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“What’s the other one say； then？” she asked； but did she herself know
whom she was inquiring after？
“The miniaturist？”
“My mind’s all ajumble；” she said suddenly； perhaps afraid of her own
thoughts。 “It seems that matters will bee even more confused。 My father’s
growing older。 What’ll bee of us； of these fatherless children？ I sense an
evil approaching； that the Devil is preparing some mischief for us。 Esther； tell
me something that will hearten me。”
“Don’t you fret in the slightest； my dearest Shekure；” I said as emotion
welled up within me。 “You’re truly intelligent； you’re very beautiful。 One day
you’ll sleep in the same bed with your handsome husband； you’ll cuddle with
him； and having forgotten all your worries； you’ll be happy。 I can read this in
your eyes。”
Such affection rose within me that my eyes filled with tears。
“Fine； but which one will bee my husband？”
“Isn’t that wise heart of yours giving you an answer？”
“It’s because I don’t understand what my heart is saying that I’m
dispirited。”
For a moment it occurred to me that Shekure didn’t trust me at all； that
she was masterfully concealing her distrust in order to learn what I knew； that
she was trying to arouse my pity。 When I saw she wouldn’t be writing a
response to the letters at present； I grabbed my sack； entered the courtyard
and slipped away—but not before saying something I told all my maids； even
those who were cross…eyed：
“Fear not； my dear； if you keep those beautiful eyes of yours peeled； no
misfortune； no misfortune at all will befall you。”
96
I； SHEKURE
If truth be told； it used to be that each time Esther the clothier paid a visit； I’d
fantasize that a man stricken with love would finally be roused to write a
letter that could stir the heart of an intelligent woman like myself—beautiful；
well…bred and widowed； yet with her honor still intact—and set it pounding。
And to discover that the letter was from one of the usual suitors； would； at the
very least； fortify my resolve and forbearance to await my husband’s return。
But these days； every time Esther leaves； I bee confused and feel all the
more wretched。
I listened to the sounds of my world。 From the kitchen came the bubbling
sound of boiling water and the smell of lemons and onions。 Hayriye was
boiling zucchini。 Shevket and Orhan were frolicking and playing “swordsman”
in the courtyard beneath the pomegranate tree； I heard their shouts。 My father
was sitting silently in the next room。 I opened and read Hasan’s letter and was
reassured that there was no cause for alarm。 Still； I grew a little more
frightened of him； and congratulated myself for withstanding his efforts to
make love to me when we shared the same house。 Next； I read Black’s letter；
holding it gently as if it were some delicate and sensitive bird； and my
thoughts became muddled。 I didn’t read the letters again。 The sun broke
through the clouds and it occurred to me that if I’d entered Hasan’s
bedchamber one night and made love with him； no one； except Allah；
would’ve been the wiser。 He did resemble my missing husband； it’d be the
same thing。 Sometimes a strange thought like this entered my head。 As the sun
quickly warmed me； I could feel my body： my skin； my neck； even my nipples。
Orhan slipped inside as the sunlight struck me through the open door。
“Mama； what are you reading？” he said。
All right then； remember how I said that I didn’t reread the letters Esther
had just delivered？ I lied。 I was in the midst of reading them again。 This time； I
truly did fold them up and tuck them away in my blouse。
“e here； you； onto my lap；” I said to Orhan。 He did so。 “Oh my； you’re
so heavy。 May God protect you； you’ve gotten quite big；” I said and kissed
him。 “You’re as cold as ice…”
“You’re so warm； Mama；” he interrupted； leaning back onto my bosom。
We were leaning tight against each other； enjoying sitting that way in
silence。 I smelled the nape of his neck and kissed him。 I hugged him even more
tightly。 We were still。
97
“I’m feeling ticklish；” he said later。
“Tell me then；” I said in my serious voice。 “If the Sultan of the Jinns came
and said he’d grant you a wish； what would you want most of all？”
“I’d want Shevket to go away。”
“What besides？ Would you want to have a father？”
“No； when I grow up I’m going to marry you myself。”
It wasn’t aging； losing one’s beauty or even being bereft of husband and
money that was the worst of all calamities； what was truly horrible was not
having anyone to be jealous of you。 I lowered Orhan’s warming body from my
lap。 Thinking that a wicked woman like myself ought to wed someone with a
good soul； I went up to see my father。
“His Excellency Our Sultan will reward you after seeing for Himself that His
book has been pleted；” I said。 “You’ll go to Venice again。”
“I cannot be certain；” said my father。 “This murder has distressed me。 Our
enemies are apparently quite powerful。”
“I know； as well； that my own situation has emboldened them； giving rise
to misunderstandings and unfounded hopes。”
“How do you mean？”
“I ought to be wed as soon as possible。”
“What？” said my father。 “To whom？ But you are married。 Where did this
notion e from？” he asked。 “Who’s asked for your hand？ Even if we were to
find a reasonable and appealing prospect；” said my reasonable father； “I doubt
we’d be able to take him； not like that； you understand。” He summed up my
unfortunate situation as follows： “You’re aware that there are weighty and
plicated matters we must settle before you can marry again。” After a
protracted silence； he added； “Is it that you want to leave me； my dear
daughter？”
“Last night I dreamed that my husband had