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Margarita got furious.
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" A new breed has appeared: street pimps, " she said, getting up to leave.
" That's the thanks I get for taking on assignments like this! " exclaimed the redhead, taking offense, and as Margarita turned to leave, he growled after her, " Fool! "
" Scoundrel! " she retorted, and as she turned, she heard the redhead's voice behind her, " 'The darkness that had come in from the Mediterranean covered the city so detested by the procurator. The hanging bridges which connected the temple with the fearsome Antonia Tower had disappeared... Yershalaim—the great city—vanished as if it had never existed...' And you can vanish too, along with your charred manuscript and your dried rose! Sit here on the bench alone, and beg him to set you free so you can breathe and be allowed to forget him! "
Margarita's face blanched, and she turned back to the bench. The redhead looked at her with tightly narrowed eyes.
" I don't understand any of this, " said Margarita Nikolayevna softly. " You could have found out about the burnt pages... broken into my house and spied on me... Did you pay off Natasha, is that it? But how could you know my thoughts? " She wrinkled her brow, looking agonized, and added, " Tell me, who are you? What department are you from? "
Margarita 193
" What a bore this is, " grumbled the redhead and said in a louder voice, " Excuse me, but I already told you I'm not from any department! Please, sit down."
Margarita obeyed without a fuss, but as she sat down, she asked again, " Who are you? "
" Well, if you must know, my name is Azazello, but that won't mean anything to you anyway."
" But won't you tell me how you knew about those pages and about my thoughts? "
" No, I won't, " was Azazello's dry reply.
" But do you know anything about him? " whispered Margarita imploringly.
" Well, let's say I do."
" I beg you, just tell me one thing, is he alive? Don't torment me."
" Yes, he's alive, he's alive, " Azazello replied unwillingly.
" My God! "
" Please, no fits and no screams, " said Azazello with a frown.
" I'm sorry, forgive me, " mumbled the now-compliant Margarita. " It's true, I got angry at you. You will admit, though, that when someone on the street invites a woman to go somewhere... I'm not prejudiced, I assure you, " Margarita let out a mirthless laugh, " but I never see any foreigners, I have no desire to socialize with them... and besides, my husband... My tragedy is that I live with someone I don't love, but it would be ignoble of me to ruin his life. He's never shown me anything but kindness..."
Azazello listened to her disconnected speech with obvious boredom and said sternly, " Please be quiet for a minute."
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