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  "identity": "D76FDAB0F9D31B265EDDBE77B6B516C844E71E93A720BEF5D892E6039BE4E38D",
  "confirmation": "007F81C6F991EACBAC1754311C10D9E5A332E00200767721829870483C7ECBF8",
  "signing": "0FD6DB8BEA6901A6498D39723EE07661EC22C2A75A15138D5676888BC4ACC4DE",
  "encryption": "AAB9726E514D4788BF327E7E5D1E23DF19C00E8F2BAA537EA10EC1D524D84103",
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    "encrypted": "F78D9BBD1EBE3621CD82D409AF044A9BCE5F8F9456412B01CE14EBAC0829B7C7F1BAABED7574FD1BDACC817AEB6397ABDD00B5585D4B6972A93A82E99BC6936FF5A163F8F7338A4B",
    "zone": "merch",
    "info": "The Master and Margarita, BOOK 1, ch 3\nby Mikhail Bulgakov, 1891-1940\nTranslated by:\nRichard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky",
    "records": [
      {
        "type": "TXT",
        "domain": "maybe.merch",
        "data": "Chapter 3\nThe Seventh Proof.\n \u2018Yes, it was around ten o\u2019clock in the morning, my esteemed Ivan Nikolaevich,\u2018\nsaid the professor.\n 1 The poet passed his hand over his face like a man just coming to his senses,\nand saw that it was evening at the Patriarch\u2019s Ponds. The water in the pond had\nturned black, and a light boat was now gliding on it, and one could hear the\nsplash of oars and the giggles of some citizeness in the little boat. The public\nappeared on the benches along the walks, but again on the other three sides of the\nsquare, and not on the side where our interlocutors were.\n The sky over Moscow seemed to lose colour, and the full moon could be seen\nquite distinctly high above, not yet golden but white. It was much easier to\nbreathe, and the voices under the lindens now sounded softer, eveningish.\n \u2018How is it I didn\u2019t notice that he\u2019d managed to spin a whole story?\u2026\u2019 Homeless\nthought in amazement. \u2018It\u2019s already evening! \u2026 Or maybe he wasn\u2019t telling it, but I\nsimply fell asleep and dreamed it all?\u2019\n But it must be supposed that the professor did tell the story after all, otherwise\nit would have to be assumed that Berlioz had had the same dream, because he\nsaid, studying the foreigner\u2019s face attentively:\n \u2018Your story is extremely interesting, Professor, though it does not coincide at all\nwith the Gospel stories.\u2019\n \u2018Good heavens,\u2019 the professor responded, smiling condescendingly, \u2018you of all\npeople should know that precisely nothing of what is written in the Gospels ever\nactually took place, and if we start referring to the Gospels as a historical source...\u2019\nhe smiled once more, and Berlioz stopped short, because this was literally the\nsame thing he had been saying to Homeless as they walked down Bronnaya\ntowards the Patriarch\u2019s Ponds.\n \u2018That\u2019s so,\u2019 Berlioz replied, \u2018but I\u2019m afraid no one can confirm that what you\u2019ve\njust told us actually took place either.\u2019\n \u2018Oh, yes! That there is one who can!\u2019 the professor, beginning to speak in broken\nlanguage, said with great assurance, and with unexpected mysteriousness he\nmotioned the two friends to move closer.\n They leaned towards him from both sides, and he said, but again without any\naccent, which with him, devil knows why, now appeared, now disappeared:\n \u2018The thing is\u2026\u2019 here the professor looked around fearfully and spoke in a\nwhisper, \u2018that I was personally present at it all. I was on Pontius Pilate\u2019s balcony,\nand in the garden when he talked with Kaifa, and on the platform, only secretly,\nincognito, so to speak, and therefore I beg you not a word to anyone, total\nsecrecy, shh\u2026\u2019\n Silence fell, and Berlioz paled.\n \u2018You \u2026 how long have you been in Moscow?\u2019 he asked in a quavering voice.\n \u2018I just arrived in Moscow this very minute,\u2019 the professor said perplexedly, and\nonly here did it occur to the friends to take a good look in his eyes, at which they\nbecame convinced that his left eye, the green one, was totally insane, while the\nright one was empty, black and dead.\n \u2018There\u2019s the whole explanation for you!\u2019 Berlioz thought in bewilderment. \u2018A mad\nGerman has turned up, or just went crazy at the Ponds. What a story!\u2019\n Yes, indeed, that explained the whole thing: the most strange breakfast with the\nlate philosopher Kant, the foolish talk about sunflower oil and Annushka, the\npredictions about his head being cut off and all the rest\u2014the professor was mad.\n Berlioz realized at once what had to be done. Leaning back on the bench, he\nwinked to Homeless behind the professor\u2019s back\u2014meaning, don\u2019t contradict him\u2014\nbut the perplexed poet did not understand these signals.\n \u2018Yes, yes, yes,\u2019 Berlioz said excitedly, \u2018incidentally it\u2019s all possible \u2026 even very\npossible, Pontius Pilate, and the balcony, and so forth\u2026 Did you come alone or\nwith your wife?\u2019\n \u2018Alone, alone, I\u2019m always alone,\u2019 the professor replied bitterly.\n \u2018And where are your things, Professor?\u2019 Berlioz asked insinuatingly. \u2018At the\nMetropol? Where are you staying?\u2019\n \u2018I? \u2026 Nowhere,\u2019 the half-witted German answered, his green eye wandering in\nwild anguish over the Patriarch\u2019s Ponds.\n \u2018How\u2019s that? But \u2026 where are you going to live?\u2019\n \u2018In your apartment,\u2019 the madman suddenly said brashly, and winked.\n \u2018I \u2026 I\u2019m very glad\u2026\u2019 Berlioz began muttering, \u2018but, really, you won\u2019t be\ncomfortable at my place \u2026 and they have wonderful rooms at the Metropol, it\u2019s a\nfirst-class hotel\u2026\u2019\n \u2018And there\u2019s no devil either?\u2019 the sick man suddenly inquired merrily of Ivan\nNikolaevich.\n \u2018No devil\u2026\u2019\n \u2018Don\u2019t contradict him,\u2019 Berlioz whispered with his lips only, dropping behind the\nprofessor\u2019s back and making faces.\n \u2018There isn\u2019t any devil!\u2019 Ivan Nikolaevich, at a loss from all this balderdash, cried\nout not what he ought. \u2018What a punishment! Stop playing the psycho!\u2019\n Here the insane man burst into such laughter that a sparrow flew out of the\nlinden over the seated men\u2019s heads.\n \u2018Well, now that is positively interesting!\u2019 the professor said, shaking with\nlaughter. \u2018What is it with you\u2014no matter what one asks for, there isn\u2019t any!\u2019 He\nsuddenly stopped laughing and, quite understandably for a mentally ill person, fell\ninto the opposite extreme after laughing, became vexed and cried sternly: \u2018So you\nmean there just simply isn\u2019t any?\u2019\n \u2018Calm down, calm down, calm down, Professor,\u2019 Berlioz muttered, for fear of\nagitating the sick man. \u2018You sit here for a little minute with Comrade Homeless,\nand I\u2019ll just run to the comer to make a phone call, and then we\u2019ll take you\nwherever you like. You don\u2019t know the city\u2026\u2019\n Berlioz\u2019s plan must be acknowledged as correct: he had to run to the nearest\npublic telephone and inform the foreigners\u2019 bureau, thus and so, there\u2019s some\nconsultant from abroad sitting at the Patriarch\u2019s Ponds in an obviously abnormal\nstate. So it was necessary to take measures, lest some unpleasant nonsense\nresult.\n \u2018To make a call? Well, then make your call,\u2019 the sick man agreed sadly, and\nsuddenly begged passionately: \u2018But I implore you, before you go, at least believe\nthat the devil exists! I no longer ask you for anything more. Mind you, there exists\na seventh proof of it, the surest of all! And it is going to be presented to you right\nnow!\u2019\n \u2018Very good, very good,\u2019 Berlioz said with false tenderness and, winking to the\nupset poet, who did not relish at all the idea of guarding the mad German, set out\nfor the exit from the Ponds at the comer of Bronnaya and Yermolaevsky Lane.\n And the professor seemed to recover his health and brighten up at once.\n \u2018Mikhail Alexandrovich!\u2019 he shouted after Berlioz.\n The latter gave a start, looked back, but reassured himself with the thought that\nthe professor had also learned his name and patronymic from some newspaper.\n Then the professor called out, cupping his hands like a megaphone:\n \u2018Would you like me to have a telegram sent at once to your uncle in Kiev?\u2019\n And again Berlioz winced. How does the madman know about the existence of a\nKievan uncle? That has certainly never been mentioned in any newspapers. Ohoh, maybe Homeless is right after all? And suppose his papers are phoney? Ah,\nwhat a strange specimen\u2026 Call, call! Call at once! They\u2019ll quickly explain him!\n And, no longer listening to anything, Berlioz ran on.\n Here, just at the exit to Bronnaya, there rose from a bench to meet the editor\nexactly the same citizen who in the sunlight earlier had formed himself out of the\nthick swelter. Only now he was no longer made of air, but ordinary, fleshly, and\nBerlioz clearly distinguished in the beginning twilight that he had a little\nmoustache like chicken feathers, tiny eyes, ironic and half drunk, and checkered\ntrousers pulled up so high that his dirty white socks showed.\n Mikhail Alexandrovich drew back, but reassured himself by reflecting that it\nwas a stupid coincidence and that generally there was no time to think about it\nnow.\n \u2018Looking for the turnstile, citizen?\u2019 the checkered type inquired in a cracked\ntenor. \u2018This way, please! Straight on and you\u2019ll get where you\u2019re going. How about\na little pint pot for my information \u2026 to set up an ex-choirmaster!\u2026\u2019 Mugging, the\nspecimen swept his jockey\u2019s cap from his head.\n Berlioz, not stopping to listen to the cadging and clowning choirmaster, ran up\nto the turnstile and took hold of it with his hand. He turned it and was just about\nto step across the rails when red and white light splashed in his face. A sign lit up\nin a glass box: \u2018Caution Tram-Car!\u2019\n And right then this tram-car came racing along, turning down the newly laid\nline from Yermolaevsky to Bronnaya. Having turned, and coming to the straight\nstretch, it suddenly lit up inside with electricity, whined, and put on speed.\n The prudent Berlioz, though he was standing in a safe place, decided to retreat\nbehind the stile, moved his hand on the crossbar, and stepped back. And right\nthen his hand slipped and slid, one foot, unimpeded, as if on ice, went down the\ncobbled slope leading to the rails, the other was thrust into the air, and Berlioz\nwas thrown on to the rails.\n Trying to get hold of something, Berlioz fell backwards, the back of his head\nlightly striking the cobbles, and had time to see high up\u2014but whether to right or\nleft he no longer knew\u2014the gold-tinged moon. He managed to turn on his side, at\nthe same moment drawing his legs to his stomach in a frenzied movement, and,\nwhile turning, to make out the face, completely white with horror, and the crimson\narmband of the woman driver bearing down on him with irresistible force. Berlioz\ndid not cry out, but around him the whole street screamed with desperate female\nvoices.\n The woman driver tore at the electric brake, the car dug its nose into the\nground, then instantly jumped up, and glass flew from the windows with a crash\nand a jingle. Here someone in Berlioz\u2019s brain cried desperately: \u2018Can it be?\u2026\u2019 Once\nmore, and for the last time, the moon flashed, but now breaking to pieces, and\nthen it became dark.\n The tram-car went over Berlioz, and a round dark object was thrown up the\ncobbled slope below the fence of the Patriarch\u2019s walk. Having rolled back down this\nslope, it went bouncing along the cobblestones of the street.\n It was the severed head of Berlioz. \n",
        "ttl": 3600
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    ]
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}