"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs ("Роковые яйца")" - читать интересную книгу автора

follows: it did the Professor honour ... the Professor could rest assured
... he would not be disturbed any more, either at the Institute or at home
... steps would be taken, his chambers were perfectly safe...
"But couldn't you shoot the reporters?" asked Persikov, looking over
his spectacles.
His question cheered the visitors up no end. Not only the small gloomy
one, but even the tinted one in the hall gave a big smile. Beaming and
sparkling, the cherub explained that that was impossible.
"But who was that scoundrel who came here?"
The smiles disappeared at once, and the cherub replied evasively that
it was just some petty speculator not worth worrying about. All the same he
trusted that the Professor would treat the events of this evening in
complete confidence, and the visitors left.
Persikov returned to his study and the diagrams, but he was not
destined to study them. The telephone's red light went on, and a female
voice suggested that the Professor might like to marry an attractive and
amorous widow with a seven-roomed apartment. Persikov howled down the
receiver:
"I advise you to get treatment from Professor Rossolimo..." and then
the phone rang again.
This time Persikov softened somewhat, because the person, quite a
famous one, who was ringing from the Kremlin enquired at length with great
concern about Persikov's work and expressed the desire to visit his
laboratory. Stepping back from the telephone, Persikov wiped his forehead
and took off the receiver. Then trumpets began blaring and the shrieks of
the Valkyrie rang in the apartment upstairs. The cloth mill director's radio
had tuned in to the Wagner concert at the Bolshoi. To the accompaniment of
howls and rumbles descending from the ceiling, Persikov declared to Maria
Stepanovna that he would take the director to court, smash his radio to
bits, and get the blazes out of Moscow, because somebody was clearly trying
to drive him out. He broke his magnifying glass, spent the night on the
divan in the study and was lulled to sleep by the sweet trills of a famous
pianist wafted from the Bolshoi Theatre.
The following day was also full of surprises. After taking the tram to
the Institute, Persikov found a stranger in a fashionable green bowler hat
standing on the porch. He scrutinised Persikov carefully, but did not
address any questions to him, so Persikov put up with him. But in the
Institute hall, apart from the dismayed Pankrat, a second bowler hat stood
up as Persikov came in and greeted him courteously: "Good morning, Citizen
Professor."
"What do you want?" asked Persikov furiously, tearing off his coat with
Pankrat's help. But the bowler hat quickly pacified Persikov by whispering
in the gentlest of voices that there was no need at all for the Professor to
be upset. He, the bowler hat, was there precisely in order to protect the
Professor from all sorts of importunate visitors. The Professor could rest
assured not only about the laboratory doors, but also about the windows. So
saying the stranger turned back the lapel of his jacket for a moment and
showed the Professor a badge.
"Hm ... you work pretty efficiently, I must say," Persikov growled,
adding naively: "What will you have to eat?"