Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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here, so he would like to have a little talk with the Professor... A certain
foreign state was offering Professor Persikov entirely disinterested
assistance with his laboratory research. Why cast your pearls here, as the
Scriptures say? This state knew how hard it had been for the Professor in
'nineteen and 'twenty during that tee-hee ... revolution. Of course, it
would all be kept absolutely secret. The Professor would inform the state of
the results of his work, and it would finance him in return. Take that
chamber he had built, for instance. It would be interesting to have a peep
at the designs for it...
At this point the guest took a pristine wad of banknotes out of his
inside jacket pocket...
A mere trifle, a deposit of 5,000 roubles, say, could be given to the
Professor this very moment... no receipt was required. The authorised
whatever he was would be most offended if the Professor even mentioned a
receipt.
"Get out!" Persikov suddenly roared so terrifyingly that the high keys
on the piano in the drawing-room vibrated.
The guest vanished so quickly that after a moment Persikov, who was
shaking with rage, was not sure whether he had been a hallucination or not.
"His galoshes?" Persikov yelled a moment later in the hall.
"The gentleman forgot them, sir," replied a quaking Maria Stepanovna.
"Throw them out!"
"How can I? The gentleman's bound to come back for them."
"Hand them over to the house committee. And get a receipt. Don't let me
ever set eyes on them again! Take them to the committee! Let them have that
spy's galoshes!"
Maria Stepanovna crossed herself, picked up the splendid leather
galoshes and took them out of the back door. She stood outside for a while,
then hid the galoshes in the pantry.
"Handed them over?" growled Persikov.
"Yes, sir."