray sky in patches, a flock of rooks gliding soundlessly through the air, a crooked little bridge over a murky creek that only had water in spring, a few trees on the bank Most of them are still bare, looking so bleak, bleak, and bitter.There is a white poplar standing alone, looking very lonely.From a distance, across a vegetable garden, there is a log cabin vaguely among the trees, which looks like a separate kitchen, or a bathroom, or who knows what kind of house it is.Everything around was decayed and lifeless, making one wish to hang himself on the poplar tree beside the bridge.There was no wind, the dark clouds were motionless, and there was no one in sight.For a living person, this place is nothing less than hell!

But suddenly, the door of the log hut flew open, and he appeared at the door.It was quite far away, but it was clearly him.He was dressed in shabby clothes that could not be seen, his hair was disheveled, his beard was unshaven, and his sick eyes were disturbed.He waved to her, calling her over.Margaret hurriedly stepped on the mounds and ran towards him.She felt suffocated in the dead air, and then—she woke up. Margarita Nikolaevna thought to herself: "There can only be two interpretations of this dream: if he is no longer alive and calls me, then he is coming to fetch me, and I am dying. Well, the pain is over at last. Or if he is still alive, then this dream is to remind me of his existence! He is trying to say by this: We will meet again. Yes, we will meet soon."

Margaret, who had been in a state of excitement, dressed and continued to assert herself.She thought: In fact, everything will be arranged very well, and she just needs to be good at seizing this favorable opportunity and making the best use of it.My husband is away on a business trip and won't be back until three days later.During these three whole days and nights, she was completely her own, she could think whatever she liked, fantasize as much as she liked, and no one would disturb her.Meanwhile, the entire five rooms on the upper floor of the small building, this entire set of houses that could arouse the envy of countless people in Moscow, were completely at her disposal.

However, Margaret, who was completely free for three whole days, chose a place in this luxurious house that was far from the best—after drinking her morning tea, she went to a dark room without windows. , there are some suitcases there, and two large cupboards for storing all kinds of old things.She squatted down, opened the bottom drawer of the first cabinet, and pulled out the only precious thing in her life from under a pile of old silk clothes.Margaret held it in her hand.It was an old brown album with a photograph of the Master, an account in his name, a bankbook of ten thousand rubles, a few dry rose petals sandwiched between two cigarette papers, and There is a part of an exercise book, with about a dozen pages, each page is densely typed, and the lower part of the paper has some burnt marks.

Margarita Nikolaevna returned to her bedroom with these treasures, put the master's photograph on the frame of the three-way mirror, and sat down in front of it.She put the exercise book that had been damaged by the fire on her lap, and sat there for about an hour, flipping through it over and over again, and recited the novel that had no head or tail after the fire: "... the darkness from the Mediterranean has completely enveloped the city hated by the Doge. The flying bridges between the sanctuary and the majestic tower of St. Anthony have disappeared, and a dark abyss has descended from the sky, turning the Hippodrome The two-winged angels on the top of the surrounding columns, the Hasmoni Palace with gun holes on the wall, the bazaar, rows of sheds, streets and alleys, ponds, etc. have all been swallowed up...the great city of Jerusalem has disappeared trace, as if it had never existed in the world..."

Margaret tried to read on, but there was nothing underneath, only squiggly edges of burnt paper. Margaret put the exercise book aside, leaned her elbows on the dressing mirror, faced the figure in the mirror, stared at the picture on the frame, and kept wiping away her tears.She sat for a long time.Later, when the tears dried up, she carefully rearranged her wealth again.A few minutes later they were buried under the pile of silk again.Then, the door lock of the small black room locked again with a "click". Marguerite was putting on her coat in the front hall and was about to go for a walk. Her maid, the beautiful Natasha, came over and asked the hostess what to do for the second course.The hostess let her arrange as she pleased.After receiving this order, Natasha began to chat with the hostess, because she felt that there was something really happy.God knows what she said to the hostess, as if she told her: Yesterday a magician performed some very novel magic tricks in the theater, which was very interesting. The magician also gave each audience two bottles of imported perfume and A pair of stockings.But what about Houmi, when the show is over and the audience walks out of the theater, hey, look--all the women are naked!Margarita Nikolaevna laughed so hard that she collapsed on a chair in front of the looking-glass.She smiled and said: "Natasha, thanks for being able to speak, you are not shy! You are also a literate girl, and you are quite smart. You should know that those old women queuing up to buy things can make up all kinds of nonsense. But you still Come back and tell me!" Natasha blushed and eagerly explained to the hostess: People are not lying at all, she saw it with her own eyes today in the pastry shop on Arbat Street-a woman entered the pastry shop with leather shoes, but she was in the pastry shop. When paying at the cashier, a pair of leather shoes suddenly disappeared, and he stood there wearing only a pair of silk stockings.Her eyes are wide open!There is also a big hole in the heel of the sock.The pair of shoes she wore turned out to be magic shoes from the theater for nothing. "Is that how she left?" "Why don't we just leave like that!" Natasha said loudly, her face flushed even more when she saw that the hostess still didn't believe her words, "Also, Margaret Nikolaevna, last night the police About a hundred people were detained. Because after the theater there were women running around in Tverskaya Street in only their drawers." "Well, of course it was Darya again," said Margarita Nikolaevna. "I've long seen that woman is the best at talking nonsense." The hilarious conversation ended with two surprise gifts for Natasha.Margarita Nikolaevna went back to her bedroom, and immediately brought out a pair of silk stockings and a bottle of perfume, saying that she, too, wanted to perform a magic trick, and would also give Natasha a bottle of perfume and a pair of silk stockings, but, Just one thing for her: don't just run around in Tverskaya Street in silk stockings, and stop believing Dalia's nonsense.The master and servant kissed passionately a few times before parting. Margarita Nikolaevna's trolleybus travels along the Arbat Merchant.She leaned on the soft and comfortable seat, sometimes thinking about her own thoughts, and sometimes listening to the whispered conversation of the two men sitting in front. The two men were discussing something strange in a low voice, and looked back from time to time as if they were afraid that others would overhear.Among them, sitting by the window was a fat, big-eared, strong man with a pair of clever piggy-like eyes. He was whispering to the skinny man beside him: Later, the whole coffin had to be covered with a black sheet①... … ①According to Russian customs, the coffin is not covered after encoffining until before burial, and the head of the deceased is exposed outside.It is said here that it is abnormal to cover the whole coffin with a black sheet. "How is that possible?" whispered the thin man in surprise. "I've never heard of such a thing. . . So what did Zederbin do?" Through the uniform sound of the trolleybus, only the strong man by the window said: "Please ask the criminal investigation agency to investigate...the world is turned upside down...well, this thing is really amazing!" From the few words she had heard, Margaret finally deduced something coherent: they were talking about a dead man (they didn't name the dead man), whose head was taken out of the coffin this morning. stole it!That's why that Zelderbin is now very anxious.These two people also seem to have some relationship with the deceased whose head was stolen. "Can we still have time to buy flowers?" The skinny man asked worriedly, "You said the cremation is at two o'clock?" Marguerite finally got tired of hearing the mysterious nonsense about the head being stolen from the coffin, but fortunately she had already arrived at the station and it was time to get off. A few minutes later Margarita Nikolaevna was sitting on a bench under the Kremlin wall, where she just had a view of the stud field. ① This is the relatively quiet Alexandrov Park. The sun was so strong that Margaret squinted her eyes.She thought back to the dream of last night, and then to the past—for a whole year, she and he sat side by side on this bench at the same moment every day.Now, as before, her small black handbag rests on the chair beside her.Although he was not around today, Margaret still talked to him silently in her heart: "If you are sentenced to exile, why can't you give me some news? Can't other exiles also communicate? Is it that you don't love me? No, I can't believe it somehow. Or you died there when you arrived in exile... If that's the case, I beg you to let me go and set me free Live and breathe freely." Margaret replied to herself instead of him: "You are free now... Am I controlling you?" Then she refuted him: "You shouldn't say that! What kind of answer is that?" ! No, you have to be removed from my memory before I can be free." Pedestrians passed Margarita Nikolaevna.A man glanced at the elegantly dressed woman, obviously moved by her beauty and loneliness - he coughed lightly and sat down at the other end of the bench where Margaret was sitting , then mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation and said: "Today is going to be a fine day, yes..." But Margaret gave him a cold look, and he immediately lifted his ass and walked away. "Look, this is an example," Margaret said to the person who occupied her body and mind again in her heart, "Actually, why should I drive that man away just now? I'm lonely, and this sex hunter looks so good What's wrong? Is it just because he used such a vulgar word 'yes'? Besides, why should I be alone at the foot of this wall like an owl at this moment? Why am I excluded from life ?” She sank into utter sorrow, and lowered her head lower and lower.At this time, the anticipation and excitement of the morning rushed to her heart again: "Yes, something must happen!" When the second time came, she found that it was made of the sound. : The sound of drums and trumpets that are a little out of tune can be heard more and more clearly through the hustle and bustle of the city, and they are getting closer. The first thing she saw was a policeman on a horse, walking slowly, followed by three policemen on foot - they were walking along the road outside the park fence wall.Immediately after that was a large truck that was driving very slowly, with a band on it, and behind the band was a brand-new Yunling gondola. The coffin in the middle of the platform of the gondola was covered with wreaths, and on the platform, the four corners of the coffin , there are four people holding the rope, three men and one woman.Although they were quite far away, Margaret could clearly see the strange expressions of the bearers—all of them were distracted, especially the expression of the woman in the left back corner.Her already fat face seemed to be puffed out from the inside by some kind of mysterious anecdote, and there were unpredictable sparks in her two small eyes.It seemed that she couldn't hold it any longer, and she was about to wink at the deceased, pouted, and say to you: "Have you ever seen such a thing? It's like a fairy tale!" Following the hearse, she walked slowly to the funeral There were about three hundred people, and all of them had the same bewildered look on their faces. Margaret watched the funeral procession and listened to the feeble, monotonous drumming of the Turkish drum.The sound of the drum gradually faded away and gradually calmed down.She thought to herself: "These mourners are really strange! ... The sound of 'boom, dong' is also disturbing! ... Oh! Really, if only I could know whether he is still alive, let me pledge my soul for it Willing to the devil! Oh, it's annoying! . . . But it's interesting, who are these strange-looking people mourning for?" "For Berlioz, for the funeral of Mikhail Alexandrovich," Margarita suddenly heard a man's voice with a nasal voice beside her, "he is the chairman of the 'Mo Wenlian'." Margaret couldn't help being startled, she turned around and saw a man sitting beside her.The man had apparently slipped into the pew while Margaret was fascinated by the funeral procession, and, presumably, she had inadvertently uttered the last question on her mind. At this time, the funeral procession stopped slowly, probably because they encountered a red light ahead. "No," the strange man continued, "the expressions of these people are really weird. Everyone is carrying the deceased for the funeral, but everyone is wondering where his head is?" "What head?" Margaret asked, looking at the person who suddenly appeared beside her.He is not tall, with brown-red hair, wearing a bowler hat, a tusk protruding from the corner of his mouth, a starched shirt, a suit of high-quality striped material, shiny patent leather shoes on his feet, and a very bright tie.Strangely enough, in the small jacket pocket where men usually put a small handkerchief or a fountain pen, this man inserted a gnawed chicken thigh bone. "Well, you see," explained the red-haired man, "the dead man's head was stolen from the coffin this morning in the hall of Griboyedov's house." "How is this possible?" Margaret couldn't help asking, remembering the whispers she heard in the trolleybus just now. "Damn knows how!" said the red-haired man casually. "But, by the way, I think you might as well ask the hippo about it. That thief is so quick! Oh, it's a real thing." The sky is turned upside down! Moreover, the main reason is that I don’t understand, that thing, that head, who wants it? What do you want it for?!” In spite of Margarita Nikolaevna's thoughts, she could not help being shocked by the stranger's nonsense.Suddenly, she asked loudly: "Excuse me, which Berlioz were you talking about? It was in today's paper..." "That goes without saying, that goes without saying..." "So, those who followed the car to the funeral were all people from the literary world?" Margaret asked, gnashing her teeth suddenly. "Well, that's right, it's those people!" "Then do you recognize them?" "Knows them all," replied the redhead. "Well, please," said Margaret, her voice hoarse, "is there a critic Latunsky among them now?" "How could there be no him?" The red-haired man replied, "No, that's the one on the side in the fourth row." "The one with the fair hair?" Marguerite asked, squinting her eyes. "Light gray... see, he's looking up at the sky." "Like a priest?" "Yep!" Margaret asked no more questions, but fixed her eyes on Latunsky. "According to my observation, you seem to hate this Latunsky very much." The red-haired man asked with a smile. "I don't hate him alone," Margaret squeezed out a few words, "but it's no fun talking about it." At this time, the funeral procession moved on again.The walkers were followed by many cars, mostly empty. "No, Margarita Nikolaevna, it's really boring!" "You know me?" Marguerite asked in surprise. The red-haired man made no answer, but took off his yarmulke, stretched it aside, and bowed his head a little. Marguerite stared at this casual interlocutor, thinking to herself: "This man is quite the face of a robber!" Then she said coldly: "But I don't know you." "How do you know me! But I have something to ask you for sending me today." Marguerite stepped back involuntarily, turned pale, and said: "Then you should have said straight away, why talk about a severed head! Are you going to arrest me?" "Absolutely nothing!" exclaimed the red-haired man. "Arrests after a few conversations? What's that like! I just wanted to ask you something." "I don't understand at all. What's the matter?" The man with brown-red hair looked around and said mysteriously: "I was sent to invite you to be a guest tonight." "What are you talking about in your sleep? What are you doing?" "It's a visit to a very distinguished foreigner," said the red-haired man, narrowing his eyes meaningfully. Margaret was furious, and Huo Di stood up to leave, saying casually: "Hmph, there's a new kind of business: pimping on the street!" "Thank you so much for your praise!" The red-haired man felt insulted, so he raised his voice, and said to the back of the departing Margaret, "Silly woman!" "Despicable and shameless!" Margaret turned around and replied.But she was going away when she heard the redhead's voice behind her say: "Darkness from the Mediterranean has completely enveloped the city, hated by the Governor. The few flying bridges between the Temple and the majestic tower of St. Anthony are gone... the great city of Jerusalem is gone. , as if it had never existed in the world... Well, to hell with you! To hell with your charred notebook and dried rose petals! You sit alone on this bench Ask him to let you go, ask him to let you breathe freely, ask him to leave your memory!" Marguerite, pale, returned to the bench.The reddish-haired man squinted at her. "I don't understand at all," said Margaret Nikolaevna, in a voice so soft that she could hardly hear it, "that you can find out about the origin... you can sneak into my The room, you can take a peek... Natasha was bought by you, right? But, how would you know what I was thinking?" She frowned in pain and asked: "Tell me, what are you People? Which agency is it?" "Oh, how boring!" the red-haired man muttered, and then said loudly: "Excuse me, didn't I tell you that I am not a member of any institution! Sit down first, please!" Margaret obediently obeyed, but asked again when she sat down: "Then who are you?" "Well, then, my name is Azazelle. But my name doesn't mean anything to you either." "Can you tell me how you came to know about the manuscripts and my thoughts?" "I can't tell you." Azazeller said coldly. "Then you know about him?" Marguerite asked in a low voice, imploringly. "Well, let's just understand." "Then I beg you, just tell me one thing: Is he still alive? Please don't torture me." "Well, alive, alive." Azazeller replied as if helplessly. "my God!" "Please don't get excited and don't shout," said Azazeller, frowning. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Marguerite, who had become docile, "of course I was really angry with you just now. Just think about how it would be if you suddenly invited a woman somewhere in the street. . . . ...But please believe me, it's not that I'm prejudiced," she smiled wryly, "but I've never met a foreigner, and I don't want to deal with foreigners at all... Besides, my husband... My tragedy is that I live with a person I don't love. However, I don't think I should destroy his life. He has done good things for me, and he has never done anything wrong to me..." Azazeller looked very impatient when he heard these incoherent words, and he said seriously: "Please be silent for a moment." Marguerite was so obedient that she said no more. "The foreigner whom I invite you to see will not put you at any risk. Besides, no living person will know of your visit. I can assure you of that." "What use am I to him?" Margaret inquired tactfully. "You will know that later." "I see... I must treat him personally," said Margaret thoughtfully. Azazeller scoffed at this sentence.He snorted haughtily, and replied: "Please believe that this is something that any woman in the world would probably wish for." Azazeller smiled contemptuously again, his expression becoming very ugly, "However, I assure you, there will never be such a thing!" "What kind of a foreigner is he?!" Margaret was even more flustered, and couldn't help shouting loudly, causing passers-by to look back at her. "Besides, what's the point of me going to him?" Azazeller leaned over and whispered meaningfully in her ear: "Oh, it means so much...you can take this opportunity..." "What?" Margaret asked loudly, her eyes widened. "If I understand correctly, you are implying that I can learn about him there?" Azazeller just nodded and said nothing. "I'll go!" cried Marguerite firmly and firmly, grabbing Azazelle's arm, "I'll go, anywhere!" Azazeller breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back on the bench back, covering a girl's name "Yara" engraved on the back of the chair.He said sarcastically: "You women, it's hard work!" he said, putting his hands in his pockets and stretching his legs far away. "Oh, why do I have to do this kind of work? You might as well have a hippopotamus, he charming……" Marguerite forced a pitiful smile and said: "Please don't play charades, don't torture me with mysteries... You know, I am unfortunate enough, but you are taking advantage of others. I know that I am involved in a strange incident, but, I swear to you, this is just Because you mentioned him just now, your inexplicable words made me dizzy..." "Don't be sad, don't be sad..." Azazeller said with a different expression, "You have to put yourself in my place and think about it. Slap the General Affairs Assistant, or kick someone's uncle out of the house, or secretly It's my business to shoot at a quasi-shot and do little things like that, but I can't do anything to talk to a woman in love. No, I've spent half an hour trying to convince you .So you agree to go?" "I'll go." Margaret replied simply and clearly. "Then, please accept this thing first." Azazelle took out a small round gold box from his pocket, handed it to Marguerite, and continued: "Please hide it quickly, Otherwise it will be seen by passers-by. This locket will be of use to you, Margarita Nikolaevna. You have been suffering too much for six months, and you look much older. (The words made Margarita turn pale, but she Didn't say anything. So Azazelle went on.) Tonight, at half-past nine, I have to undress you completely, and then please use the oil in this box to rub your face and your whole body. Finish it After that, you can do whatever you want, just don't leave the phone. I'll call you at ten o'clock sharp and I'll tell you everything I need to say. You don't have to worry about anything, you'll be taken where you want to go , will never disturb you in any way. Do you understand?" Marguerite was silent for a moment, then replied: "I see. From the weight of this locket, you can tell that it is pure gold. Well, well, I know that this is buying me and leading me into a dirty business, and I will pay for it." paid a heavy price." "What did you say?" Azazeller's tone was almost complaining, "What are you doing again?..." "No, wait a minute!" "Give me back the box of grease." Marguerite gripped the locket more tightly, and said again: "No, wait a minute . . . I know what I'm on. But I'd give everything for him, because I don't have anything else in this world. But I must say to you: If you use this to bury me, then you are too shameful! Yes, shameful! I died for love!" Margaret thumped her chest as she spoke, and raised her head to look at the sun. "Give it back to me," said Azazeller in a hoarse voice, "give it back to me! To hell with all this! Let them send the hippopotamus." "Oh, no!" cried Marguerite, startling the passers-by again, "I agree to nothing! I agree to a greased farce, to the ends of the earth. I will pay you back." !" "Hey!" Azazeller suddenly yelled, staring at the fence in the park and pointing somewhere. Marguerite turned in the direction Azazeller pointed, but saw nothing surprising.She turned around and was about to ask Azazeller why she said "Hey!" inexplicably, but no one explained to her, and the mysterious person she was talking to disappeared all day long.Marguerite put her hand hastily into the little handbag in which she had just hidden the little round box before the cry.She was relieved, the little round box was still in the handbag.So, without thinking about anything else, Margaret hurriedly left Alexandrov Park.