Chapter
31
On
Sparrow Hills
So, they left
Stravinsky’s clinic and accompanied Azazello. On the Sparrow Hills Woland,
Begemot and Koroviev are waiting for them.
Let us
remember that Master and Margarita are going to leave Moscow forever. The following
conversation takes place:
'We
had to trouble you a little, Margarita Nikolaevna and Master,' Woland began
after some silence, 'but you won't grudge me that. I don't think you will
regret it. So, then,' he addressed the Master alone, 'bid farewell to the
city. It's time for us to go,' Woland pointed with his black-gauntleted hand to
where numberless suns melted the glass beyond the river, to where, above these
suns, stood the mist, smoke and steam of the city scorched all day.
The Master
threw himself out of the saddle, left the mounted ones, and ran to the edge of
the hillside. The black cloak dragged on the ground behind him. The Master
began to look at the city.
In the
first moments a wringing sadness crept over his heart, but it very quickly gave
wav to a sweetish anxiety, a wandering gypsy excitement.
`Forever!
... That needs to be grasped,' the master whispered and licked his dry, cracked
lips.
He
began to heed and take precise note of everything that went on in his soul. His
excitement turned, as it seemed to him, into a feeling of deep and grievous
offence. But it was unstable, vanished, and gave way for some reason to a
haughty indifference, and that to a foretaste of enduring peace.
The
group of riders waited silently for the master. The group of riders watched the
black, long figure on the edge of the hillside gesticulate, now raising his
head, as if trying to reach across the whole city with his eyes, to peer beyond
its limits, now hanging his head down, as if studying the trampled, meager
grass under his feet.
The
silence was broken by the bored Behemoth. `Allow me, maître,' he began, 'to
give a farewell whistle before the ride.'
Master is
pouring out all the feelings of a humiliated heart, his state of
mind is changing every minute. But when he returns back to Woland and company
who were indulging in small funs waiting for him, he is quite composed. He is
no longer sad that he is leaving his world, his literary world, this city which
denied him the recognition that he deserved.
He
clutched his head and ran back to the group of waiting companions.
'Well,
then,' Woland addressed him from the height of his steed, 'is your farewell
completed?'
'Yes,
it's completed,' the master replied and, having calmed down, looked directly
and boldly into Woland's face.
And
then over the hills like a trumpet blast rolled Woland's terrible voice:
'It's
time!!' - and with it the sharp whistle and guffaw of Behemoth.
The
steeds tore off, and the riders rose into the air and galloped. Margarita felt
her furious steed champing and straining at the bit. Woland's cloak billowed
over the heads of the cavalcade; the cloak began to cover the evening sky. When
the black shroud was momentarily blown aside, behind them, but the city itself
had long been gone. It was as if it had fallen through the earth - only mist
and smoke were left...
And in
Woland’s company, Master and Margarita start for their destination…..
कोई टिप्पणी नहीं:
एक टिप्पणी भेजें
टिप्पणी: केवल इस ब्लॉग का सदस्य टिप्पणी भेज सकता है.