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Azazello nodded silently.
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" Then I'll go! " Margarita exclaimed with vigor, seizing Azazello by
194 The Master and Margarita
the arm. " I'll go anywhere you want! "
Heaving a sigh of relief, Azazello leaned back against the bench, which had the name " Nyura" carved in large letters on it, and observed ironically, " A troublesome race, these women! " He buried his hands in his pockets and stretched his legs out in front of him. " Why did they send me on this job? Behemoth should have gone, he's the one with the charm..."
With a bitterly sad smile, Margarita said, " Stop trying to mystify and torment me with your riddles... I'm an unhappy person, and you're taking advantage of that. I may be getting involved in something strange, but if I am, I swear it's only because you lured me with your talk of him! My head is spinning from all these things I don't understand..."
" No scenes, no scenes, " retorted Azazello with a grimace. " You should put yourself in my position. Smacking some bureaucrat in the puss, booting out some old geezer, shooting someone, or anything along those lines, that's my real specialty, but talking with a woman in love—no thanks. I've been trying to talk you into this for half an hour now. So will you go? "
" I'll go, " was Margarita Nikolayevna's simple reply.
" Then be so kind as to take this, " said Azazello, who pulled a round gold jar out of his pocket, and handed it to Margarita, saying, " Hide it, or people will see. It'll do you good, Margarita Nikolayevna, your grief has really aged you in the past six months." Margarita flared up but said nothing, and Azazello continued, " Tonight, at exactly nine-thirty, be so kind as to take off your clothes and spread this ointment over your face and your whole body. Then you can do as you like, but don't leave the phone. I'll call you at ten and tell you everything you need to know. You don't have to worry about anything, you'll be taken where you have to go, and you won't be caused any upset Understood? "
After a short silence, Margarita replied, " Understood. This thing is pure gold, I can tell by the weight. Well, what of it, I know perfectly well that I'm being bribed and lured into some shady business, for which I'll have to pay a high price."
" What is this, " said Azazello, practically hissing, " are you starting in again? "
" No, wait! "
" Give me back the cream! "
Margarita clutched the jar tighter and continued, " No, wait... I know what I'm getting myself in for. But I'll do anything for his sake, because there's no hope left for me in this world. But if you destroy me, you'll be sorry! Yes, you will! Because I'll be dying for love! " —and, pounding her chest, Margarita gazed at the sun.
" Give it back, " Azazello yelled angrily. " Give it back, and to hell with everything! Let them send Behemoth! "
" Oh, no! " exclaimed Margarita, to the astonishment of passersby, " I agree to everything, I agree to play out this whole comedy with the
Margarita 1 95
cream, I agree to go to the devil and back! I won't give it back! "
" Bah! " Azazello howled suddenly. His eyes bulging, he began pointing at something over toward the park railing.
Margarita turned to where Azazello was pointing, but didn't notice anything in particular. Then she turned back to him, expecting an explanation for that absurd " Bah! " —but there was no one there to provide it: Margarita Nikolayevna's mysterious interlocutor had vanished.
Margarita quickly thrust her hand into her bag, where, prior to Azazello's howl, she had hidden the jar, and assured herself that it was still there. Then, without further reflection, she ran hurriedly out of Alexandrovsky Park.
XX
Azazello's Cream
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HE full moon hung in the clear evening sky, visible through the branches of the maple tree. The lindens and acacias traced an intricate pattern of spots on the garden floor. The triple-casement bay window, wide open but with blinds drawn, shone with a harsh electric light. The lights in Margarita Nikolayevna's bedroom were all turned on, revealing a state of total chaos. Chemises, stockings, and underwear were lying on the blanket on top of the bed, and other undergarments were strewn on the floor, along with a pack of cigarettes that had gotten crushed in the excitement. There were slippers on the night table next to an unfinished cup of coffee and an ashtray that held a smoking cigarette butt. A black evening gown hung on the back of a chair. The room smelled of perfume. And from somewhere came the smell of a red-hot iron.
Margarita Nikolayevna was sitting before her mirror in a bathrobe, which had been thrown over her naked body, and black suede shoes. In front of her lay a gold watch and next to it the small jar she had received from Azazello. Margarita's eyes were glued to the watch. At times it seemed to her as if the watch were broken and the hands weren't moving. But they were moving, albeit very slowly, as if they kept getting stuck, and finally the big hand hit twenty-nine minutes after nine. Margarita's heart gave such a terrible thump that at first she couldn't even pick up the jar. When she pulled herself together and opened the jar, she saw that it contained a greasy, yellowish cream which seemed to smell of swamp mud. With the tip of her finger Margarita scooped up a small glob of the cream and put it in her palm, which made the swampy, woodland smell more noticeable. She then began rubbing the cream into her cheeks and forehead.
The cream spread easily and seemed to be absorbed immediately. After several applications of the cream, Margarita looked in the mirror, and dropped the jar on the face of her watch, cracking the crystal. She closed her eyes, took another look, and burst into wild laughter.
Azazello's Cream 197
Her eyebrows, which had been plucked thread-thin at the ends, had thickened and now arched evenly over her eyes, which had become green. There was no longer any trace of the tiny vertical line on the bridge of her nose which had first appeared back in October when the Master disappeared. Gone, too, were the yellowish shadows around her temples and the barely noticeable crowsfeet at the outer corners of her eyes. Her cheeks were suffused with a rosy blush, her forehead had become clear and white, and her hair-salon permanent wave had loosened.