![]() ![]() Margarita jumped off her broomstick and the cold stone floor of the landing felt pleasantly cool to her hot bare feet. Here we are, left-eighty-two, right-eighty-three, another floor up, left-eighty-four! Here it is and there's his name-" 0. ![]() Margarita was already flying upstairs, excitedly repeating : The porter jumped up in astonishment and stared at the name-board, wondering why it had suddenly given a shriek. Rising a little in the air, she began eagerly to read the names: Khustov, Dvubratsky, Quant, Beskudnikov, Latunsky. The inscription over the name-board, reading ' Drama and Literature House,' made Margarita give a suppressed yelp of predatory anticipation. Tucking her broomstick under her arm, Margarita pushed open the front door, to the amazement of the porter, walked in and saw a huge black notice-board that listed the names and flat numbers of all the residents. Margarita frowned at the inscription, wondering what the word ' Dramlit' could mean. Over the doorway was a gold inscription reading ' Dramlit House'. Margarita flew towards it and as she landed she saw that the building was faced with black marble, that its doors were wide, that a porter in gold-laced peaked cap and buttons stood in the hall. Her attention was caught by a massive and obviously newly-built eight-storey block of flats at the far end of the street. But Margarita was already bored with this prank and had flown out again into the street. Margarita carefully stretched out her arm between them and turned off both primuses. The two quarrelling women stopped at the sound of her voice and stood petrified, clutching their dirty spoons. 'You're both as bad as each other,' said Margarita clearly, leaning over the windowsill into the kitchen. 'You should put the light out when you come out of the lavatory, I've told you before, Pelagea Petrovna,' said the woman with a saucepan of some steaming decoction, ' otherwise we'll have you chucked out of here.' Two Primuses were roaring away on a marble ledge, attended by two women standing with spoons in their hands and swearing at each other. Out of curiosity Margarita glanced into one of them. All their windows were open and radio music poured out from all sides. She crossed the Arbat, climbed to fourth-floor height, past the brilliant neon tubes of a corner theatre and turned into a narrow side-street flanked with tall houses. 'What a maze,' thought Margarita crossly. Little streams diverged from these rivers and trickled into the lighted caves of all-night stores. Beneath her flowed the roofs of trolley-buses, buses and cars, and rivers of hats surged along the pavements. ' There are so many obstructions, it's like a maze.' She began weaving between the cables. 'I shall have to be even more careful on the Arbat,' she thought to herself. The pieces crashed to the ground, passers-by jumped aside, a whistle blew and Margarita burst into laughter at her little act of wanton destruction. ![]() She stopped the obedient broomstick, flew back, aimed for the sign and with a sudden flick of the end of her broom, smashed it to fragments. Slow as her progress was, however, she made slightly too wide a sweep as she flew into the blindingly-lit Arbat and hit her shoulder against an illuminated glass traffic sign. Margarita flew silently and very slowly at about second-storey height. Nobody turned their head, nobody shouted' Look, look! ', nobody stepped aside, nobody screamed, fell in a faint or burst into laughter. It was now quite obvious that the people in the street could not see her. By now she had thoroughly mastered the business of steering her broom, having found that it answered to the slightest touch of her hands or legs and that when flying around the town she had to be very careful to avoid collisions. The next street led straight to the Arbat. As she swerved away from it, Margarita gripped her broomstick harder and flew on more slowly, glancing at the passing signboards and electric cables. Stopping herself by a miracle she just avoided a lethal collison with an old, crooked lamp-post. ![]() Here Margarita discovered that although she was invisible, free as air and thoroughly enjoying herself, she still had to take care. Invisible and free! Reaching the end of her street, Margarita turned sharp right and flew on down a long, crooked street with its plane trees and its patched roadway, its oil-shop with a warped door where they sold kerosene by the jugful and the bottled juice of parasites. ![]()
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