‘What are you raving about, what visit?’
‘To a very distinguished foreigner,’ the redhead said significantly, narrowing one eye.
Margarita became very angry.
‘A new breed has appeared — a street pander!’ she said, getting up to leave.
‘Thanks a lot for such errands!’ the redhead exclaimed grudgingly, and he muttered ‘Fool!’ to Margarita Nikolaevna’s back.
‘Scoundrel!’ she replied, turning, and straight away heard the redhead’s voice behind her:
The darkness that came from the Mediterranean Sea covered the city hated by the procurator. The hanging bridges connecting the temple with the dread Antonia Tower disappeared ... Yershalaim — the great city — vanished as if it had never existed in the world ... So you, too, can just vanish away along with your burnt notebook and dried-up rose! Sit here on the bench alone and entreat him to set you free, to let you breathe the air, to go from your memory!‘
Her face white, Margarita came back to the bench. The redhead was looking at her, narrowing his eyes.
‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Margarita began quietly. ‘It’s possible to find out about the pages ... get in, snoop around ... You bribed Natasha, right? But how could you find out my thoughts?’ She scowled painfully and added: ‘Tell me, who are you? From which institution?’
‘What a bore ...’ the redhead muttered and then said aloud, ‘I beg your pardon, didn’t I tell you that I’m not from any institution? Sit down, please.’
Margarita obeyed unquestioningly, but even so, as she was sitting down, she asked once more:
‘Who are you?’
‘Well, all right, my name is Azazello, but anyhow that tells you nothing.’
‘And you won’t tell me how you found out about the pages and about my thoughts?’
‘No, I won’t,‘ Azazello replied drily.
‘But do you know anything about him?’ Margarita whispered imploringly.
‘Well, suppose I do.’
‘I implore you, tell me only one thing ... is he alive? ... Don’t torment me!’
‘Well, he’s alive, he’s alive,’ Azazello responded reluctantly.
‘Oh, God! ... ’
‘Please, no excitements and exclamations,’ Azazello said, frowning.
‘Forgive me, forgive me,’ the now obedient Margarita murmured, ‘of course, I got angry with you. But, you must agree, when a woman is invited in the street to pay a visit somewhere ... I have no prejudices, I assure you,’ Margarita smiled joylessly, ‘but I never see any foreigners, I have no wish to associate with them ... and, besides, my husband ... my drama is that I’m living with someone I don’t love ... but I consider it an unworthy thing to spoil his life ... I’ve never seen anything but kindness from him ...’
Azazello heard out this incoherent speech with visible boredom and said sternly:
‘I beg you to be silent for a moment.’
Margarita obediently fell silent.
‘The foreigner to whom I’m inviting you is not dangerous at all. And not a single soul will know of this visit. That I can guarantee you.’
‘And what does he need me for?’ Margarita asked insinuatingly.
‘You’ll find that out later.’
‘I understand ... I must give myself to him,’ Margarita said pensively.
To which Azazello grunted somehow haughtily and replied thus:
‘Any woman in the world, I can assure you, would dream of just that,’ Azazello’s mug twisted with a little laugh, ‘but I must disappoint you, it won’t happen.’
‘What kind of foreigner is that?!’ Margarita exclaimed in bewilderment, so loudly that people passing by turned to look at her. ‘And what interest do I have in going to him?’
Azazello leaned towards her and whispered meaningfully:
‘Well, a very great interest ... you’d better use the opportunity ...’
‘What?’ exclaimed Margarita, and her eyes grew round. ‘If I understand you rightly, you’re hinting that I may find out about him there?’
Azazello silently nodded.
‘I’ll go!’ Margarita exclaimed with force and seized Azazello by the hand. ‘I’ll go wherever you like!’
Azazello, with a sigh of relief, leaned against the back of the bench, covering up the name ‘Niura’ carved on it in big letters, and saying ironically:
‘Difficult folk, these women!’ he put his hands in his pockets and stretched his legs way out. ‘Why, for instance, was I sent on this business? Behemoth should have gone, he’s a charmer...’
Margarita said, with a crooked and bitter smile:
