"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Master and Margarita (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автораused to be a tax collector, and I first met him on the road in
Bethphage,'[4] where a fig grove juts out at an angle, and I got to talking with him. He treated me hostilely at first and even insulted me - that is, thought he insulted me -- by calling me a dog.' Here the prisoner smiled. 'I personally see nothing bad about this animal, that I should be offended by this word . . .' The secretary stopped writing and stealthily cast a surprised glance, not at the arrested man, but at the procurator. '. . . However, after listening to me, he began to soften,' Yeshua went on, 'finally threw the money down in the road and said he would go journeying with me . . .' Pilate grinned with one cheek, baring yellow teeth, and said, turning his whole body towards the secretary: 'Oh, city ofYershalaim! What does one not hear in it! A tax collector, do you hear, threw money down in the road!' Not knowing how to reply to that, the secretary found it necessary to repeat Pilate's smile. 'He said that henceforth money had become hateful to him,' Yeshua explained Matthew Levi's strange action and added: 'And since then he has been my companion.' His teeth still bared, the procurator glanced at the arrested man, then at the sun, steadily rising over the equestrian statues of the hippodrome, which lay far below to the right, and suddenly, in some sickening anguish, thought that the simplest thing would be to drive this strange robber off the balcony by uttering just two words: 'Hang him.' To drive the convoy away darkened, collapse on the bed, send for cold water, call in a plaintive voice for his dog Banga, and complain to him about the hemicrania. And the thought of poison suddenly flashed temptingly in the procurator's sick head, He gazed with dull eyes at the arrested man and was silent for a time, painfully trying to remember why there stood before him in the pitiless morning sunlight of Yershalaim this prisoner with his face disfigured by beating, and what other utterly unnecessary questions he had to ask him. 'Matthew Levi?' the sick man asked in a hoarse voice and closed his eyes. 'Yes, Matthew Levi,' the high, tormenting voice came to him. 'And what was it in any case that you said about the temple to the crowd in the bazaar?' The responding voice seemed to stab at Pilate's temple, was inexpressibly painful, and this voice was saying: 'I said, Hegemon, that the temple of the old faith would fall and a new temple of truth would be built. I said it that way so as to make it more understandable.' 'And why did you stir up the people in the bazaar, you vagrant, talking about the truth, of which you have no notion? What is truth?'[15] And here the procurator thought: 'Oh, my gods! I'm asking him about something unnecessary at a trial... my reason no longer serves me . . .' And again he pictured a cup of dark liquid. 'Poison, bring me poison . . .' And again he heard the voice: The truth is, first of all, that your head aches, and aches so badly |
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