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  "class": "domain",
  "identity": "D76FDAB0F9D31B265EDDBE77B6B516C844E71E93A720BEF5D892E6039BE4E38D",
  "confirmation": "007F81C6F991EACBAC1754311C10D9E5A332E00200767721829870483C7ECBF8",
  "signing": "0FD6DB8BEA6901A6498D39723EE07661EC22C2A75A15138D5676888BC4ACC4DE",
  "encryption": "AAB9726E514D4788BF327E7E5D1E23DF19C00E8F2BAA537EA10EC1D524D84103",
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    "encrypted": "9EEBA9DEB821B0C4361AE0286AFB7B8A9720AFAD197E9CFA1DD81FE672E65960DB5C6D829344F8311D0AC4F2B3D7A6D5481750116178E7B78CDB8C0DD9CF55F24C93106190619ACE",
    "zone": "merch",
    "info": "The Master and Margarita, BOOK 1, ch 9\nby Mikhail Bulgakov, 1891-1940\nTranslated by:\nRichard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky",
    "records": [
      {
        "type": "TXT",
        "domain": "maybe.merch",
        "data": "Chapter 9\nKoroviev\u2018s Stunts.\n Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy, chairman of the tenants\u2019 association of no. 302-\nbis on Sadovaya Street in Moscow, where the late Berlioz used to reside, had been\nhaving the most terrible troubles, starting from that Wednesday night.\n At midnight, as we already know, a commission of which Zheldybin formed a\npart came to the house, summoned Nikanor Ivanovich, told him about the death of\nBerlioz, and together with him went to apartment no. 50.\n There the sealing of the deceased\u2019s manuscripts and belongings was carried out.\nNeither Grunya, the daytime housekeeper, nor the light-minded Stepan\nBogdanovich was there at the time. The commission announced to Nikanor\nIvanovich that it would take the deceased\u2019s manuscripts for sorting out, that his\nliving space, that is, three rooms (the former study, living room and dining room of\nthe jeweller\u2019s wife), reverted to the disposal of the tenants\u2019 association, and that\nthe belongings were to be kept in the aforementioned living space until the heirs\nwere announced.\n The news of Berlioz\u2019s death spread through the whole house with a sort of\nsupernatural speed, and as of seven o\u2018clock Thursday morning, Bosoy began to\nreceive telephone calls and then personal visits with declarations containing\nclaims to the deceased\u2019s living space. In the period of two hours, Nikanor\nIvanovich received thirty-two such declarations.\n They contained pleas, threats, libels, denunciations, promises to do renovations\nat their own expense, references to unbearable overcrowding and the impossibility\nof living in the same apartment with bandits. Among others there were a\ndescription, staggering in its artistic power, of the theft from apartment no. 31 of\nsome meat dumplings, tucked directly into the pocket of a suit jacket, two vows to\nend life by suicide and one confession of secret pregnancy.\n Nikanor Ivanovich was called out to the front hall of his apartment, plucked by\nthe sleeve, whispered to, winked at, promised that he would not be left the loser.\n This torture went on until noon, when Nikanor Ivanovich simply fled his\napartment for the management office by the gate, but when he saw them lying in\nwait for him there, too, he fled that place as well. Having somehow shaken off\nthose who followed on his heels across the asphalt-paved courtyard, Nikanor\nIvanovich disappeared into the sixth entrance and went up to the fifth floor, where\nthis vile apartment no. 50 was located.\n After catching his breath on the landing, the corpulent Nikanor Ivanovich rang,\nbut no one opened for him. He rang again, and then again, and started grumbling\nand swearing quietly. Even then no one opened. His patience exhausted, Nikanor\nIvanovich took from his pocket a bunch of duplicate keys belonging to the house\nmanagement, opened the door with a sovereign hand, and went in.\n \u2018Hey, housekeeper!\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich cried in the semi-dark front hall.\n\u2018Grunya, or whatever your name is! \u2026 Are you here?\u2019\n No one responded.\n Then Nikanor Ivanovich took a folding ruler from his briefcase, removed the seal\nfrom the door to the study, and stepped in. Stepped in, yes, but halted in\namazement in the doorway and even gave a start.\n At the deceased\u2019s desk sat an unknown, skinny, long citizen in a little checkered\njacket, a jockey\u2019s cap, and a pince-nez \u2026 well, in short, that same one.\n \u2018And who might you be, citizen?\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich asked fearfully.\n \u2018Hah! Nikanor Ivanovich!\u2019 the unexpected citizen yelled in a rattling tenor and,\njumping up, greeted the chairman with a forced and sudden handshake. This\ngreeting by no means gladdened Nikanor Ivanovich.\n \u2018Excuse me,\u2019 he said suspiciously, \u2018but who might you be? Are you an official\nperson?\u2019\n \u2018Eh, Nikanor Ivanovich!\u2019 the unknown man exclaimed soulfully. \u2018What are\nofficial and unofficial persons? It all depends on your point of view on the subject.\nIt\u2019s all fluctuating and relative, Nikanor Ivanovich. Today I\u2019m an unofficial person,\nand tomorrow, lo and behold, I\u2019m an official one! And it also happens the other\nway round\u2014oh, how it does!\u2019\n This argument in no way satisfied the chairman of the house management.\nBeing a generally suspicious person by nature, he concluded that the man holding\nforth in front of him was precisely an unofficial person, and perhaps even an idle\none.\n \u2018Yes, but who might you be? What\u2019s your name?\u2019 the chairman inquired with\nincreasing severity and even began to advance upon the unknown man.\n \u2018My name,\u2019 the citizen responded, not a bit put out by the severity, \u2018well, let\u2019s say\nit\u2019s Koroviev. But wouldn\u2019t you like a little snack, Nikanor Ivanovich? No\nformalities, eh?\u2019\n \u2018Excuse me,\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich began, indignantly now, \u2018what have snacks got\nto do with it!\u2019 (We must confess, unpleasant as it is, that Nikanor Ivanovich was of\na somewhat rude nature.) \u2018Sitting in the deceased\u2019s half is not permitted! What are\nyou doing here?\u2019\n \u2018Have a seat, Nikanor Ivanovich,\u2019 the citizen went on yelling, not a bit at a loss,\nand began fussing about offering the chairman a seat.\n Utterly infuriated, Nikanor Ivanovich rejected the seat and screamed:\n \u2018But who are you?\u2019\n \u2018I, if you please, serve as interpreter for a foreign individual who has taken up\nresidence in this apartment,\u2019 the man calling himself Koroviev introduced himself\nand clicked the heels of his scuffed, unpolished shoes.\n Nikanor Ivanovich opened his mouth. The presence of some foreigner in this\napartment, with an interpreter to boot, came as a complete surprise to him, and\nhe demanded explanations.\n The interpreter explained willingly. A foreign artiste, Mr Woland, had been\nkindly invited by the director of the Variety, Stepan Bogdanovich Likhodeev, to\nspend the time of his performances, a week or so, in his apartment, about which\nhe had written to Nikanor Ivanovich yesterday, requesting that he register the\nforeigner as a temporary resident, while Likhodeev himself took a trip to Yalta.\n \u2018He never wrote me anything,\u2019 the chairman said in amazement.\n \u2018Just look through your briefcase, Nikanor Ivanovich,\u2019 Koroviev suggested\nsweetly.\n Nikanor Ivanovich, shrugging his shoulders, opened the briefcase and found\nLikhodeev\u2019s letter in it.\n \u2018How could I have forgotten about it?\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich muttered, looking dully\nat the opened envelope.\n \u2018All sorts of things happen, Nikanor Ivanovich, all sorts!\u2019 Koroviev rattled.\n\u2018Absent-mindedness, absent-mindedness, fatigue and high blood pressure, my\ndear friend Nikanor Ivanovich! I\u2019m terribly absent-minded myself! Someday, over a\nglass, I\u2019ll tell you a few facts from my biography\u2014you\u2019ll die laughing!\u2019\n \u2018And when is Likhodeev going to Yalta?\u2019\n \u2018He\u2019s already gone, gone!\u2019 the interpreter cried. \u2018He\u2019s already wheeling along, you\nknow! He\u2019s already devil knows where!\u2019 And here the interpreter waved his arms\nlike the wings of a windmill.\n Nikanor Ivanovich declared that he must see the foreigner in person, but got a\nrefusal on that from the interpreter. quite impossible. He\u2019s busy. Training the cat.\n \u2018The cat I can show you, if you like,\u2018 Koroviev offered.\n This Nikanor Ivanovich refused in his turn, and the interpreter straight away\nmade the chairman an unexpected but quite interesting proposal: seeing that Mr\nWoland had no desire whatsoever to live in a hotel, and was accustomed to having\na lot of space, why shouldn\u2019t the tenants\u2019 association rent to him, Woland, for one\nlittle week, the time of his performances in Moscow, the whole of the apartment,\nthat is, the deceased\u2019s rooms as well?\n It\u2019s all the same to him\u2014the deceased\u2014you must agree, Nikanor Ivanovich,\u2018\nKoroviev whispered hoarsely. \u2019He doesn\u2019t need the apartment now, does he?\u2018\n Nikanor Ivanovich, somewhat perplexed, objected that foreigners ought to live at\nthe Metropol, and not in private apartments at all\u2026\n \u2018I\u2019m telling you, he\u2019s capricious as devil knows what!\u2019 Koroviev whispered. \u2018He\njust doesn\u2019t want to! He doesn\u2019t like hotels! I\u2019ve had them up to here, these foreign\ntourists!\u2019 Koroviev complained confidentially, jabbing his finger at his sinewy neck.\n\u2018Believe me, they wring the soul right out of you! They come and either spy on you\nlike the lowest son of a bitch, or else torment you with their caprices\uf8e7this isn\u2019t\nright and that isn\u2019t right! \u2026 And for your association, Nikanor Ivanovich, it\u2019s a\nsheer gain and an obvious profit. He won\u2019t stint on money.\u2019 Koroviev looked\naround and then whispered into the chairman\u2019s ear: \u2018A millionaire!\u2019\n The interpreter\u2019s offer made clear practical sense, it was a very solid offer, yet\nthere was something remarkably unsolid in his manner of speaking, and in his\nclothes, and in that loathsome, good-for-nothing pince-nez. As a result, something\nvague weighed on the chairman\u2019s soul, but he nevertheless decided to accept the\noffer. The thing was that the tenants\u2019 association, alas, had quite a sizeable deficit.\nFuel had to be bought for the heating system by fall, but who was going to shell\nout for it\u2014no one knew. But with the foreign tourist\u2019s money, it might be possible\nto wriggle out of it. However, the practical and prudent Nikanor Ivanovich said he\nwould first have to settle the question with the foreign tourist bureau.\n \u2018I understand!\u2019 Koroviev cried out. \u2018You\u2019ve got to settle it! Absolutely! Here\u2019s the\ntelephone, Nikanor Ivanovich, settle it at once! And don\u2019t be shy about the money,\u2019\nhe added in a whisper, drawing the chairman to the telephone in the front hall, \u2018if\nhe won\u2019t pay, who will! You should see the villa he\u2019s got in Nice! Next summer,\nwhen you go abroad, come especially to see it\u2014you\u2019ll gasp!\u2019\n The business with the foreign tourist bureau was arranged over the phone with\nan extraordinary speed, quite amazing to the chairman. It turned out that they\nalready knew about Mr Woland\u2019s intention of staying in Likhodeev\u2019s private\napartment and had no objections to it.\n \u2018That\u2019s wonderful!\u2019 Koroviev yelled. Somewhat stunned by his chatter, the\nchairman announced that the tenants\u2019 association agreed to rent apartment no.\n50 for a week to the artiste Woland, for\u2026 Nikanor Ivanovich faltered a little, then\nsaid:\n \u2018For five hundred roubles a day.\u2019\n Here Koroviev utterly amazed the chairman. Winking thievishly in the direction\nof the bedroom, from which the soft leaps of a heavy cat could be heard, he rasped\nout:\n \u2018So it comes to three thousand five hundred for the week?\u2019\n To which Nikanor Ivanovich thought he was going to add: \u2018Some appetite you\u2019ve\ngot, Nikanor Ivanovich!\u2019 but Koroviev said something quite different:\n \u2018What kind of money is that? Ask five, he\u2019ll pay it.\u2019\n Grinning perplexedly, Nikanor Ivanovich, without noticing how, found himself at\nthe deceased\u2019s writing desk, where Koroviev with great speed and dexterity drew\nup a contract in two copies. Then he flew to the bedroom with them and came\nback, both copies now bearing the foreigner\u2019s sweeping signature. The chairman\nalso signed the contract. Here Koroviev asked for a receipt for five\u2026\n \u2018Write it out, write it out, Nikanor Ivanovich! \u2026 thousand roubles\u2026\u2019 And with\nwords somehow unsuited to serious business\uf8e7\u2018Ein, zwei, drei!\u2019\u2014he laid out for the\nchairman five stacks of new banknotes.\n The counting-up took place, interspersed with Koroviev\u2019s quips and quiddities,\nsuch as \u2018Cash loves counting\u2019, \u2018Your own eye won\u2019t lie\u2019, and others of the same\nsort.\n After counting the money, the chairman received from Koroviev the foreigner\u2019s\npassport for temporary registration, put it, together with the contract and the\nmoney, into his briefcase, and, somehow unable to help himself, sheepishly asked\nfor a free pass\u2026\n \u2018Don\u2019t mention it!\u2019 bellowed Koroviev. \u2018How many tickets do you want, Nikanor\nIvanovich\u2014twelve, fifteen?\u2019\n The flabbergasted chairman explained that all he needed was a couple of\npasses, for himself and Pelageya Antonovna, his wife.\n Koroviev snatched out a notebook at once and dashed off a pass for Nikanor\nIvanovich, for two persons in the front row. And with his left hand the interpreter\ndeftly slipped this pass to Nikanor Ivanovich, while with his right he put into the\nchairman\u2019s other hand a thick, crackling wad. Casting an eye on it, Nikanor\nIvanovich blushed deeply and began to push it away.\n \u2018It isn\u2019t done\u2026\u2019 he murmured.\n \u2018I won\u2019t hear of it,\u2019 Koroviev whispered right in his ear. \u2018With us it\u2019s not done, but\nwith foreigners it is. You\u2019ll offend him, Nikanor Ivanovich, and that\u2019s\nembarrassing. You\u2019ve worked hard\u2026\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s severely punishable,\u2019 the chairman whispered very, very softly and glanced\nover his shoulder.\n \u2018But where are the witnesses?\u2019 Koroviev whispered into his other ear. \u2018I ask you,\nwhere are they? You don\u2019t think\u2026?\u2019\n Here, as the chairman insisted afterwards, a miracle occurred: the wad crept\ninto his briefcase by itself. And then the chairman, somehow limp and even\nbroken, found himself on the stairs. A whirlwind of thoughts raged in his head.\nThere was the villa in Nice, and the trained cat, and the thought that there were in\nfact no witnesses, and that Pelageya Antonovna would be delighted with the pass.\nThey were incoherent thoughts, but generally pleasant. But, all the same,\nsomewhere, some little needle kept pricking the chairman in the very bottom of his\nsoul. This was the needle of anxiety. Besides, right then on the stairs the\nchairman was seized, as with a stroke, by the thought: \u2018But how did the\ninterpreter get into the study if the door was sealed?! And how was it that he,\nNikanor Ivanovich, had not asked about it?\u2019 For some time the chairman stood\nstaring like a sheep at the steps of the stairway, but then he decided to spit on it\nand not torment himself with intricate questions\u2026\n As soon as the chairman left the apartment, a low voice came from the bedroom:\n \u2018I didn\u2019t like this Nikanor Ivanovich. He is a chiseller and a crook. Can it be\narranged so that he doesn\u2019t come any more?\u2019\n \u2018Messire, you have only to say the word\u2026\u2019 Koroviev responded from somewhere,\nnot in a rattling but in a very clear and resounding voice.\n And at once the accursed interpreter turned up in the front hall, dialled a\nnumber there, and for some reason began speaking very tearfully into the receiver:\n \u2018Hello! I consider it my duty to inform you that the chairman of our tenants\u2019\nassociation at no. 302-bis on Sadovaya, Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy, is speculating in\nforeign currency. At the present moment, in his apartment no. 35, he has\nfour hundred dollars wrapped up in newspaper in the ventilation of the privy. This\nis Timofei Kvastsov speaking, a tenant of the said house, apartment no. 11. But I\nadjure you to keep my name a secret. I fear the vengeance of the above-stated\nchairman.\u2019\n And he hung up, the scoundrel!\n What happened next in apartment no. 50 is not known, but it is known what\nhappened at Nikanor Ivanovich\u2019s. Having locked himself in the privy with the\nhook, he took from his briefcase the wad foisted on him by the interpreter and\nsatisfied himself that it contained four hundred roubles. Nikanor Ivanovich\nwrapped this wad in a scrap of newspaper and put it into the ventilation duct.\n Five minutes later the chairman was sitting at the table in his small dining\nroom. His wife brought pickled herring from the kitchen, neatly sliced and thickly\nsprinkled with green onion. Nikanor Ivanovich poured himself a dram of vodka,\ndrank it, poured another, drank it, picked up three pieces of herring on his fork \u2026\nand at that moment the doorbell rang. Pelageya Antonovna was just bringing in a\nsteaming pot which, one could tell at once from a single glance, contained, amidst\na fiery borscht, that than which there is nothing more delicious in the world\u2014a\nmarrow bone.\n Swallowing his spittle, Nikanor Ivanovich growled like a dog:\n \u2018Damn them all! Won\u2019t allow a man to eat\u2026 Don\u2019t let anyone in, I\u2019m not here,\nnot here\u2026 If it\u2019s about the apartment, tell them to stop blathering, there\u2019ll be a\nmeeting next week.\u2019\n His wife ran to the front hall, while Nikanor Ivanovich, using a ladle, drew from\nthe fire-breathing lake\uf8e7it, the bone, cracked lengthwise. And at that moment two\ncitizens entered the dining room, with Pelageya Antonovna following them, for\nsome reason looking very pale. Seeing the citizens, Nikanor Ivanovich also turned\nwhite and stood up.\n \u2018Where\u2019s the jakes?\u2019 the first one, in a white side-buttoned shirt, asked with a\npreoccupied air.\n Something thudded against the dining table (this was Nikanor Ivanovich\ndropping the ladle on to the oilcloth).\n This way, this way,\u2018 Pelageya Antonovna replied in a patter.\n And the visitors immediately hastened to the corridor.\n \u2018What\u2019s the matter?\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich asked quietly, going after the visitors.\nThere can\u2019t be anything like that in our apartment\u2026 And\u2014your papers \u2026 begging\nyour pardon\u2026\u2018\n The first, without stopping, showed Nikanor Ivanovich a paper, and the second\nwas at the same moment standing on a stool in the privy, his arm in the\nventilation duct. Everything went dark in Nikanor Ivanovich\u2019s eyes. The newspaper\nwas removed, but in the wad there were not roubles but some unknown money,\nbluish-greenish, and with the portrait of some old man. However, Nikanor\nIvanovich saw it all dimly, there were some sort of spots floating in front of his\neyes.\n \u2018Dollars in the ventilation\u2026\u2019 the first said pensively and asked Nikanor\nIvanovich gently and courteously: Tour little wad?\u2018\n \u2018No!\u2019 Nikanor Ivanovich replied in a dreadful voice. \u2018Enemies stuck me with it!\u2019\n That happens,\u2018 the first agreed and added, again gently: \u2019Well, you\u2019re going to\nhave to turn in the rest.\u2018\n \u2018I haven\u2019t got any! I swear to God, I never laid a finger on it!\u2019 the chairman cried\nout desperately.\n He dashed to the chest, pulled a drawer out with a clatter, and from it the\nbriefcase, crying out incoherently:\n \u2018Here\u2019s the contract\u2026 that vermin of an interpreter stuck me with it \u2026 Koroviev\n\u2026 in a pince-nez!\u2026\u2019\n He opened the briefcase, glanced into it, put a hand inside, went blue in the\nface, and dropped the briefcase into the borscht. There was nothing in the\nbriefcase: no letter from Styopa, no contract, no foreigner\u2019s passport, no money, no\ntheatre pass. In short, nothing except a folding ruler.\n \u2018Comrades!\u2019 the chairman cried frenziedly. \u2018Catch them! There are unclean\npowers in our house!\u2019\n It is not known what Pelageya Antonovna imagined here, only she clasped her\nhands and cried:\n \u2018Repent, Ivanych! You\u2019ll get off lighter.\u2019\n His eyes bloodshot, Nikanor Ivanovich raised his fists over his wife\u2019s head,\ncroaking:\n \u2018Ohh, you damned fool!\u2019\n Here he went slack and sank down on a chair, evidently resolved to submit to\nthe inevitable.\n During this time, Timofei Kondratievich Kvastsov stood on the landing, placing\nnow his ear, now his eye to the keyhole of the door to the chairman\u2019s apartment,\nmelting with curiosity.\n Five minutes later the tenants of the house who were in the courtyard saw the\nchairman, accompanied by two other persons, proceed directly to the gates of the\nhouse. It was said that Nikanor Ivanovich looked awful, staggered like a drunk\nman as he passed, and was muttering something.\n And an hour after that an unknown citizen appeared in apartment no. 11, just\nas Timofei Kondratievich, spluttering with delight, was telling some other tenants\nhow the chairman got pinched, motioned to Timofei Kondratievich with his finger\nto come from the kitchen to the front hall, said something to him, and together\nthey vanished. \n\n",
        "ttl": 3600
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