按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
thoughtfully； “what the dearly departed expressed to me in his last moments
started to gnaw at me like a worm。 Having caused me to bloody my hands； the
final painting loomed larger in my mind； and so； resolving to see it； I went to
your Enishte； who no longer summoned any of us to his house。 Not only did
he refuse to reveal the painting； he behaved as if nothing were the matter。
There was； he sniffled； neither a painting nor anything else so mysterious that
it called for murder！ To preempt further humiliation； and to get his attention； I
thereupon confessed that I was the one who killed Elegant Effendi and tossed
him into a well。 Yes； then he took me more seriously； but he continued to
humiliate me all the same。 How could a man who humiliates his son be a
father？ Great Master Osman would bee irate with us； he’d beat us； but he
never once humiliated us。 Oh my brothers； we’ve made a grave mistake by
betraying him。”
I smiled at my brethren whose attention was focused upon my eyes；
listening to me as though I lay on my deathbed。 Just as a dying man would； I
saw them growing increasingly blurry and moving away from me。
“I murdered your Enishte for two reasons。 First； because he shamelessly
forced the great Master Osman into aping the Veian artist； Sebastiano。
Second； because in a moment of weakness； I lowered myself to ask him
whether I had a style of my own。”
428
“How did he respond？”
“It seems I am possessed of a style。 But ing from him； of course； this
was not an insult。 I remembered wondering； in my shame； if this were indeed
praise： I considered style to be a variety of rootlessness and dishonor； but
doubt was eating at me。 I wanted nothing to do with style； but the Devil was
tempting me and I was； furthermore； curious。”
“Everybody secretly desires to have a style；” said Black smartly。 “Everybody
also desires to have his portrait made； just as Our Sultan did。”
“Is this affliction impossible to resist？” I said。 “As this plague spreads； none
of us will be able to stand against the methods of the Europeans。”
No one was listening to me； however。 Black was recounting the story of a
sad Turkmen chieftain who was sent off on a twelve…year exile to China
because he’d prematurely expressed his love for the daughter of the shah。
Since he didn’t have a portrait of his beloved； of whom he dreamed for a
dozen years； he forgot her face amid the Chinese beauties； and his lovelorn
suffering was transformed into a profound trial willed by Allah。
“Thanks to your Enishte； we’ve all learned the meaning of ”portrait；“” I
said。 “God willing； one day； we’ll fearlessly tell the story of our own lives the
way we actually live them。”
“All fables are everybody’s fables；” said Black。
“All illumination is God’s illumination too；” I said； pleting the verse by
the poet Hatifi of Herat。 “But as the methods of the Europeans spread；
everyone will consider it a special talent to tell other men’s stories as if they
were one’s own。”
“This is nothing but the will of Satan。”
“Unhand me now；” I shouted。 “Let me look upon the world one last time。”
They were terrified； and a new confidence rose within me。
“Will you take out the final picture？” Black said。
I gave Black such a look that he was quick to understand I’d do so and he
released me。 My heart began to beat rapidly。
I’m certain you’ve long ago discovered my identity； which I’ve been trying
to conceal。 Even so； don’t be surprised that I’m behaving like the old masters
of Herat； for they would conceal their signatures not to hide their identities；
but out of principle and respect for their masters。 Excitedly； I walked through
the pitch…black rooms of the lodge； oil lamp in hand； making way for my own
429
pale shadow。 Had the curtain of blackness begun to fall over my eyes； or were
these rooms and hallways truly this dark？ How many days and weeks； how
much time did I have before going blind？ My shadow and I stopped among
the ghosts in the kitchen and lifted up the pages from the clean corner of a
dusty cabi before quickly heading back。 Black had followed me as a
precaution； but he’d neglected to bring his dagger。 Would I； perchance；
consider taking up that dagger and blinding him before I myself went blind？
“I’m pleased that I will see this once again before going blind；” I said with
pride。 “I want you all to see it as well。 Look here。”
Under the light of the oil lamp； I showed them the final picture； which I’d
taken from Enishte’s house the day I killed him。 At first； I watched their
curious and timid expressions as they looked at the double…leaf picture。 I
circled around and joined them； and I was ever so faintly trembling as I stared。
The lancing of my eyes； or perhaps a sudden rapture； made me feverish。
The pictures we made on various parts of the two pages over the past
year—tree； horse； Satan； Death； dog and woman—were arranged； large and
small； according to Enishte’s albeit inept new method of position； in such
a way that the dearly departed Elegant Effendi’s gilding and borders made us
feel we were no longer looking at a page from a book but at the world seen
through a window。 In the center of this world； where Our Sultan should’ve
been； was my own portrait； which I briefly observed with pride。 I was
somewhat unsatisfied with it because after laboring in vain for days； looking
into a mirror and erasing and reworking； I was unable to achieve a good
resemblance； still； I felt unbridled elation because the picture not only situated
me at the center of a vast world； but for some unaccountable and diabolic
reason； it made me appear more profound； plicated and mysterious than I
actually was。 I wanted only that my artist brethren recognize； understand and
share in my exuberanc