"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs ("Роковые яйца")" - читать интересную книгу автораCreak' ing the screw mercilessly, he peered at the newcomer over his
spectacles, then through them, and barked: "So you've got a warrant, have you? Where is it then?" The newcomer was clearly taken aback by what he saw. In general he was not prone to confusion, but now he was confused. Judging by his eyes, the thing that impressed him most was the bookcase with twelve shelves stretching right up to the ceiling and packed full of books. Then, of course, the chambers which, hell-like, were flooded with the crimson ray swelling up in the lenses. And Persikov himself in the semi-darkness by sharp point of the ray falling from the reflector looked strange and majestic in his revolving chair. The newcomer stared at him with an expression in which sparks of respect flashed clearly through the self-assurance, did not hand over any warrant, but said: "I am Alexander Semyonovich Feight!" "Well then? So what?" "I have been put in charge of the Red Ray Model State Farm," the newcomer explained. "So what?" "And so I have come to see you on secret business, comrade." "Well, I wonder what that can be. Put it briefly, if you don't mind." The newcomer unbuttoned his jacket and pulled out some instructions typed on splendid thick paper. He handed the paper to Persikov, then sat down uninvited on a revolving stool. "Don't push the table," said Persikov with hatred. The newcomer looked round in alarm at the table, on the far edge of opening. They sent shivers down your spine. No sooner had Persikov read the warrant, than he jumped up and rushed to the telephone. A few seconds later he was already saying hastily in a state of extreme irritation: "Forgive me... I just don't understand... How can it be? Without my consent or advice... The devil only knows what he'll do!" At that point the stranger, highly offended, spun round on the stool. "Pardon me, but I'm in charge..." he began. But Persikov shook a crooked finger at him and went on: "Excuse me, but I just don't understand. In fact, I object categorically. I refuse to sanction any experiments with the eggs... Until I have tried them myself..." Something croaked and rattled in the receiver, and even at a distance it was clear that the indulgent voice on the phone was talking to a small child. In the end a purple-faced Persikov slammed down the receiver, shouting over it at the wall: "I wash my hands of the whole business!" Going back to the table, he picked up the warrant, read it once from top to bottom over his spectacles, then from bottom to top through them, and suddenly howled: "Pankrat!" Pankrat appeared in the doorway as if he had shot up through the trap-door in an opera. Persikov glared at him and barked: "Go away, Pankrat!" And Pankrat disappeared, his face not expressing |
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