The Master and Margarita. deposit you made, Margarita Nikolayevna

deposit you made, Margarita Nikolayevna. We have no need of other people's money."

" I'd rather have my paws wither and fall off than touch what belongs to someone else, " exclaimed the cat in puffed-up tones, dancing on top of the suitcase to flatten down all the copies of the ill-starred novel.

" And here are your documents, too, " continued Korovyov, handing them to Margarita, and then, turning to Woland, he said respectfully, " That's everything, Messirel"

" No, not everything, " replied Woland, turning away from his globe. " What are your orders, my dear lady, regarding the disposition of your retinue? I personally have no need of them."

At this point Natasha, still naked, ran in through the open door. She clasped her hands and shouted to Margarita, " Be happy, Margarita Nikolayevnal" She nodded in the direction of the Master and again turned to Margarita, " You see, I always knew where you were going."

" Maids know everything, " noted the cat, raising his paw sagaciously. " It's a mistake to think they're blind."

" What do you want, Natasha? " asked Margarita. " Go back to the house."

" Darling, Margarita Nikolayevna, " began Natasha imploringly, getting down on her knees. " Ask them, " she looked sideways at Woland, " to let me stay a witch. I don't want to go back to the house! Not for an engineer, not for a technician! Yesterday at the ball Monsieur Jacques made me an offer." Natasha opened her hand, revealing some gold coins.

Margarita cast a questioning glance at Woland. He nodded. Then Natasha threw herself on Margarita's neck, gave her a loud kiss, and flew out the window with a triumphant whoop.

In Natasha's place appeared Nikolai Ivanovich. He had assumed his former human form, but he was extraordinarily glum, and even, perhaps, annoyed.

" Here's someone I shall dismiss with special pleasure, " said Woland, looking disgustedly at Nikolai Ivanovich. " With exceptional pleasure, since he's totally superfluous here."

" Please give me a certifí cate, " began Nikolai Ivanovich, looking around wildly, but speaking with great insistence, " stating where I spent last night."

" For what purpose? " asked the cat sternly.

" To give to the police and to my wife, " was Nikolai Ivanovich's firm response.

" We usually don't give certificates, " said the cat with a frown, " but all right, for you we'll make an exception."

Before Nikolai Ivanovich could realize what was happening, the nude Hella was at the typewriter, taking dictation from the cat, " I hereby certify that the bearer of this note, Nikolai Ivanovich, spent the night in question at Satan's ball, having been lured there in a trans-

The Liberation of the Master 249

portational capacity... Hella, put in parentheses! And write 'hog.' Signed—Behemoth."

" And the date? " squealed Nikolai Ivanovich.

" We won't put in the date, otherwise the document will be null and void, " retorted the cat, scribbling his signature. He got a seal from somewhere, breathed on it in the customary fashion, affixed a seal saying " Paid, " and handed the paper to Nikolai Ivanovich. After this the latter disappeared without a trace, and in his place appeared another unexpected figure.

" So who's this now? " asked Woland squeamishly, shading his eyes from the glow of the candles.

Varenukha hung his head, sighed, and said softly, " Let me go back. I'm not capable of being a vampire. Hella and I almost left Rimsky a goner! I'm just not bloodthirsty enough. Let me go."

" What's all this raving? " asked Woland with a frown. " Who's this Rimsky? And what's this nonsense all about? "

" You needn't trouble about this, Messire, " replied Azazello and he turned to Varenukha, " Don't be rude on the phone. Don't tell lies on the phone. Got it? Will you stop doing that? "

Varenukha's head was spinning from joy, his face began to glow, and without knowing what he was saying, he mumbled, " As God is my... that is, I want to say, your hi... right after dinner..." Varenukha pressed his hands to his chest and looked pleadingly at Azazello.

" All right then, go home, " die latter replied, and Varenukha melted away.

" Now everyone leave me alone with them, " ordered Woland, indicating the Master and Margarita.

Woland's order was immediately obeyed. After a brief silence Woland addressed the Master, " So, you're going back to the basement apartment off the Arbat, is that it? What about your writing? Your dreams, your inspiration? "

" I no longer have any dreams, or inspiration either, for that matter, " replied the Master. " Nothing around me interests me except her." He again put his hands on Margarita's head, " They've broken me, I'm depressed, and I want to go back to my basement."

" What about your novel? What about Pilate? "

" It's hateful to me, that novel, " answered the Master. " I suffered too much because of it."

" I implore you, " begged Margarita sorrowfully, " don't talk that way. Why are you torturing me? You know that I've put my whole life into your work." And turning to Woland, she added, " Don't listen to him, Messire, he's just worn out."

" But shouldn't you be writing about something? " said Woland. " If you've run out of things to say about the procurator, well, write about somebody else, that fellow Aloisy, for example."