Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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woods had fallen silent, showing clearly how suspiciously unpleasant it was
when the trees were quiet, and whereas by midday the sparrows from the state
farmyard had also flown off somewhere, that evening there was not a sound
from the Sheremetevka pond either. This was quite extraordinary, because
everyone for twenty miles around was familiar with the croaking of the
Sheremetev frogs. But now they seemed to be extinct. There was not a single
voice from the pond, and the sedge was silent. It must be confessed that
this really upset Alexander Semyonovich. People had begun to talk about
these happenings in a most unpleasant fashion, i.e., behind his back.
"It really is strange," said Alexander Semyonovich to his wife at
lunch. "I can't understand why those birds had to go and fly away."
"How should I know?" Manya replied. "Perhaps it's because of your ray."
"Don't be so silly, Manya!" exclaimed Alexander Semyonovich, flinging
down his spoon. "You're as bad as the peasants. What's the ray got to do
with it?" "I don't know. Stop pestering me." That evening brought the third
surprise. The dogs began howling again in Kontsovka and how! Their endless
whines and angry, mournful yelping wafted over the moonlit fields.
Alexander Semyonovich rewarded himself somewhat with yet another
surprise, a pleasant one this time, in the conservatory. A constant tapping
had begun inside the red eggs in the chambers. "Tappity-tappity-tappity,"
came from one, then another, then a third.
The tapping in the eggs was a triumph for Alexander Semyonovich. The
strange events in the woods and on the pond were immediately forgotten.
Everyone gathered in the conservatory, Manya, Dunya, the watchman and the
guard, who left his rifle by the door.
"Well, then? What about that?" asked Alexander Semyonovich