Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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triumphantly. Everyone put their ears eagerly to the doors of the first
chamber. "That's them tapping with their little beaks, the chickens,"
Alexander Semyonovich went on, beaming. "So you thought I wouldn't hatch out
any chicks, did you? Well, you were wrong, my hearties." From an excess of
emotion he slapped the guard on the shoulder. "I'll hatch chickens that'll
take your breath away. Only now I must keep alert," he added strictly. "Let
me know as soon as they start hatching."
"Right you are," replied the watchman, Dunya and the guard in a chorus.
"Tappity-tappity-tappity," went one egg, then another, in the first
chamber. In fact this on-the-spot spectacle of new life being born in a thin
shining shell was so intriguing that they all sat for a long time on the
upturned empty crates, watching the crimson eggs mature in the mysterious
glimmering light. By the time they went to bed it was quite late and a
greenish night had spread over the farm and the surrounding countryside. The
night was mysterious, one might even say frightening, probably because its
total silence was broken now and then by the abject, excruciating howls of
the dogs in Kontsovka. What on earth had got into those blasted dogs no one
could say.
An unpleasant surprise awaited Alexander Semyonovich the next morning.
The guard was extremely upset and kept putting his hands on his heart,
swearing that he had not fallen asleep but had noticed nothing.
"I can't understand it," the guard insisted. "It's through no fault of
mine, Comrade Feight."
"Very grateful to you, I'm sure," retorted Alexander Semyonovich
heatedly. "What do you think, comrade? Why were you put on guard? To keep an
eye on things. So tell me where they are. They've hatched out, haven't they?
So they must have run away. That means you must have left the door open and