1. So said Margarita as she walked with the master towards their everlasting home. Margarita’s words seemed to him to flow like the whispering stream behind them, and the master’s memory, his accursed, needling memory, began to fade. He had been freed, just as he had set free the character he had created. His hero had now vanished irretrievably into the abyss; on the night of Sunday, the day of the Resurrection, pardon had been granted to the astrologer’s son, fifth Procurator of Judaea, the cruel Pontius Pilate.