When the poisoned ones lay still, Azazello began to act. First of all, he rushed out of the window, and a few instances later was in the house were Margarita Nikolaevna lived. The ever precise and accurate Azazello wanted to make sure that everything was carried out properly. And everything turned out to be in perfect order. Azazello saw a gloomy woman, who was waiting for her husband’s return, come out of her bedroom, suddenly turn pale, clutch her heart, and cry helplessly: ’Natasha . . . somebody … come …’ and fall to the floor in the living room before reaching the study.
’Everything’s in order,’ said Azazello. A moment later he was beside the fallen lovers. Margarita lay with her face against the little rug. With his iron hands, Azazello turned her over like a doll, face to him, and peered at her. The face of the poisoned woman was changing before his eyes. Even in the gathering dusk of the storm, one could see the temporary witch’s cast in her eyes and the cruelty and the violence of her features disappear. The face of the dead woman brightened and finally softened, and the look of her bared teeth was no longer predatory but simply that of a suffering woman. Then Azazello unclenched her white teeth and poured several drops of the same wine with which he had poisoned her. Margarita sighed, began to rise without Azazello’s help, sat up and asked weakly:
’Why, Azazello, why? What have you done to me?’
She saw the outstretched master, shuttered, and whispered:
’I didn’t expect this … murderer!’
’Oh, no, no,’ answered Azazello, ‘he’ll rise presently. Ah, why are you so nervous?’
