Mikhail Bulgakov. The Master and Margarita -
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trees.
'Excuse me,' said Berlioz after a pause with a glance at the
stranger's jaunty beret, ' but what on earth has sunflower-seed oil got to
do with it... and who is Anna? '
'I'll tell you what sunflower-seed oil's got to do with it,' said
Bezdomny suddenly, having obviously decided to declare war on their
uninvited companion. ' Have you, citizen, ever had to spend any time in a
mental hospital? '
'Ivan! ' hissed Mikhail Alexandrovich.
But the stranger was not in the least offended and gave a cheerful
laugh. ' Yes, I have, I have, and more than once! ' he exclaimed laughing,
though the stare that he gave the poet was mirthless. ' Where haven't I
been! My only regret is that I didn't stay long enough to ask the professor
what schizophrenia was. But you are going to find that out from him
yourself, Ivan Nikolayich!'
'How do you know my name? '
'My dear fellow, who doesn't know you? ' With this the foreigner
pulled the previous day's issue of The Literary Gazette out of his pocket
and Ivan Nikolayich saw his own picture on the front page above some of his
own verse. Suddenly what had delighted him yesterday as proof of his fame
and popularity no longer gave the poet any pleasure at all.
'I beg your pardon,' he said, his face darkening. ' Would you excuse
us for a minute? I should like a word or two with my friend.'
'Oh, with pleasure! ' exclaimed the stranger. ' It's so delightful
sitting here under the trees and I'm not in a hurry to go anywhere, as it
happens.'
'Look here, Misha,' whispered the poet when he had drawn Berlioz
aside. ' He's not just a foreign tourist, he's a spy. He's a Russian emigre
and he's trying to catch us out. Ask him for his papers and then he'll go
away . . .'
'Do you think we should? ' whispered Berlioz anxiously, thinking to