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left to right in front of him without touching the ground.
Berlioz was so overcome with horror that he shut his eyes. When he
opened them he saw that it was all over, the mirage had dissolved, the
chequered figure had vanished and the blunt needle had simultaneously
removed itself from his heart.
'The devil! ' exclaimed the editor. ' D'you know, Ivan, the heat
nearly gave me a stroke just then! I even saw something like a hallucination
. . ' He tried to smile but his eyes were still blinking with fear and his
hands trembled. However he gradually calmed down, flapped his handkerchief
and with a brave enough ' Well, now. . . ' carried on the conversation that
had been interrupted by their drink of apricot juice.
They had been talking, it seemed, about Jesus Christ. The fact was that
the editor had commissioned the poet to write a long anti-religious poem for
one of the regular issues of his magazine. Ivan Nikolayich had written this
poem in record time, but unfortunately the editor did not care for it at
all. Bezdomny had drawn the chief figure in his poem, Jesus, in very black
colours, yet in the editor's opinion the whole poem had to be written
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