Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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round Dunya's waist.
The flute was being played by none other than the manager of the state
farm himself, Alexander Semyonovich Feight, who, to do him justice, was
playing it beautifully. The fact of the matter was that Alexander
Semyonovich had once specialised in the flute. Right up to 1917 he had
played in the well-known concert ensemble of the maestro Petukhov, filling
the foyer of the cosy little Magic Dreams cinema in the town of
Yekaterinoslav with its sweet notes every evening. But the great year of
1917, which broke the careers of so many, had swept Alexander Semyonovich
onto a new path too. He left the Magic Dreams and the dusty star-spangled
satin of its foyer to plunge into the open sea of war and revolution,
exchanging his flute for a death-dealing Mauser. For a long time he was
tossed about on waves which washed him ashore, now in the Crimea, now in
Moscow, now in Turkestan, and even in Vladivostok. It needed the revolution
for Alexander Semyonovich to realise his full potential. It turned out that
here was a truly great man, who should not be allowed to waste his talents
in the foyer of Magic Dreams, of course. Without going into unnecessary
detail, we shall merely say that the year before, 1927, and the beginning of
1928 had found Alexander Semyonovich in Turkestan where he first edited a
big newspaper and then, as a local member of the Supreme Economic
Commission, became renowned for his remarkable contribution to the
irrigation of Turkestan. In 1928 Feight came to Moscow and received some
well-deserved leave. The Supreme Commission of the organisation, whose
membership card this provincially old-fashioned man carried with honour in
his pocket, appreciated his qualities and appointed him to a quiet and
honorary post. Alas and alack! To the great misfortune of the Republic,