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In the end Margarita Nikolayevna got fed up listening to the mysterious prattle about a stolen head, and she was glad when it was time for her to get off.






Minutes later Margarita Nikolayevna was sitting on one of the benches beneath the Kremlin wall, having positioned herself so that she had view of the Manè ge.

Margarita squinted in the bright sunlight, recalled her dream of the previous night, and recalled that exactly one year before, on the same day and at the same time, she had been sitting with him on this same bench. And her black bag was lying beside her on the bench, just as it had then. Although he wasn't with her now, Margarita Nikolayevna was talking to him in her thoughts: " If you've been exiled, why haven't you let me know? People do manage to let others know. Have you fallen out


190 The Master and Margarita

of love with me? No, somehow I can't believe that. That means you were exiled and died... Then I beg you, release me, give me the freedom to live and breathe." Margarita Nikolayevna answered for him: " You are free... Am I stopping you? " Then she protested, " What kind of an answer is that? No, make me forget you, then I'll be free."

People walked past Margarita Nikolayevna. A man gave the well-dressed woman a sidelong glance, attracted by her beauty and the fact that she was alone. He coughed and sat down at the end of the bench where Margarita Nikolayevna was sitting, and after gathering up his courage, said, " Decidedly beautiful weather today..."

But Margarita gave him such a glowering look that he got up and left.

" That's what I mean, " said Margarita in her head to the man who possessed her. " Why, really, did I chase that man away? I'm bored, and there was nothing wrong with that Lovelace except, perhaps, for his stupid 'decidedly.' Why am I sitting here alone beneath the wall, like an owl? Why am I cut off from life? "

She became totally sad and depressed. But suddenly that morning's wave of expectation and excitement hit her in the chest. " Yes, something is going to happen! " The wave hit her again, and then she realized it was a wave of sound. The beating of drums and the blaring of trumpets, slightly off-key, could be heard with ever-increasing clarity through the din of the city.

Leading the procession that was passing the park railing was a mounted policeman, followed by three men on foot. Next came the musicians on a slow-moving truck. After that, a brand-new open hearse carrying a wreath-covered coffin and four people—three men and a woman—each of whom was standing on a corner of the platform.

Even from a distance Margarita could tell that the faces of those standing in the hearse accompanying the deceased on his last journey looked strangely perplexed. This was especially true of the woman standing in the left rear corner of the vehicle. Her plump cheeks seemed to be bursting with some kind of juicy secret, and there was an ambiguous sparkle in her puffy little eyes. It seemed as if she couldn't contain herself and was about to wink at the deceased and say, " Have you ever seen anything like it? A real mystery! " Similarly perplexed faces could be seen on the three hundred or so mourners walking slowly behind the hearse.

Margarita watched the procession as it passed, listening to the fading sounds of the mournful bass drum, beating out its ever-constant " boom, boom, boom." " What an odd funeral, " she thought." And how depressing that 'boom' is! Ah, really I'd sell my soul to the devil if I could only find out if he's still alive or not! Who, I wonder, are those amazed-looking people burying? "

" Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz, " said a somewhat nasal masculine voice beside her, " the chairman of MASSOLIT."



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