The Master and Margarita

CHAPTER 12. Black Magic and Its Exposure       A  small  man  in  a  yellow  bowler-hat  full  of  holes  and  with  apear-shaped,   raspberry-coloured   nose,   in   checkered    trousers   andpatent-leather  shoes, rolled out  on  to the  stage  of the Variety  on  anordinary two-wheeled  bicycle. To the sounds of a foxtrot  he made a circle,and then gave a triumphant shout, which caused his bicycle to rear up. Afterriding  around  on  the  back wheel,  the little  man  turned  upside  down,contrived while in motion to unscrew the front wheel and  send it backstage,and then proceeded  on his  way with one wheel, turning the pedals  with hishands.     On a tall metal pole with a seat at the top and a single wheel, a plumpblonde rolled out in tights and a little skirt strewn with silver stars, andbegan  riding in a circle. As  he met  her, the little man uttered cries  ofgreeting, doffing his bowler-hat with his foot.     Finally, a little eight-year-old with an elderly face came  rolling outand  began scooting  about among the adults on a tiny two-wheeler  furnishedwith an enormous automobile horn.     After  making  several  loops,  the  whole  company,  to  the  alarmingdrum-beats of the  orchestra, rolled to the  very edge of the stage, and thespectators in the front rows  gasped and drew back, because it seemed to thepublic that the whole trio with  its vehicles was about to  crash  down intothe orchestra pit.     But the  bicycles stopped  just  at  the moment  when the front  wheelsthreatened to slide into the abyss  on the heads of the  musicians.  With  aloud shout of 'Hup!' the cyclists jumped off their vehicles  and  bowed, theblonde woman blowing kisses  to  the public,  and the little one  tooting  afunny signal on his horn.     Applause  shook the  building, the light-blue  curtain  came from  bothsides and covered the cyclists,  the green 'Exit'  lights by  the doors wentout, and in the web of trapezes under the  cupola white spheres lit up  likethe sun. It was die intermission before die last part.     The only man who was not the least bit interested in the wonders of theGiulli family's cycling technique was Grigory Danilovich Rimsky.     In complete  solitude  he sat  in his office, biting  his thin lips,  aspasm  passing  over  his  face  from  time  to time.  To  the extraordinarydisappearance  of  Likhodeev  had  now  been  added  the  wholly  unforeseendisappearance of Varenukha.     Rimsky knew where he had gone, but he had gone and . . . not come back!Rimsky shrugged his shoulders and whispered to himself:     'But what for?'     And it was strange: for such a  practical man  as the findirector,  thesimplest thing would, of course, have been to call the place where Varenukhahad  gone  and  find out  what had  befallen him,  yet until  ten o'clock atnight'he had been unable to force himself to do it.     At  ten,  doing outright  violence to  himself, Rimsky  picked  up  thereceiver  and  here  discovered  that his telephone was dead. The  messengerreported that the other telephones in  the building were  also out of order.This certainly unpleasant, though  hardly supernatural,  occurrence for somereason thoroughly shocked the findirector, but at the same time he was glad:the need to call fell away.     Just as the  red light over the findirector's head  lit up and blinked,announcing the  beginning  of  the  intermission, a  messenger  came in  andinformed him of the  foreign artiste's arrival. The  findirector cringed forsome reason, and, blacker than a storm  cloud, went backstage to receive thevisitor, since there was no one else to receive him.     Under  various  pretexts,  curious  people  kept  peeking into the  bigdressing room from the  corridor, where the signal bell was already ringing.Among them were conjurers in bright robes and  turbans, a skater in a  whiteknitted jacket, a storyteller pale with powder and the make-up man.     The newly arrived celebrity  struck  everyone by  his marvellously  cuttailcoat,  of a length  never seen before, and by his having come in a blackhalf-mask.  But  most  remarkable  of  all were  the  black  magician's  twocompanions: a  long checkered one with  a cracked pince-nez, and a fat blackcat who came into the dressing room on his hind legs  and quite nonchalantlysat on the sofa squinting at the bare make-up lights.     Rimsky  attempted to produce a smile on his face,  which  made it  looksour and spiteful, and bowed to the silent black magician, who was seated onthe sofa beside  the  cat. There was  no  handshake. Instead,  the easygoingcheckered one  made  his  own  introductions  to  the  fin-director, callinghimself 'the gent's assistant'. This circumstance surprised the findirector,and unpleasantly so: there was decidedly no mention of any assistant in  thecontract.     Quite  stiffly   and  drily,  Grigory  Danilovich   inquired   of  thisfallen-from-the-sky checkered one where the artiste's paraphernalia was.     'Our heavenly diamond, most  precious mister director,' the  magician'sassistant replied in a rattling voice, 'the paraphernalia is always with us.Here it is! Ein, zwei, drei!' And, waving his knotty fingers before Rimsky'seyes, he suddenly took from behind the cat's ear Rimsky's own gold watch andchain, hitherto worn by the findirector in his  waistcoat pocket, under  hisbuttoned coat, with the chain through a buttonhole.     Rimsky  inadvertently clutched his  stomach, those  present gasped, andthe make-up man, peeking in the doorway, grunted approvingly.     Tour  little watchie? Kindly take it,' the checkered  one said, smilingcasually and offering  the bewildered Rimsky  his  own  property  on a dirtypalm.     'No getting on a tram with that one,' the storyteller whispered quietlyand merrily to the make-up man.     But the cat  pulled a neater  trick  than  the number  with the  stolenwatch. Getting up from the sofa unexpectedly,  he walked on his hind legs tothe dressing table, pulled the stopper out of the carafe with his front paw,poured water into a glass, drank it, installed the stopper in its place, andwiped his whiskers with a make-up cloth.     Here no one even gasped, their mouths simply fell open, and the make-upman whispered admiringly:     'That's class!'     Just  then the bells rang alarmingly for  the third time, and everyone,agitated  and  anticipating  an interesting  number,  thronged  out  of  thedressing room.     A moment  later  the spheres went out  in the  theatre, the  footlightsblazed up,  lending  a reddish  glow to the base of the curtain, and  in thelighted gap of  the curtain there appeared before the public  a  plump  man,merry  as  a  baby,  with  a clean-shaven face,  in  a rumpled tailcoat  andnone-too-fresh shirt. This was the master of ceremonies, well  known  to allMoscow -- Georges Bengalsky.     'And now, citizens,' Bengalsky began, smiling his baby smile, 'there isabout to come  before you ...' Here Bengalsky interrupted himself and  spokein a different tone: 'I see the audience has grown for the third part. We'vegot  half the city here! I met a friend the  other day and said to him: "Whydon't you come to our show? Yesterday we had half the city." And he  says tome:  "I live in  the other half!"' Bengalsky  paused, waiting for a burst oflaughter, but as  no one  laughed, he went on: '. . . And so,  now comes thefamous foreign artiste. Monsieur Woland, with a seance of black magic. Well,both you and I know,'  here Bengalsky  smiled a wise smile, 'that there's nosuch  thing in  the world, and that it's all just superstition,  and MaestroWoland is simply a perfect master of the technique of conjuring, as we shallsee from the most interesting part, that is, the exposure of this technique,and since we're all of  us to a man both for technique and for its exposure,let's bring on Mr Woland! ...'     After uttering all this claptrap, Bengalsky pressed  his palms togetherand waved them in greeting through the slit of  the curtain, which caused itto part with a soft rustic.     The entrance of the magician with his  long assistant and the cat,  whocame on stage on his hind legs, pleased the audience greatly.     'An armchair  for  me,' Woland  ordered in  a low  voice, and that samesecond an armchair appeared  on  stage, no  one  knew  how or from where, inwhich the magician sat down. 'Tell me, my gentle Fagott,' Woland inquired ofthe  checkered clown, who  evidently had another appellation than  Koroviev,'what  do you think,  the  Moscow populace has changed significantly, hasn'tit?'     The  magician  looked  out  at  the  hushed  audience,  struck  by  theappearance of the armchair out of nowhere.     "That it has, Messire,' Fagott-Koroviev replied in a low voice.     "You're right. The  city folk have  changed greatly  . . .  externally,that is ... as has the city itself, incidentally.  . . Not  to mention theirclothing, these ...  what do you call them . . . trams, automobiles ... haveappeared...'     'Buses .. .'-Fagott prompted deferentially.     The  audience listened attentively to  this  conversation,  thinking itconstituted  a  prelude  to the magic  tricks.  The wings  were  packed withperformers and stage-hands, and among  their faces could be  seen the tense,pale face of Rimsky.     The physiognomy of  Bengalsky,  who  had retreated  to the side of  thestage, began  to  show  some perplexity. He raised one eyebrow slighdy  and,taking advantage of a pause, spoke:     "The  foreign artiste is expressing his admiration  for Moscow and  itstechnological development, as  well as for  the  Muscovites.' Here Bengalskysmiled twice, first to the stalls, then to the gallery.     Woland, Fagott and the cat  turned their heads  in the direction of themaster of ceremonies.     'Did I express admiration?' the magician asked the checkered Fagott.     'By no  means,  Messire, you never expressed  any admiration,' came thereply.     Then what is the man saying?'     'He quite  simply lied!' the  checkered assistant declared  sonorously,for the whole theatre to hear, and turning to Bengalsky, he added:     'Congrats, citizen, you done lied!'     Tittering spattered  from the  gallery, but Bengalsky gave a  start andgoggled his eyes.     'Of course, I'm not so much interested in buses, telephones and other .. .'     'Apparatuses,' the checkered one prompted.     'Quite right, thank you,' the magician  spoke slowly  in a  heavy bass,'as  in  a  question of much  greater importance: have the city folk changedinwardly?'     "Yes, that is the most important question, sir.'     There  was  shrugging  and  an  exchanging  of  glances  in  the wings,Bengalsky stood  all red, and Rimsky was pale.  But  here, as if sensing thenascent alarm, the magician said:     'However, we're  talking  away, my  dear Fagott, and  the  audience  isbeginning to get bored. My gende Fagott, show us some simple little thing tostart with.'     The audience stirred. Fagott and the cat walked along the footlights toopposite  sides  of  the  stage.  Fagott snapped  his fingers,  and  with  arollicking Three, four!' snatched a deck of cards from the air, shuffled it,and sent it in a long ribbon to the cat. The cat intercepted it and  sent itback. The satiny snake whiffled, Fagott opened his mouth like a nestling andswallowed it all card by card. After which the cat bowed, scraping his righthind paw, winning himself unbelievable applause.     'Class! Real class!' rapturous shouts came from the wings.     And Fagott jabbed his finger at the stalls and announced:     'You'll find that same deck, esteemed  citizens,  on citizen Parchevskyin the seventh row, just between a three-rouble bill and  a summons to courtin connection with the payment of alimony to citizen Zeikova.'     There was a stirring in the stalls, people began to get up, and finallysome citizen whose name  was  indeed Parchevsky, all crimson with amazement,extracted  the deck from his wallet and began sticking it up in the air, notknowing what to do with it.     'YOU may keep it as a souvenir!' cried Fagott. 'Not for nothing did yousay at dinner  yesterday that if it weren't for poker  your  life  in Moscowwould be utterly unbearable.'     'An  old trick!' came from the gallery. The one  in  the stalls is fromthe same company.'     'You think so?' shouted Fagott, squinting at the gallery. 'In that caseyou're also one of us, because the deck is now in your pocket!'     There was movement in the balcony, and a joyful voice said:     'Right! He's got it! Here, here! . . . Wait! It's ten-rouble bills!'     Those  sitting in  the stalls turned  their  heads. In  the  gallery  abewildered  citizen found in his  pocket  a  bank-wrapped packet  with  'Onethousand roubles' written on it. His neighbours hovered over him, and he, inamazement, picked at  the wrapper with his fingernail, trying to find out ifthe bills were real or some sort of magic ones.     'By God, they're real!  Ten-rouble  bills!'  joyful cries came from thegallery.     'I want to play with the same kind of deck,' a fat man in the middle ofthe stalls requested merrily.     'Avec  playzeer!'  Fagott responded. 'But  why just you? Everyone  willwarmly participate!'  And he commanded: 'Look up, please! .  ..  One!' Therewas  a pistol in his hand. He shouted: 'Two!' The pistol was  pointed up. Heshouted: 'Three!' There was a flash, a bang, and all at once, from under thecupola, bobbing between  the trapezes, white strips of  paper  began fallinginto the theatre.     They twirled, got blown aside, were drawn  towards the gallery, bouncedinto the orchestra and on to the stage. In a few seconds, the rain of money,ever  thickening,  reached the  seats, and the spectators began snatching atit.     Hundreds  of arms were raised, the spectators held the bills up to  thelighted stage and saw the most  true and honest-to-God watermarks. The smellalso left no  doubts: it was the incomparably  delightful  smell of  freshlyprinted money. The whole  theatre was seized first  with merriment  and thenwith amazement. The word 'money, money!' hummed everywhere, there were gaspsof 'ah, ah!' and  merry  laughter. One or two were already  crawling  in theaisles,  feeling under the chairs. Many stood on the seats,  trying to catchthe flighty, capricious notes.     Bewilderment was gradually coming  to  the faces of the  policemen, andperformers unceremoniously began sticking their heads out from the wings.     In the dress circle a  voice was heard: 'What're  you grabbing at? It'smine,  it flew to me!' and another  voice:  'Don't shove  me, or you'll  getshoved  back!'  And  suddenly there came the sound  of a  whack.  At  once apoliceman's helmet appeared in the  dress circle, and someone from the dresscircle was led away.     The  general  agitation was increasing,  and no one knows where  it allwould have ended  if Fagott had not  stopped the rain  of money  by suddenlyblowing into the air.     Two  young men, exchanging significant and merry glances, took off fromtheir seats  and  made  straight  for  the  buffet.  There was a hum in  thetheatre,  all the  spectators'  eyes glittered excitedly.  Yes,  yes, no oneknows  where  it all  would  have ended if Bengalsky had  not  summoned  hisstrength  and acted. Trying to gain better control of himself, he rubbed hishands, as was his custom, and in his most resounding voice spoke thus:     'Here, citizens, you  and  I have just beheld a case of  so-called masshypnosis. A purely scientific  experiment, proving in the best way  possiblethat  there are  no  miracles in magic. Let us  ask Maestro Woland to exposethis experiment  for  us. Presendy,  citizens,  you will see these  supposedbanknotes disappear as suddenly as they appeared.'     Here he  applauded, but quite alone, while a confident  smile played onhis  face,  yet  in his eyes  there  was no such confidence,  but  rather anexpression of entreaty.     The audience did not like Bengalsky's speech. Total silence fell, whichwas broken by the checkered Fagott.     'And  this is a case  of  so-called  lying,'  he  announced in a  loud,goatish tenor. The notes, citizens, are genuine.'     'Bravo!' a bass barked from somewhere on high.     This one, incidentally,' here  Fagott pointed to Bengalsky, 'annoys me.Keeps poking his nose where nobody's asked him, spoils the seance with falseobservations! What're we going to do with him?'     Tear his head off!' someone up in the gallery said severely.     'What's that you said? Eh?' Fagott responded at once to this outrageoussuggestion. Tear his head off? There's an idea! Behemoth!' he shouted to thecat. 'Go to it! Bin, zwei, drei!!'     And an  unheard-of thing  occurred. The fur bristled on the cat's back,and he gave a rending miaow. Then he compressed himself into a ball and shotlike a panther straight at Bengalsky's chest, and from there on to his head.Growling, the cat sank his  plump  paws into  the  skimpy  chevelure of  themaster  of ceremonies  and in two twists tore the head  from  the thick neckwith a savage howl.     The  two and  a half thousand people in the  theatre cried out as  one.Blood  spurted in fountains from the  torn neck arteries and poured over theshirt-front  and tailcoat.  The  headless  body  paddled  its  feet  somehowabsurdly and sat down  on the floor. Hysterical women's  cries came from theaudience. The  cat handed the head to Fagott,  who lifted it  up by the hairand showed it to  the  audience, and the  head cried desperately for all thetheatre to hear:     'A doctor!'     'Will you pour out such drivel in the future?' Fagott asked the weepinghead menacingly.     'Never again!' croaked the head.     'For God's sake, don't torture  him!'  a woman's voice  from a box seatsuddenly rose above the clamour, and the magician turned in the direction ofthat voice.     'So,  what  then,  citizens,  shall  we  forgive  him?'  Fagott  asked,addressing the audience.     'Forgive him, forgive him!'  separate  voices,  mostly  women's,  spokefirst, then merged into one chorus with the men's.     'What are your orders, Messire?' Fagott asked the masked man.     'Well, now,'  the  latter replied pensively,  'they're people  like anyother people  . .. They love money, but that  has always been so ... Mankindloves money,  whatever it's  made of-  leather,  paper, bronze, gold.  Well,they're  light-minded . . . well, what of it  ... mercy  sometimes knocks attheir hearts . . . ordinary people ... In general, reminiscent of the formerones . .. only the housing problem has corrupted them ..  .'  And he orderedloudly: 'Put the head on.'     The cat,  aiming  accurately, planted the head on the neck,  and it satexactly in its place, as if it had never gone anywhere. Above all, there wasnot even any scar left on the neck. The cat brushed Bengalsky's tailcoat andshirt-front with his  paws, and all  traces of blood disappeared from  them.Fagott got the sitting  Bengalsky to his feet, stuck a  packet of money intohis coat pocket, and sent him from the stage with the words:     'Buzz off, it's more fun without you!'     Staggering and looking around senselessly, the master of ceremonies hadplodded  no  farther than the  fire  post  when he  felt sick.  He cried outpitifully:     'My head, my head!...'     Among those who  rushed to  him was Rimsky.  The  master of  ceremonieswept, snatched at something in the air with his hands, and muttered:     'Give me my head, give me  back my head . .. Take my apartment, take mypaintings, only give me back my head! . . .'     A messenger ran for a doctor. They tried to  lie  Bengalsky  down  on asofa in  the dressing room,  but he  began to struggle, became violent. Theyhad  to call  an  ambulance.  When  the unfortunate master of ceremonies wastaken away, Rimsky ran  back  to  the  stage and saw  that  new wonders weretaking place on it.  Ah, yes, incidentally, either then or a little earlier,the magician disappeared from the stage  together  with  his faded armchair,and it must be said that the public took absolutely no notice of it, carriedaway as it was by the extraordinary things Fagott was unfolding on stage.     And  Fagott,  having packed  off  the  punished master  of  ceremonies,addressed the public thus:     'All  righty,  now  that we've kicked that  nuisance out, let's  open aladies' shop!'     And  all  at once the  floor  of  the  stage  was  covered with Persiancarpets,  huge  mirrors appeared, lit  by  greenish tubes at the sides,  andbetween  the mirrors --  display windows, and in them the merrily astonishedspectators saw Parisian ladies' dresses of various colours and cuts. In someof the  windows, that is, while in others there appeared hundreds of ladies'hats, with feathers and  without feathers, and -- with buckles or without --hundreds of shoes, black, white, yellow, leather, satin, suede, with straps,with  stones.  Among the shoes there appeared cases of perfume, mountains ofhandbags of  antelope hide,  suede,  silk, and among these, whole  heaps  oflittle elongated cases of gold metal such as usually contain lipstick.     A  red-headed girl appeared from devil  knows where in a  black eveningdress -- a girl nice in  all  respects,  had she not been  marred by a queerscar on her neck - smiling a proprietary smile by the display windows.     Fagott,  grinning  sweetly,  announced   that  the  firm  was  offeringperfectly  gratis  an exchange of  the  ladies'  old dresses  and  shoes forParisian  models  and  Parisian  shoes.  The  same held,  he added,  for thehandbags and other things.     The cat began scraping with his hind paw, while his front paw performedthe gestures appropriate to a doorman opening a door.     The girl  sang out  sweetly, though  with some hoarseness, rolling  herr's, something not quite comprehensible but, judging by the women's faces inthe stalls, very tempting:     'Gueriain,  Chanel, Mitsouko,  Narcisse  Noir, Chanel  No.  5,  eveninggowns, cocktail dresses . . .'     Fagott wriggled, the cat bowed, the girl opened the glass windows.     'Welcome!' yelled Fagott. With no embarrassment or ceremony!'     The audience was excited, but as yet no one ventured on stage.  Finallysome brunette stood up in the tenth row of the  stalls and, smiling as if tosay it was all the same to her and she did not give a hoot, went and climbedon stage by the side stairs.     'Bravo!' Fagott shouted. 'Greetings to the  first customer! Behemoth, achair! Let's start with the shoes, madame.'     The  brunette sat in the chair, and Fagott at once poured a  whole heapof shoes on the rug in front of her. The  brunette  removed her  right shoe,tried a lilac one, stamped on the rug, examined the heel.     They won't pinch?' she asked pensively.     To this Fagott exclaimed with a hurt air:     'Come, come!' and the cat miaowed resentfully.     'I'll take this pair, m'sieur,' the brunette said with dignity, puttingon the second shoe as well.     The  brunette's  old  shoes  were  tossed  behind a  curtain,  and  sheproceeded there herself, accompanied by the red-headed girl  and Fagott, whowas carrying several fashionable dresses  on hangers.  The cat busded about,helped, and for greater importance hung a measuring tape around his neck.     A  minute  later the brunette came  from behind  the  curtain in such adress that the stalls all let out  a gasp.  The brave woman, who had  becomeastonishingly prettier,  stopped at  the mirror, moved  her  bare shoulders,touched the hair on her nape and, twisting, tried to peek at her back.     The firm asks you to accept  this  as a souvenir,'  said Fagott, and heoffered the brunette an open case with a flacon in it     'Merci,'  the  brunette said  haughtily and went down the steps  to thestalls. As she walked, the spectators jumped up and touched the case.     And  here there came a clean breakthrough,  and  from all  sides  womenmarched  on to the stage. Amid the  general agitation of talk, chuckles  andgasps, a man's voice was heard: 'I won't allow it!' and a woman's:     'Despot  and philistine! Don't break my  arm!' Women disappeared behindthe curtain, leaving their dresses there and coming out in new ones. A wholerow  of  ladies  sat  on  stools  with  gilded  legs,  stamping  the  carpetenergetically  with newly shod feet. Fagott was on his  knees,  working awaywith  a metal shoehorn; the cat, fainting  under  piles of purses and shoes,plodded back and forth between the display windows and the stools;  the girlwith the  disfigured neck  appeared and  disappeared, and reached  the pointwhere she  started rattling away entirely in French, and,  surprisingly, thewomen all  understood her from half a word,  even  those who did  not know asingle word of French.     General  amazement was  aroused by  a  man edging  his way on-stage. Heannounced that his wife had  the flu, and he therefore asked that  somethingbe sent to her through him. As proof that he was indeed married, the citizenwas prepared to show his passport. The solicitous husband's announcement wasmet with guffaws. Fagott  shouted that he believed  him  like  his own self,even  without  the passport,  and  handed  the  citizen  two pairs  of  silkstockings, and the cat for his part added a little tube of lipstick.     Late-coming women  tore on  to the stage, and off the  stage  the luckyones  came pouring down  in ball gowns, pyjamas  with  dragons, sober formaloutfits, little hats tipped over one eyebrow.     Then Fagott announced that owing to the lateness of the  hour, the shopwould  close  in  exactly  one  minute  until  the  next  evening,   and  anunbelievable  scramble  arose on-stage. Women  hastily grabbed shoes withouttrying them on. One burst behind the curtain  like a storm, got out  of  herdress there, took possession of the first thing that  came to hand -- a silkdressing-gown covered with huge bouquets -- and managed to pick up two casesof perfume besides.     Exactly a minute later a pistol shot rang out, the mirrors disappeared,the  display windows and stools dropped away, the carpet melted into air, asdid the curtain.  Last to disappear was the high mountain of old dresses andshoes, and the stage was again severe, empty and bare.     And it was here that a new character mixed into the affair. A pleasant,sonorous, and very insistent baritone came from box no. 2:     'All the same  it  is  desirable, citizen artiste, that you  expose thetechnique of your tricks  to the  spectators  without delay,  especially thetrick  with  the  paper  money.  It  is also  desirable that the  master  ofceremonies return  to  the  stage.  The spectators are concerned  about  hisfate.'     The  baritone  belonged  to  none other  than  that  evening's guest ofhonour,  Arkady   Apollonovich  Sempleyarov,  chairman  of   the   AcousticsCommission of the Moscow theatres.     Arkady  Apollonovich  was  in  his  box with two ladies: the  older onedressed expensively  and  fashionably,  the  other  one,  young  and pretty,dressed  in  a  simpler way. The first, as  was soon  discovered during  thedrawing up of the report, was Arkady Apollonovich's wife, and the second washis distant relation,  a  promising debutante, who had come from Saratov andwas living in the apartment of Arkady Apollonovich and his wife.     Tardone!'  Fagott replied. 'I'm sorry, there's nothing here to  expose,it's all clear.'     'No,  excuse me! The exposure is absolutely necessary.  Without it yourbrilliant numbers  will  leave a painful impression. The mass of  spectatorsdemands an explanation.'     'The mass of  spectators,' the  impudent clown interrupted Sempleyarov,'doesn't  seem to  be saying  anything. But,  in consideration of  your mostesteemed desire, Arkady Apollonovich, so be it - I will perform an exposure.But, to that end, will you allow me one more tiny number?'     'Why not?' Arkady  Apollonovich replied patronizingly. 'But there  mustbe an exposure.'     'Very well,  very well, sir.  And so, allow me to ask,  where were  youlast evening, Arkady Apollonovich?'     At  this  inappropriate  and  perhaps  even  boorish  question,  ArkadyApollonovich's countenance changed, and changed quite drastically.     'Last  evening Arkady  Apollonovich was  at a meeting  of the AcousticsCommission,' Arkady  Apollonovich's  wife declared  very  haughtily, "but  Idon't understand what that has got to do with magic.'     'Ouee, madame!' Fagott agreed. 'Naturally you don't understand.  As forthe meeting, you are totally deluded. After driving off to the said meeting,which   incidentally  was  not   even   scheduled  for  last  night,  ArkadyApollonovich dismissed his chauffeur at the Acoustics Commission building onClean  Ponds'  (the whole  theatre  became  hushed),  'and  went by  bus  toYelokhovskaya  Street  to  visit  an actress  from  the  regional  itineranttheatre, Militsa Andreevna Pokobatko, with whom he spent some four hours.'     'Aie!'  someone cried  out  painfully  in  the  total  silence.  ArkadyApollonovich's young relation suddenly broke into a low and terrible laugh.     'It's all clear!' she exclaimed. 'And I've long suspected it. Now I seewhy that giftless thing got the role of Louisa!''     And, swinging suddenly, she struck Arkady Apollonovich on the head withher short and fat violet umbrella.     Meanwhile, the scoundrelly Fagott, alias Koroviev, was shouting:     'Here,  honourable  citizens,  is  one  case  of  the  exposure  ArkadyApollonovich so importunately insisted on!'     'How dare  you touch Arkady  Apollonovich, you  vile  creature!' ArkadyApollonovich's wife  asked  threateningly,  rising  in  the  box  to all hergigantic height.     A second brief wave of satanic laughter seized the young relation. 'Whoelse should dare touch him,' she answered,  guffawing, 'if not  me!' And forthe second time there came the dry, crackling sound of the umbrella bouncingoff the head of Arkady Apollonovich.     'Police!  Seize her!!'  Sempleyarov's wife shouted  in  such a terriblevoice that many hearts went cold.     And here the cat  also leaped out to the footlights and suddenly barkedin a human voice for all the theatre to hear:     The  seance is over!  Maestro!  Hack  out  a  march!'  The  half-crazedconductor, unaware  of what he was doing, waved his baton, and the orchestradid not play, or even strike up, or even bang away at, but precisely, in thecat's  loathsome  expression,  hacked  out  some   incredible  march  of  anunheard-of brashness.     For a  moment there was an illusion  of  having heard once upon a time,under  southern  stars,  in  a  cafe-chantant,  some  barely   intelligible,half-blind, but rollicking words to this march:     His Excellency reached the stage     Of liking barnyard fowl.     He took under his patronage     Three young girls and an owl!!!     Or maybe these were not  the words at all, but there were others to thesame music,  extremely indecent  ones. That is not the important  thing, theimportant thing is that, after all this, something like babel broke loose inthe  Variety. The police  went  running to  Sempleyarov's  box,  people wereclimbing  over the  barriers,  there  were bursts  of infernal guffawing andfurious shouts, drowned in the golden clash of the orchestra's cymbals.     And one  could  see  that the stage was  suddenly empty, and  that  thehoodwinker Fagott, as well as the brazen tom-cat Behemoth, had  melted  intoair,  vanished as the magician had vanished earlier in his armchair with thefaded upholstery.