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  "identity": "D76FDAB0F9D31B265EDDBE77B6B516C844E71E93A720BEF5D892E6039BE4E38D",
  "confirmation": "007F81C6F991EACBAC1754311C10D9E5A332E00200767721829870483C7ECBF8",
  "signing": "0FD6DB8BEA6901A6498D39723EE07661EC22C2A75A15138D5676888BC4ACC4DE",
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    "encrypted": "D1354D6E013EF73147B9CC307AEBDE2AFD17A9BBBC3038BFD0F0B337DAEC3165AAA78A519BB77B8B61F91D36C46C773A9A528B69FD409BA6A04007A3A28A3BC5E30344A77389C571",
    "zone": "merch",
    "info": "The Master and Margarita, BOOK 1, ch 10\nby Mikhail Bulgakov, 1891-1940\nTranslated by:\nRichard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky",
    "records": [
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        "domain": "maybe.merch",
        "data": "Chapter 10\nNews From Yalta.\n At the same time that disaster struck Nikanor Ivanovich, not far away from no.\n302-bis, on the same Sadovaya Street, in the office of the financial director of the\nVariety Theatre, Rimsky, there sat two men: Rimsky himself, and the\nadministrator of the Variety, Varenukha.\n The big office on the second floor of the theatre had two windows on Sadovaya\nand one, just behind the back of the findirector, who was sitting at his desk,\nfacing the summer garden of the Variety, where there were refreshment stands, a\nshooting gallery and an open-air stage. The furnishings of the office, apart from\nthe desk, consisted of a bunch of old posters hanging on the wall, a small table\nwith a carafe of water on it, four armchairs and, in the corner, a stand on which\nstood a dust-covered scale model of some past review. Well, it goes without saying\nthat, in addition, there was in the office a small, shabby, peeling fireproof safe, to\nRimsky\u2019s left, next to the desk.\n Rimsky, now sitting at his desk, had been in bad spirits since morning, while\nVarenukha, on the contrary, was very animated and somehow especially restlessly\nactive. Yet there was no outlet for his energy.\n Varenukha was presently hiding in the findirector\u2019s office to escape the seekers\nof free passes, who poisoned his life, especially on days when the programme\nchanged. And today was precisely such a day. As soon as the telephone started to\nring, Varenukha would pick up the receiver and lie into it:\n \u2018Who? Varenukha? He\u2019s not here. He stepped out.\u2019\n \u2018Please call Likhodeev again,\u2019 Rimsky asked vexedly.\n \u2018He\u2019s not home. I even sent Karpov, there\u2019s no one in the apartment.\u2019\n \u2018Devil knows what\u2019s going on!\u2019 Rimsky hissed, clacking on the adding machine.\n The door opened and an usher dragged in a thick stack of freshly printed extra\nposters; in big red letters on a green background was printed:\nToday and Every Day at the Variety Theatre\nan Additional Programme\nPROFESSOR WOLAND\nSeances of Black Magic and its Full Exposure\nVarenukha stepped back from the poster, which he had thrown on to the scale\nmodel, admired it, and told the usher to send all the posters out immediately to be\npasted up.\n \u2018Good \u2026 Loud!\u2019 Varenukha observed on the usher\u2019s departure.\n \u2018And I dislike this undertaking extremely,\u2019 Rimsky grumbled, glancing spitefully\nat the poster through his horn-rimmed glasses, \u2018and generally I\u2019m surprised he\u2019s\nbeen allowed to present it.\u2019\n \u2018No, Grigory Danilovich, don\u2019t say so! This is a very subtle step. The salt is all in\nthe exposure.\u2019\n \u2018I don\u2019t know, I don\u2019t know, there\u2019s no salt, in my opinion \u2026 and he\u2019s always\ncoming up with things like this! \u2026 He might at least show us his magician! Have\nyou seen him? Where he dug him up, devil knows!\u2019\n It turned out that Varenukha had not seen the magician any more than Rimsky\nhad. Yesterday Styopa had come running (\u2018like crazy\u2019, in Rimsky\u2019s expression) to\nthe findirector with the already written draft of a contract, ordered it copied\nstraight away and the money handed over to Woland. And this magician had\ncleared out, and no one had seen him except Styopa himself.\n Rimsky took out his watch, saw that it read five minutes past two, and flew into\na complete rage. Really! Likhodeev had called at around eleven, said he\u2019d come in\nhalf an hour, and not only had not come, but had disappeared from his\napartment.\n \u2018He\u2019s holding up my business!\u2019 Rimsky was roaring now, jabbing his finger at a\npile of unsigned papers.\n \u2018Might he have fallen under a tram-car like Berlioz?\u2019 Varenukha said as he held\nhis ear to the receiver, from which came low, prolonged and utterly hopeless\nsignals.\n \u2018Wouldn\u2019t be a bad thing\u2026\u2019 Rimsky said barely audibly through his teeth.\n At that same moment a woman in a uniform jacket, visored cap, black skirt and\nsneakers came into the office. From a small pouch at her belt the woman took a\nsmall white square and a notebook and asked:\n \u2018Who here is Variety? A super-lightning telegram. Sign here.\u2019\n Varenukha scribbled some flourish in the woman\u2019s notebook, and as soon as\nthe door slammed behind her, he opened the square. After reading the telegram,\nhe blinked and handed the square to Rimsky.\n The telegram contained the following: \u2018Yalta to Moscow Variety. Today eleven\nthirty brown-haired man came criminal investigation nightshirt trousers shoeless\nmental case gave name Likhodeev Director Variety Wire Yalta criminal\ninvestigation where Director Likhodeev.\u2019\n \u2018Hello and how do you do!\u2019 Rimsky exclaimed, and added: \u2018Another surprise!\u2019\n \u2018A false Dmitri!\u2019 said Varenukha, and he spoke into the receiver. Telegraph\noffice? Variety account. Take a super-lightning telegram. Are you listening? \u201cYalta\ncriminal investigation. Director Likhodeev Moscow Findirector Rimsky.\u201d\u2018\n Irrespective of the news about the Yalta impostor, Varenukha again began\nsearching all over for Styopa by telephone, and naturally did not find him\nanywhere.\n Just as Varenukha, receiver in hand, was pondering where else he might call,\nthe same woman who had brought the first telegram came in and handed\nVarenukha a new envelope. Opening it hurriedly, Varenukha read the message\nand whistled.\n \u2018What now?\u2019 Rimsky asked, twitching nervously.\n Varenukha silently handed him the telegram, and the findirector saw there the\nwords: \u2018Beg believe thrown Yalta Woland hypnosis wire criminal investigation\nconfirm identity Likhodeev.\u2019\n Rimsky and Varenukha, their heads touching, reread the telegram, and after\nrereading it, silently stared at each other.\n \u2018Citizens!\u2019 the woman got angry. \u2018Sign, and then be silent as much as you like! I\ndeliver lightnings!\u2019\n Varenukha, without taking his eyes off the telegram, made a crooked scrawl in\nthe notebook, and the woman vanished.\n \u2018Didn\u2019t you talk with him on the phone at a little past eleven?\u2019 the administrator\nbegan in total bewilderment.\n \u2018No, it\u2019s ridiculous!\u2019 Rimsky cried shrilly. Talk or not, he can\u2019t be in Yalta now!\nIt\u2019s ridiculous!\u2018\n \u2018He\u2019s drunk\u2026\u2019 said Varenukha.\n \u2018Who\u2019s drunk?\u2019 asked Rimsky, and again the two stared at each other.\n That some impostor or madman had sent telegrams from Yalta, there was no\ndoubt. But the strange thing was this: how did the Yalta mystifier know Woland,\nwho had come to Moscow just the day before? How did he know about the\nconnection between Likhodeev and Woland?\n \u2018Hypnosis\u2026\u2019 Varenukha kept repeating the word from the telegram. \u2018How does\nhe know about Woland?\u2019 He blinked his eyes and suddenly cried resolutely: \u2018Ah,\nno! Nonsense! \u2026 Nonsense, nonsense!\u2019\n \u2018Where\u2019s he staying, this Woland, devil take him?\u2019 asked Rimsky.\n Varenukha immediately got connected with the foreign tourist bureau and, to\nRimsky\u2019s utter astonishment, announced that Woland was staying in Likhodeev\u2019s\napartment. Dialling the number of the Likhodeev apartment after that, Varenukha\nlistened for a long time to the low buzzing in the receiver. Amidst the buzzing, from\nsomewhere far away, came a heavy, gloomy voice singing: \u2018\u2026rocks, my refuge\u2026\u2019\nand Varenukha decided that the telephone lines had crossed with a voice from\na radio show.\n \u2018The apartment doesn\u2019t answer,\u2019 Varenukha said, putting down the receiver, \u2018or\nmaybe I should call\u2026\u2019\n He did not finish. The same woman appeared in the door, and both men,\nRimsky and Varenukha, rose to meet her, while she took from her pouch not a\nwhite sheet this time, but some sort of dark one.\n This is beginning to get interesting,\u2018 Varenukha said through his teeth, his eyes\nfollowing the hurriedly departing woman. Rimsky was the first to take hold of the\nsheet.\n On a dark background of photographic paper, some black handwritten lines\nwere barely discernible:\n \u2018Proof my handwriting my signature wire urgently confirmation place secret\nwatch Woland Likhodeev.\u2019\n In his twenty years of work in the theatre, Varenukha had seen all kinds of\nsights, but here he felt his mind becoming obscured as with a veil, and he could\nfind nothing to say but the at once mundane and utterly absurd phrase:\n \u2018This cannot be!\u2019\n Rimsky acted otherwise. He stood up, opened the door, barked out to the\nmessenger girl sitting on a stool:\n \u2018Let no one in except postmen!\u2019\u2014and locked the door with a key.\n Then he took a pile of papers out of the desk and began carefully to compare the\nbold, back-slanting letters of the photogram with the letters in Styopa\u2019s\nresolutions and signatures, furnished with a corkscrew flourish. Varenukha,\nleaning his weight on the table, breathed hotly on Rimsky\u2019s cheek.\n \u2018It\u2019s his handwriting,\u2019 the findirector finally said firmly, and Varenukha repeated\nlike an echo:\n \u2018His.\u2019\n Peering into Rimsky\u2019s face, the administrator marvelled at the change that had\ncome over this face. Thin to begin with, the findirector seemed to have grown still\nthinner and even older, his eyes in their horn rims had lost their customary\nprickliness, and there appeared in them not only alarm, but even sorrow.\n Varenukha did everything that a man in a moment of great astonishment ought\nto do. He raced up and down the office, he raised his arms twice like one crucified,\nhe drank a whole glass of yellowish water from the carafe and exclaimed:\n \u2018I don\u2019t understand! I don\u2019t understand! I don\u2019t un-der-stand!\u2019\n Rimsky meanwhile was looking out the window, thinking hard about something.\nThe findirector\u2019s position was very difficult. It was necessary at once, right on the\nspot, to invent ordinary explanations for extraordinary phenomena.\n Narrowing his eyes, the findirector pictured to himself Styopa, in a nightshirt\nand shoeless, getting into some unprecedented super-highspeed airplane at\naround half past eleven that morning, and then the same Styopa, also at half past\neleven, standing in his stocking feet at the airport in Yalta \u2026 devil knew what to\nmake of it!\n Maybe it was not Styopa who talked with him this morning over the phone from\nhis own apartment? No, it was Styopa speaking! Who if not he should know\nStyopa\u2019s voice? And even if it was not Styopa speaking today, it was no earlier\nthan yesterday, towards evening, that Styopa had come from his office to this very\noffice with this idiotic contract and annoyed the findirector with his lightmindedness. How could he have gone or flown away without leaving word at the\ntheatre? But if he had flown away yesterday evening - he would not have arrived\nby noon today. Or would he?\n \u2018How many miles is it to Yalta?\u2019 asked Rimsky.\n Varenukha stopped his running and yelled:\n \u2018I thought of that! I already thought of it! By train it\u2019s over nine hundred miles to\nSebastopol, plus another fifty to Yalta! Well, but by air, of course, it\u2019s less.\u2019\n Hm\u2026 Yes\u2026 There could be no question of any trains. But what then? Some\nfighter plane? Who would let Styopa on any fighter plane without his shoes? What\nfor? Maybe he took his shoes off when he got to Yalta? It\u2019s the same thing: what\nfor? And even with his shoes on they wouldn\u2019t have let him on a fighter! And what\nhas the fighter got to do with it? It\u2019s written that he came to the investigators at\nhalf past eleven in the morning, and he talked on the telephone in Moscow \u2026\nexcuse me \u2026 (the face of Rimsky\u2019s watch emerged before his eyes).\n Rimsky tried to remember where the hands had been\u2026 Terrible! It had been\ntwenty minutes past eleven!\n So what does it boil down to? If one supposes that after the conversation Styopa\ninstantly rushed to the airport, and reached it in, say, five minutes (which,\nincidentally, was also unthinkable), it means that the plane, taking off at once,\ncovered nearly a thousand miles in five minutes. Consequently, it was flying at\ntwelve thousand miles an hour!!! That cannot be, and that means he\u2019s not in\nYalta!\n What remains, then? Hypnosis? There\u2019s no hypnosis in the world that can fling\na man a thousand miles away! So he\u2019s imagining that he\u2019s in Yalta? He may be\nimagining it, but are the Yalta investigators also imagining it? No, no, sorry, that\ncan\u2019t be! \u2026 Yet they did telegraph from there?\n The findirector\u2019s face was literally dreadful. The door handle was all the while\nbeing turned and pulled from outside, and the messenger girl could be heard\nthrough the door crying desperately:\n \u2018Impossible! I won\u2019t let you! Cut me to pieces! It\u2019s a meeting!\u2019\n Rimsky regained control of himself as well as he could, took the receiver of the\nphone, and said into it:\n \u2018A super-urgent call to Yalta, please.\u2019\n \u2018Clever!\u2019 Varenukha observed mentally.\n But the conversation with Yalta did not take place. Rimsky hung up the receiver\nand said:\n \u2018As luck would have it, the line\u2019s broken.\u2019\n It could be seen that the broken line especially upset him for some reason, and\neven made him lapse into thought. Having thought a little, he again took the\nreceiver in one hand, and with the other began writing down what he said into it:\n Take a super-lightning. Variety. Yes. Yalta criminal investigation. Yes. \u201cToday\naround eleven thirty Likhodeev talked me phone Moscow stop After that did not\ncome work unable locate by phone stop Confirm handwriting stop Taking\nmeasures watch said artiste Findirector Rimsky.\u201d\u2018\n \u2018Very clever!\u2019 thought Varenukha, but before he had time to think well, the\nwords rushed through his head: \u2018Stupid! He can\u2019t be in Yalta!\u2019\n Rimsky meanwhile did the following: he neatly stacked all the received\ntelegrams, plus the copy of his own, put the stack into an envelope, sealed it,\nwrote a few words on it, and handed it to Varenukha, saying:\n \u2018Go right now, Ivan Savelyevich, take it there personally. Let them sort it\nout.\u2019\n \u2018Now that is really clever!\u2019 thought Varenukha, and he put the envelope into his\nbriefcase. Then, just in case, he dialled Styopa\u2019s apartment number on the\ntelephone, listened, and began winking and grimacing joyfully and mysteriously.\nRimsky stretched his neck.\n \u2018May I speak with the artiste Woland?\u2019 Varenukha asked sweetly.\n \u2018Mister\u2019s busy,\u2019 the receiver answered in a rattling voice, \u2018who\u2019s calling?\u2019\n The administrator of the Variety, Varenukha.\u2018\n \u2018Ivan Savelyevich?\u2019 the receiver cried out joyfully. Terribly glad to hear your\nvoice! How\u2019re you doing?\u2018\n \u2018Merci,\u2019 Varenukha replied in amazement, \u2018and with whom am I speaking?\u2019\n \u2018His assistant, his assistant and interpreter, Koroviev!\u2019 crackled the receiver. \u2018I\u2019m\nentirely at your service, my dearest Ivan Savelyevich! Order me around as you like.\nAnd so?\u2019\n \u2018Excuse me, but \u2026 what, is Stepan Bogdanovich Likhodeev not at home now?\u2019\n \u2018Alas, no! No!\u2019 the receiver shouted. \u2018He left!\u2019\n \u2018For where?\u2019\n \u2018Out of town, for a drive in the car.\u2019\n \u2018Wh \u2026 what? A dr \u2026 drive? And when will he be back?\u2019\n \u2018He said, I\u2019ll get a breath of fresh air and come back.\u2019\n \u2018So\u2026\u2019 said the puzzled Varenukha, \u2018merci \u2026 kindly tell Monsieur Woland that\nhis performance is tonight in the third part of the programme.\u2019\n \u2018Right. Of course. Absolutely. Urgently. Without fail. I\u2019ll tell him,\u2019 the receiver\nrapped out abruptly.\n \u2018Goodbye,\u2019 Varenukha said in astonishment.\n \u2018Please accept,\u2019 said the receiver, \u2018my best, warmest greetings and wishes! For\nsuccess! Luck! Complete happiness! Everything!\u2019\n But of course! Didn\u2019t I say so!\u2018 the administrator cried agitatedly. \u2019It\u2019s not any\nYalta, he just went to the country!\u2018\n \u2018Well, if that\u2019s so,\u2019 the findirector began, turning pale with anger, \u2018it\u2019s real\nswinishness, there\u2019s even no name for it!\u2019\n Here the administrator jumped up and shouted so that Rimsky gave a start:\n \u2018I remember! I remember! They\u2019ve opened a new Georgian tavern in Pushkino\ncalled \u201cYalta\u201d! It\u2019s all clear! He went there, got drunk, and now he\u2019s sending\ntelegrams from there!\u2019\n \u2018Well, now that\u2019s too much!\u2019 Rimsky answered, his cheek twitching, and deep,\ngenuine anger burned in his eyes. \u2018Well, then, he\u2019s going to pay dearly for this little\nexcursion!\u2026\u2019 He suddenly faltered and added irresolutely: \u2018But what about the\ncriminal investigation\u2026\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s nonsense! His own little jokes,\u2019 the expansive administrator interrupted,\nand asked: \u2018Shall I take the envelope?\u2019\n \u2018Absolutely,\u2019 replied Rimsky.\n And again the door opened and in came that same\u2026 \u2018Her!\u2019 thought Rimsky, for\nsome reason with anguish. And both men rose to meet the postwoman.\n This time the telegram contained the words:\n \u2018Thank you confirmation send five hundred urgently criminal investigation my\nname tomorrow fly Moscow Likhodeev.\u2019\n \u2018He\u2019s lost his mind\u2026\u2019 Varenukha said weakly.\n Rimsky jingled his key, took money from the fireproof safe, counted out five\nhundred roubles, rang the bell, handed the messenger the money, and sent him to\nthe telegraph office.\n \u2018Good heavens, Grigory Danilovich,\u2019 Varenukha said, not believing his eyes, \u2018in\nmy opinion you oughtn\u2019t to send the money.\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019ll come back,\u2019 Rimsky replied quietly, \u2018but he\u2019ll have a hard time explaining\nthis little picnic.\u2019 And he added, indicating the briefcase to Varenukha: \u2018Go, Ivan\nSavelyevich, don\u2019t delay.\u2019\n And Varenukha ran out of the office with the briefcase.\n He went down to the ground floor, saw the longest line at the box office, found\nout from the box-office girl that she expected to sell out within the hour, because\nthe public was simply pouring in since the additional poster had been put up, told\nthe girl to earmark and hold thirty of the best seats in the gallery and the stalls,\npopped out of the box office, shook off importunate pass-seekers as he ran, and\ndived into his little office to get his cap. At that moment the telephone rattled.\n \u2018Yes!\u2019 Varenukha shouted.\n \u2018Ivan Savelyevich?\u2019 the receiver inquired in a most repulsive nasal voice.\n \u2018He\u2019s not in the theatre!\u2019 Varenukha was shouting, but the receiver interrupted\nhim at once:\n \u2018Don\u2019t play the fool, Ivan Savelyevich, just listen. Do not take those telegrams\nanywhere or show them to anyone.\u2019\n \u2018Who is this?\u2019 Varenukha bellowed. \u2018Stop these jokes, citizen! You\u2019ll be found out\nat once! What\u2019s your number?\u2019\n \u2018Varenukha,\u2019 the same nasty voice returned, \u2018do you understand Russian? Don\u2019t\ntake the telegrams anywhere.\u2019\n \u2018Ah, so you won\u2019t stop?\u2019 the administrator cried furiously. \u2018Look out, then! You\u2019re\ngoing to pay for it!\u2019 He shouted some other threat, but fell silent, because he\nsensed that no one was listening to him any longer in the receiver.\n Here it somehow began to grow dark very quickly in his little office. Varenukha\nran out, slammed the door behind him, and rushed through the side entrance into\nthe summer garden.\n The administrator was agitated and full of energy. After the insolent phone call\nhe had no doubts that it was a band of hooligans playing nasty tricks, and that\nthese tricks were connected with the disappearance of Likhodeev. The\nadministrator was choking with the desire to expose the malefactors, and, strange\nas it was, the anticipation of something enjoyable was born in him. It happens\nthat way when a man strives to become the centre of attention, to bring\nsensational news somewhere.\n In the garden the wind blew in the administrator\u2019s face and flung sand in his\neyes, as if blocking his way, as if cautioning him. A window on the second floor\nslammed so that the glass nearly broke, the tops of the maples and lindens rustled\nalarmingly. It became darker and colder. The administrator rubbed his eyes and\nsaw that a yellow-bellied storm cloud was creeping low over Moscow. There came a\ndense, distant rumbling.\n However great Varenukha\u2019s hurry, an irrepressible desire pulled at him to run\nover to the summer toilet for a second on his way, to check whether the repairman\nhad put a wire screen over the light-bulb.\n Running past the shooting gallery, Varenukha came to a thick growth of lilacs\nwhere the light-blue toilet building stood. The repairman turned out to be an\nefficient fellow, the bulb under the roof of the gentlemen\u2019s side was covered with a\nwire screen, but the administrator was upset that even in the pre-storm darkness\none could make out that the walls were already written all over in charcoal and\npencil.\n \u2018Well, what sort of\u2026\u2019 the administrator began and suddenly heard a voice\npurring behind him:\n \u2018Is that you, Ivan Savelyevich?\u2019\n Varenukha started, turned around, and saw before him a short, fat man with\nwhat seemed to him a cat-like physiognomy.\n \u2018So, it\u2019s me, \u2019 Varenukha answered hostilely.\n \u2018Very, very glad,\u2019 the cat-like fat man responded in a squeaky voice and,\nsuddenly swinging his arm, gave Varenukha such a blow on the ear that the cap\nflew off the administrator\u2019s head and vanished without a trace down the hole in\nthe seat.\n At the fat man\u2019s blow, the whole toilet lit up momentarily with a tremulous light,\nand a roll of thunder echoed in the sky. Then came another flash and a second\nman emerged before the administrator\u2014short, but with athletic shoulders, hair\nred as fire, albugo in one eye, a fang in his mouth\u2026 This second one, evidently a\nlefty, socked the administrator on the other ear. In response there was another roll\nof thunder in the sky, and rain poured down on the wooden roof of the toilet.\n \u2018What is it, comr\u2026\u2019 the half-crazed administrator whispered, realized at once\nthat the word \u2018comrades\u2019 hardly fitted bandits attacking a man in a public toilet,\nrasped out: \u2019citiz\u2026\u2018\u2014figured that they did not merit this appellation either, and\nreceived a third terrible blow from he did not know which of them, so that blood\ngushed from his nose on to his Tolstoy blouse.\n \u2018What you got in the briefcase, parasite?\u2019 the one resembling a cat cried shrilly.\n\u2018Telegrams? Weren\u2019t you warned over the phone not to take them anywhere?\nWeren\u2019t you warned, I\u2019m asking you?\u2019\n \u2018I was wor \u2026 wer \u2026 warned\u2026\u2019 the administrator answered, suffocating.\n \u2018And you skipped off anyway? Gimme the briefcase, vermin!\u2019 the second one\ncried in the same nasal voice that had come over the telephone, and he yanked the\nbriefcase from Varenukha\u2019s trembling hands.\n And the two picked the administrator up under the arms, dragged him out of\nthe garden, and raced down Sadovaya with him. The storm raged at full force,\nwater streamed with a noise and howling down the drains, waves bubbled and\nbillowed everywhere, water gushed from the roofs past the drainpipes, foamy\nstreams ran from gateways. Everything living got washed off Sadovaya, and there\nwas no one to save Ivan Savelyevich. Leaping through muddy rivers, under flashes\nof lightning, the bandits dragged the half-alive administrator in a split second to\nno. 302-bis, flew with him through the gateway, where two barefoot women,\nholding their shoes and stockings in their hands, pressed themselves to the wall.\nThen they dashed into the sixth entrance, and Varenukha, nearly insane, was\ntaken up to the fifth floor and thrown down in the semi-dark front hall, so well\nknown to him, of Styopa Likhodeev\u2019s apartment.\n Here the two robbers vanished, and in their place there appeared in the front\nhall a completely naked girl\u2014red-haired, her eyes burning with a phosphorescent\ngleam.\n Varenukha understood that this was the most terrible of all things that had ever\nhappened to him and, moaning, recoiled against the wall. But the girl came right\nup to the administrator and placed the palms of her hands on his shoulders.\nVarenukha\u2019s hair stood on end, because even through the cold, water-soaked cloth\nof his Tolstoy blouse he could feel that those palms were still colder, that their cold\nwas the cold of ice.\n \u2018Let me give you a kiss,\u2019 the girl said tenderly, and there were shining eyes right\nin front of his eyes. Then Varenukha fainted and never felt the kiss.\n",
        "ttl": 3600
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}