Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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machine-gun, then they took some ammunition and raced off on the motorbike
along the main road through the early morning dew and chill to the state
farm. The motorbike covered the twelve miles between the station and the
farm in a quarter of an hour (Feight had walked all night, occasionally
hiding in the grass by the wayside in spasms of mortal terror), and when the
sun began to get hot, the sugar palace with columns appeared amid the trees
on the hill overlooking the winding River Top. There was a deathly silence
all around. At the beginning of the turning up to the state farm the agents
overtook a peasant on a cart. He was riding along at a leisurely pace with a
load of sacks, and was soon left far behind. The motorbike drove over the
bridge, and Polaitis sounded the horn to announce their arrival. But this
elicited no response whatsoever, except from some distant frenzied dogs in
Kontsovka. The motorbike slowed down as it approached the gates with
verdigris lions. Covered with dust, the agents in yellow gaiters dismounted,
padlocked their motorbike to the iron railings and went into the yard. The
silence was eery.
"Hey, anybody around?" shouted Shukin loudly.
But no one answered his deep voice. The agents walked round the yard,
growing more and more mystified. Polaitis was scowling. Shukin began to
search seriously, his fair eyebrows knit in a frown. They looked through an
open window into the kitchen and saw that it was empty, but the floor was
covered with broken bits of white china.
"Something really has happened to them, you know. I can see it now.
Some catastrophe," Polaitis said.
"Anybody there? Hey!" shouted Shukin, but the only reply was an echo
from the kitchen vaults. "The devil only knows! It couldn't have gobbled
them all up, could it? Perhaps they've run off somewhere. Let's go into the