Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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turning yellow. "I don't have to give you any explanations or anything of
the sort... I'm busy... Terribly busy."
"What are you working on?" the young man asked ingratiatingly, putting
a second mark in his pad.
"Well, I'm... Why? Do you want to publish something?"
"Yes," replied the young man and suddenly started scribbling furiously.
"Firstly, I do not intend to publish anything until I have finished my
work ... and certainly not in your newspapers... Secondly, how did you find
out about this?" Persikov suddenly felt at a loss.
"Is it true that you have invented a new life ray?"
"What new life?" exploded the Professor. "You're talking absolute
piffle! The ray I am working on has not been fully studied, and nothing at
all is known yet! It may be able to increase the activity of protoplasm..."
"By how much?" the young man asked quickly.
Persikov was really at a loss now. "The insolent devil! What the blazes
is going on?" he thought to himself.
"What ridiculous questions! Suppose I say, well, a thousand times!"
Predatory delight flashed in the young man's eyes.'
"Does that produce gigantic organisms?" "Nothing of the sort! Well, of
course, the organisms I have obtained are bigger than usual. And they do
have some new properties. But the main thing is not the size, but the
incredible speed of reproduction," Persikov heard himself say to his utmost
dismay. Having filled up a whole page, the young man turned over and went on
scribbling.
"Don't write it down!" Persikov croaked in despair, realising that he
was in the young man's hands. "What are you writing?"
"Is it true that in forty-eight hours you can hatch two million
tadpoles from frog-spawn?"
"From how much spawn?" exploded Persikov, losing his temper again.
"Have you ever seen the spawn of a tree-frog, say?"