The Master and Margarita. that a hundred times over

that a hundred times over. And another thing: don't ignore anyone! Give a litde smile if you don't have time for a word. Even the tiniest nod of your head will do. Anything you wish, but not indifference. That causes them to wither..."

Accompanied by Korovyov and Behemoth, Margarita stepped out of the room with the pool into total darkness.

" I'll do it, I'll do it, " whispered the cat. " I'll give the signal! "

" Do it! " Korovyov replied in the darkness.

" Let the ball begin! " yelled the cat shrilly, and Margarita at once let out a scream and shut her eyes for several seconds. The ball descended upon her immediately as light combined with sound and smell. Carried along on Korovyov's arm, Margarita found herself in a tropical forest. Red-breasted, green-tailed parrots clung to liana vines, hopping all about, and shouting deafeningly, " Delighted to see you! " But the forest came to an abrupt end, and its bathhouse humidity was replaced by the coolness of a ballroom with columns made of a sparkling, yellowish stone. The ballroom, like the forest, was completely empty, except for naked negroes in silver headbands, standing motionlessly by the columns. Their faces flushed dark-red with excitement when Margarita flew in with her retinue, which now included Azazello, who had materialized from somewhere. Here Korovyov let go of Margarita's arm and whispered, " Go straight to the tulips! "

A low wall of white tulips rose up in front of Margarita, and beyond it she saw countless shaded lamps and in front of them the white chests and black shoulders of men in formal dress. Then Margarita realized where the ball music was coming from. A blast of trumpets crashed down on her, and from beneath it a surge of violins broke loose and washed over her body like blood. An orchestra of some one hundred and fifty men was playing a polonaise.

The man in tails on the podium, towering above the orchestra, took one look at Margarita, turned pale, smiled, and with a sudden wave of his hand made the orchestra rise to its feet. Without ceasing to play for an instant, the orchestra, now standing, immersed Margarita in sound. The man towering above the orchestra turned his back to it and bowed low, his arms spread wide, and Margarita, smiling, waved at him.

" No, not enough, not enough, " whispered Korovyov, " he won't sleep all night. Shout to him, 'I salute you, Waltz King! '"

Margarita did just that and was amazed to find that her voice, full-throated as a bell, drowned out the sound of the orchestra. The man trembled with happiness and pressed his left hand to his chest, while continuing with his right to conduct the orchestra with a white baton.

" Not enough, not enough, " whispered Korovyov. " Look over to your left at the first violins, and nod your head so that each one thinks you've recognized him individually. They're all world-famous. Look at the one in the first chair, that's Vieuxtemps. Good, very good. Now let's move on."

Satan's Grand Ball 225

He slapped himself once on one knee, then crossed one hand over the other and slapped his other knee twice, grabbed a cymbal from the musician nearest him, and struck it against a pillar.

As she flew off, Margarita saw only that the jazz virtuoso, competing with the polonaise that was blaring at Margarita's back, was beating his cymbals over his musicians' heads while they cringed in mock terror.

Finally they flew out to the landing where, Margarita realized, Korovyov had first greeted her in the dark with a lamp. Now the landing was flooded with blinding light pouring out of crystal lamps shaped like grape clusters. Margarita was shown to her place, and a low amethyst column appeared beneath her left arm.

" You can rest your hand on it if you get tired, " whispered Korovyov.

A black-skinned man tucked a pillow embroidered with a gold poodle under Margarita's feet, and, with someone's hands guiding her, Margarita bent her right knee and put her foot on the cushion.

Margarita tried to look around. Korovyov and Azazello were standing nearby in ceremonial poses. Next to Azazello were three young men who vaguely reminded Margarita of Abaddon. She felt a chill on her back. When Margarita turned around, she saw that wine was bubbling out of the marble wall behind her and flowing into a pool sculpted out of ice. She felt something warm and furry by her left foot It was Behemoth.

Margarita was standing at a great height, and a vast carpeted staircase descended beneath her feet. Down at the bottom, so far away that Margarita felt she was gazing through the wrong end of binoculars, she could see an enormous foyer with a fireplace so huge that a five-ton truck could drive into its cold, black maw. The foyer and staircase, so brightly lit that they pained the eyes, were empty. The sound of trumpets now reached Margarita from the distance. Thus they stood that