JК
Diaboliad :: Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич
Страница: 11 из 30After racing down six marble flights and nearly killing a tall elderly lady wearing a piece of lace on her head fastened with pins, who crossed herself fearfully, he found himself at the bottom by a huge new glass wall under a notice in silver lettering on blue that said «Duty class ladies» while another one underneath written in ink on paper read «Information». Korotkov was convulsed with dark horror. Longjohn had come into sight clearly through the glass wall. The former terrible blue-shaven Longjohn. He walked past almost next to Korotkov, separated from him only by a thin layer of glass. Trying not to think of anything, Korotkov made a dive for the copper door-handle and shook it, but it did not give.
Gnashing his teeth, he tugged at the shining copper again, and only then read in desperation a small notice that said «Entry through stairway six».
Longjohn flashed past and disappeared in a black niche behind the glass.
«Where's six? Where's six?» Korotkov cried faintly to someone. The passers-by started back. A small side door opened, and out popped an old man in a glossy suit and blue glasses holding a long list. He peered at Korotkov over his glasses, smiled and ruminated.
«So you're still wandering around, are you?» he mumbled. «It's a waste of time, you know. Just listen to me, an old man, and give it up. I've already crossed you off anyway. Tee-hee!»
«Crossed me off what?» Korotkov exclaimed.
«Ha-ha. Off the lists, of course. With my pencil — whoosh, and that's that. Tee-hee!» The old man laughed lasciviously.
«Excuse me, but how do you know who I am?»
«Ha-ha. You're a real leg-puller, Vassily Pavlovich.»
«I'm Varfolomei,» said Korotkov, putting a hand on his cold, clammy forehead. «Varfolomei Petrovich.»
For a moment the smile left the terrible old man's face. He stared at the list and ran a small dry finger with a long nail down it.
«Don't you try to confuse me! Here you are — Kolobkov V. P.»
«But I'm Korotkov!» Korotkov shouted impatiently.
«That's what I said: Kolobkov,» the old man retorted huffily. «And here's Longjohn. You've both been transferred together, and Chekushin's taken over from Longjohn.»
«What?» cried Korotkov, beside himself with joy. «Longjohn's been fired?»
«That's right. He was only there for a day before they chucked him out.»
«Thank the Lord!» exclaimed Korotkov delightedly. «I'm saved! I'm saved!» And without realising what he was doing, he shook the old man's bony hand with its long nails. The old man smiled, and for a moment Korotkov's joy faded. There was something strange and sinister in the old man's blue eye-sockets. The smile baring greyish gums seemed strange too.
Gnashing his teeth, he tugged at the shining copper again, and only then read in desperation a small notice that said «Entry through stairway six».
Longjohn flashed past and disappeared in a black niche behind the glass.
«Where's six? Where's six?» Korotkov cried faintly to someone. The passers-by started back. A small side door opened, and out popped an old man in a glossy suit and blue glasses holding a long list. He peered at Korotkov over his glasses, smiled and ruminated.
«So you're still wandering around, are you?» he mumbled. «It's a waste of time, you know. Just listen to me, an old man, and give it up. I've already crossed you off anyway. Tee-hee!»
«Crossed me off what?» Korotkov exclaimed.
«Ha-ha. Off the lists, of course. With my pencil — whoosh, and that's that. Tee-hee!» The old man laughed lasciviously.
«Excuse me, but how do you know who I am?»
«Ha-ha. You're a real leg-puller, Vassily Pavlovich.»
«I'm Varfolomei,» said Korotkov, putting a hand on his cold, clammy forehead. «Varfolomei Petrovich.»
For a moment the smile left the terrible old man's face. He stared at the list and ran a small dry finger with a long nail down it.
«Don't you try to confuse me! Here you are — Kolobkov V. P.»
«But I'm Korotkov!» Korotkov shouted impatiently.
«That's what I said: Kolobkov,» the old man retorted huffily. «And here's Longjohn. You've both been transferred together, and Chekushin's taken over from Longjohn.»
«What?» cried Korotkov, beside himself with joy. «Longjohn's been fired?»
«That's right. He was only there for a day before they chucked him out.»
«Thank the Lord!» exclaimed Korotkov delightedly. «I'm saved! I'm saved!» And without realising what he was doing, he shook the old man's bony hand with its long nails. The old man smiled, and for a moment Korotkov's joy faded. There was something strange and sinister in the old man's blue eye-sockets. The smile baring greyish gums seemed strange too.