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迪文小说>我的名字是红色 > 第97部分(第1页)

第97部分(第1页)

ask  me  whether  all  of  this  was  indeed  correct;  whether  there  wasn’t  any

recourse  and  whether  we’d  truly  burn  in  Hell。  He  suffered  fits  of  regret  and

beat his breast in remorse; but I was unpersuaded。 He was an imposter who

feigned regret。“

“How did you know this?”

“We’ve  known  Elegant  Effendi  since  childhood。  He’s  very  orderly;  quiet;

ordinary and colorless; like his gilding。 It was as if the man standing before me

then  was  dumber;  more  naive;  more  devout;  yet  more  superficial  than  the

Elegant we knew。”

“I hear he’d also bee quite close to the Erzurumis;” said Black。

“No  Muslim  would  ever  feel  such  torment  and  regret  for  inadvertently

mitting a sin;” I said。 “A good Muslim knows God is just and reasonable

enough to consider the intent of His servants。 Only pea…brained ignoramuses

believe they’ll go to Hell for eating pork unawares。 Anyway; a genuine Muslim

knows  the  fear  of  damnation  serves  to  frighten  others;  not  himself。  This  is

what Elegant Effendi was doing; you see; he wanted to scare me。 It was your

Enishte who taught him that he might do such a thing; and it was then I knew

that  this  was  indeed  the  case。  Now;  tell  me  in  plete  honesty;  my  dear

illuminator brethren; has the blood begun to clot in my eyes; have my eyes lost

their color?”

They brought the lamp toward my face and gazed at it; displaying the care

and passion of surgeons。

“Nothing seems to have changed。”

Were these three; staring into my eyes; the last sight I’d see in this world? I

knew  I’d  never  forget  these  moments  until  the  end  of  my  life;  and  I  related

what follows; because despite my regret; I also felt hope:

“Your  Enishte  taught  Elegant  Effendi  that  he  was  involved  in  some

forbidden project by covering up the final picture; by revealing only a specific

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spot to each of us and having us draw something there—by giving the picture

an air of mystery and secrecy; it was Enishte himself who instilled the fear of

heresy。 He; not the Erzurumis who’ve never seen an illuminated manuscript in

their lives; was the first to spread the frenzy and panic about sin that infected

us。 Meanwhile; what would an artist with a clear conscience have to fear?”

“There’s much that an artist with a clear conscience has to fear in our day;”

said Black smugly。 “Indeed; no one has anything to say against decoration; but

pictures  are  forbidden  by  our  faith。  Because  the  illustrations  of  the  Persian

masters  and  even  the  masterpieces  of  the  greatest  masters  of  Herat  are

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