"Michail Bulgakov. The heart of a dog" - читать интересную книгу автора

'H'm,' grunted Philip Philipovich, preoccupied as he stared into the
pupils of his visitor's eyes. The man finally succeeded in mastering his
flybuttons and took off his checked trousers, revealing the most
extraordinary pair of pants. They were cream-coloured, embroidered with
black silk cats and they smelled of perfume.
The dog could not resist the cats and gave such a bark that the man
jumped.
'Oh!'
'Quiet - or I'll beat you! . . . Don't worry, he won't bite.'
Won't I? thought the dog in amazement.
Out of the man's trouser pocket a little envelope fell to the floor. It
was decorated with a picture of a naked girl with flowing hair. He gave a
start, bent down to pick it up and blushed violently.
'Look here,' said Philip Philipovich in a tone of grim warning, wagging
a threatening finger, 'you shouldn't overdo it, you know.'
'I'm not overdo . . .' the creature muttered in embarrassment as he
went on undressing. 'It was just a sort of experiment.'
'Well, what were the results?' asked Philip Philipovich sternly.
The man waved his hand in ecstasy. 'I swear to God, professor, I
haven't known anything like it for twenty-five years. The last time was in
1899 in Paris, in the Rue de la Paix.'
'And why have you turned green?'
The visitor's face clouded over. 'That damned stuff! You'd never
believe, professor, what those rogues palmed off on me instead of dye. Just
take a look,' the man muttered, searching for a mirror. 'I'd like to punch
him on the snout,' he added in a rage. 'What am I to do now, professor?' he
asked tearfully.
'H'm. Shave all your hair off.'
'But, professor,' cried the visitor miserably, 'then it would only grow
grey again. Besides, I daren't show my face at the office like this. I
haven't been there for three days. Ah, professor, if only you had discovered
a way of rejuvenating hair!'
'One thing at a time, old man, one thing at a time,' muttered Philip
Philipovich. Bending down, his glittering eyes examined the patient's naked
abdomen.
'Splendid, everything's in great shape. To tell you the truth I didn't
even expect such results. You can get dressed now.'
' "Ah, she's so lovely . . ." ' sang the patient in a voice that
quavered like the sound of someone hitting an old, cracked saucepan.
Beaming, he started to dress. When he was ready he skipped across the floor
in a cloud of perfume, counted out a heap of white banknotes on the
professor's desk and shook him tenderly by both hands.
'You needn't come back for two weeks,' said Philip Philipovich, 'but I
must beg you - be careful.'
The ecstaticvoice replied from behind thedoor: 'Don't worry,
professor.' The creature gave a delighted giggle and went. The doorbell
tinkled through the apartment and the varnished door opened, admitting the
other doctor, who handed Philip Philipovich a sheet of paper and announced:
'She has lied about her age. It's probably about fifty or fifty-five.
Heart-beats muffled.'