In addition to the others there was a huge black cat who was sitting on a tall stool in front of the chess table, holding a knight in his right paw.

Hella got up and bowed to Margarita. The cat did likewise after jumping off its stool. Clicking its right hind paw, it dropped the knight and crawled under the bed to retrieve iL

Dying from terror, Margarita somehow managed to see all this in the deceptive shadows of the candlelight. Her gaze was drawn to the bed, on which sat the one whom poor Ivan, at Patriarch's Ponds, had recently tried to convince of the devil's non-existence. This non-existent being was, in fact, sitting on the bed.

Two eyes bore into Margarita's face. The right eye had a gold spark deep in its center and could pierce anyone's soul to its depths; the left eye was vacant and black, like the narrow eye of a needle, like the entrance to a bottomless well of darkness and shadow. Woland's face was

By Candlelight 217

lopsided, the right corner of his mouth stretched downwards, and his high, balding forehead was etched with deep wrinkles which ran parallel to his sharp eyebrows. An eternal suntan seemed to have been burned into Woland's face.

Woland lay sprawled on the bed, dressed only in a long nightshirt, which was dirty and patched on the left shoulder. One naked leg was folded beneath him and the other was stretched out on the stool. Hella was massaging the knee of this dark leg with a smoking salve.

On Woland's bare, hairless chest Margarita also noted a gold chain with a finely carved scarab of dark stone that had some kind of writing engraved on the back. Next to Woland on the bed, on a heavy base, stood a strange globe that seemed to be alive and was lit up on one side by a sun.

The silence lasted for several seconds. " He's studying me, " thought Margarita, making an effort to control the trembling in her legs.

After smiling, which seemed to ignite the sparkle in his eye, Woland at last began to speak, " I welcome you, Queen, and beg you to excuse my at-home attire."

Woland's voice was so low that on certain syllables it drawled out into a wheeze.

He picked up a long sword that was lying on top of the bedclothes, bent down, and poked it under the bed, saying, " Come out of there! The game is over. Our guest has arrived."

" Not on my account, " whistled Korovyov anxiously in Margarita's ear, playing the role of prompter.

" Not on my account..." began Margarita.

" Messire..." Korovyov breathed into her ear.

" Don't stop on my account, Messire, " said Margarita sofdy but clearly, after regaining control of herself, and smiling, she added, " Please don't interrupt the game on my account I imagine the chess magazines would pay a tidy sum for the chance to print it."

Azazello cackled softly and approvingly, while Woland looked at Margarita attentively, and then remarked, as if to himself, " Yes, Korovyov's right. How capriciously the deck is shuffled! Blood tells! "

He extended his hand and beckoned Margarita to come closer. She did so without feeling the floor beneath her bare feet. Woland placed his hand, heavy as stone, yet, at the same time, hot as fire, on Margarita's shoulder, turned her towards him, and seated her on the bed next to him.

" Well, since you are so enchantingly kind, " he said, " and I never expected otherwise, we'll dispense with formalities." Again he leaned over to the edge of the bed and shouted, " How long is this farce under the bed going to continue? Come out of there, accursed Cans! "

" I can't find the knight, " replied the cat in an affected and muffled voice from under the bed. " He galloped off somewhere and a frog's turned up instead."

" What do you think this is, a fairground? " asked Woland, pretending