“Are you a relative of hers?”
I was so embarrassed at having fallen so abruptly and unexpectedly into
groveling meekness before the judge’s proxy; at having bared my life like some
dull object devoid of any mystery; that I fell pletely silent。
“Instead of turning beet red; give me an answer; young man; lest I refuse to
grant her a divorce。”
“She’s the daughter of my maternal aunt。”
“Hmmm; I see。 Will you be able to make her happy?”
When he asked the question he made a vulgar hand gesture。 The
miniaturist should omit this indelicacy。 It’d be enough for him to show how
much I blushed。
“I make a decent living。”
“As I belong to the Shafü sect; there is nothing contrary to the Holy Book or
my creed in my granting the divorce of this unfortunate Shekure; whose
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husband has been missing at the front for four years;” said the Proxy Effendi。
“I grant the divorce。 And I rule that her husband no longer has any
superceding rights should he return。”
The subsequent illustration; that is; the fourth; ought to depict the proxy
recording the divorce in the ledger; unleashing obedient armies of black…ink
letters; before presenting me with the document declaring that my Shekure is
now a widow and there is no obstacle to her immediate remarriage。 Neither
by painting the walls of the courtroom red; nor by situating the picture within
bloodred borders could the blissful inner radiance I felt at that moment be
expressed。 Running back through the crowd of false witnesses and other men
gathering before the judge’s door seeking divorces for their sisters; daughters
or even aunts; I set out on my return journey。
After I crossed the Bosphorus and headed directly to the Yakutlar
neighborhood; I dismissed both the considerate Imam Effendi; who wanted to
perform the marriage ceremony; and his brother。 Since I suspected everyone I
saw on the street of hatching some mischief out of jealousy over the incredible
happiness I was on the verge of attaining; I ran straight to Shekure’s street。
How had the ominous crows divined the presence of a body in the house and
taken to hopping around excitedly on the terra…cotta shingles? I was overe
by guilt because I hadn’t been able to grieve for my Enishte or even shed a
single tear; even so; I knew from the tightly closed shutters and door of the
house; from the silence; and even from the look of the pomegranate tree that
everything was proceeding as planned。
I was acting intuitively in a great haste。 I tossed a stone at the courtyard