Shaken, the bartender pulled a package out of his pocket, untied it and froze. Wrapped in the newspaper were ten-ruble bills.

" My dear fellow, you really are ill, " said Woland, shrugging his shoulders.

The bartender got up from the stool, a strange smile on his face. " But, " he said, stuttering, " but what if they try to... again..." " Hmm..." the artiste grew pensive. " Well, then, come back and see us again. By all means! Happy to have made your acquaintance."

Here Korovyov popped out of the study, grabbed the bartender's hand and started snaking it, begging Andrei Fokich to give everyone, everyone his regards. Completely befuddled, the bartender headed for the entrance hall.

" Hella, show him out! " shouted Korovyov.

Again the naked redhead appeared in the hall! The bartender squeezed through the door, squeaked out a " good-bye, " and staggered on his way like a drunk. After going down a few steps, he stopped and sat down on the stairs. He pulled out the package to check the contenu: the ten-ruble bills were still there. At that point a woman with a green bag came out of the apartment facing the landing. Seeing a man sitting on the step, staring dully at ten-ruble bills, she smiled and said pensively, " What a building we have... Only morning and this guy's already drunk. The window on the stairs is smashed again! " She studied the bartender more carefully and added, " Hey citizen, you're up to your ears in ten-ruble bills. How about throwing some my way! Huh? "

Unlucky Visitó n 177

" Leave me alone, for Christ's sake, " said the bartender fearfully and quickly hid the money. The woman laughed, " Go to hell, you old skinflint! I was just joking..." and she started down the stairs.

The bartender got up slowly, raised his hand to adjust his hat, and found that it wasn't on his head. The thought of going back was horrible, but he regretted the loss of his hat. He hesitated for a moment, but then went back and rang the bell.

" What do you want now? " asked the hellish Hella.

" I forgot my hat, " whispered the bartender, poking at his bald head. Hella turned away, the bartender mentally spat and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Hella was handing him his hat and a sword with a dark hilt.

" That's not mine, " whispered the bartender, pushing the sword aside and quickly putting on his hat.

" Did you really come without a sword? " marveled Hella.

The bartender mumbled something and started swiftly down the stairs. For some reason his head felt hot and uncomfortable in the hat; he took it off and jumping with fright, let out a soft yelp. In his hands was a velvet beret with a rumpled cock's feather. The bartender crossed himself. At that very moment the beret meowed and turned into a black kitten, which then leapt back onto Andrei Fokich's head and dug its claws into his bald spot. Letting out a desperate scream, the bartender plunged down the stairs, and the kitten fell off his head and scooted back up the stairs.

Bursting out into the open air, the bartender ran over to the gates at a trot and left devils' den No. 302B forever.

What happened to him next is well known. After bursting through the gateway, the bartender looked around wildly, as if searching for something. A minute later he was in a drugstore across the street. Just as he uttered the words, Tell me, please..." the woman behind the counter yelled out, " Citizen! Your head is all cut up! "

Five minutes later the bartender, wearing a gauze bandage, found out that the leading specialists in liver disease were considered to be Professors Bernadsky and Kuzmin. When he asked which one was closer, he lit up with joy when he learned that Kuzmin lived literally across the yard in a little white house. Two minutes later he was there.

The house was old, but very comfortable, very cozy. Thinking about it later, the bartender recalled that the first person to greet him was an elderly nurse, who wanted to take his hat, but since he did not have one, she shuffled off somewhere, chewing on her toothless gums.

Next came a middle-aged woman, who materialized next to a mirror and under what appeared to be an archway. She told him that the earliest appointment she could give him was the nineteenth, no sooner. The bartender realized immediately how he could get around that After glancing with a fading eye through the archway, where three men were sitting in