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

"Well, let them..."
"Tut-tut," Feight replied enigmatically, shaking his head.
"Who on earth, I should like to know, would ever think of using the ray
to hatch chickens..."
"Me," said Feight.
"Oh, I see. And why, if you don't mind my asking? How did you find out
about the properties of the ray?"
"I was at your lecture, Professor."
"But I haven't done anything with the eggs yet! I'm only planning to!"
"It'll work alright, honest it will," said Feight suddenly with great
conviction. "Your ray's so famous it could hatch elephants, not only
chickens."
"Now listen here," Persikov said. "You're not a zoologist, are you?
That's a pity. You would make a very bold experimenter. Yes, only you risk
... failure ... and you're taking up my time."
"We'll give the chambers back to you. Don't you worry!"
"When?"
"After I've hatched out the first batch."
"How confidently you said that! Very well! Pankrat!"
"I've brought some people with me," said Feight. "And a guard..."
By evening Persikov's study was desolate. The tables were empty.
Feight's people took away the three big chambers, only leaving the Professor
the first, the small one which he had used to begin the experiments.
The July dusk was falling. A greyness invaded the Institute, creeping
along the corridors. Monotonous steps could be heard in the study. Persikov
was pacing the large room from window to door, in the dark... And strange
though it may seem all the inmates of the Institute, and the animals too,
were prey to a curious melancholy that evening. For some reason the toads
gave a very mournful concert, croaking in a most sinister, ominous fashion.
Pankrat had to chase a grass-snake that slipped out of its chamber, and when
he caught it in the corridor the snake looked as if it would do anything
just to get away from there.
Late that evening the bell from Persikov's study rang. Pankrat appeared
on the threshold to be greeted by a strange sight. The scientist was
standing alone in the middle of the study, staring at the tables. Pankrat
coughed and froze to attention.
"There, Pankrat," said Persikov, pointing at the empty table. Pankrat
took fright. It looked in the dark as if the Professor
had been crying. That was unusual, terrifying.
"Yessir," Pankrat replied plaintively, thinking, "If only you'd bawl at
me!"
"There," Persikov repeated, and his lips trembled like a little boy's
whose favourite toy has suddenly been taken away from him.
"You know, my dear Pankrat," Persikov went on, turning away to face the
window. "My wife who left me fifteen years ago and joined an operetta
company has now apparently died... So there, Pankrat, dear chap... I got a
letter..."
The toads croaked mournfully, and darkness slowly engulfed the
Professor. Night was falling. Here and there white lamps went on in the
windows. Pankrat stood to attention with fright, confused and miserable.