seemed that Enishte Effendi had instructed my masters as follows: “Don’t
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paint like yourselves; paint as if you were someone else。” He’d forced them to
recall nonexistent memories; to conjure and paint a future; which they’d never
want to live。 What was even more incredible was that they were killing each
other over this nonsense。
“By looking at these illustrations; can you tell me which miniaturist worked
on which picture?” asked the Head Treasurer。
“Yes;” I said angrily。 “Where did you find these paintings?”
“Black brought them of his own accord and left them with me;” said the
Head Treasurer。 “He’s bent on proving that he and his late Enishte are
innocent。”
“During the interrogation; torture him;” I said。 “That way we’ll learn what
other secrets our late Enishte was harboring。”
“We’ve sent for him;” said the mander of the Imperial Guard。
“Afterward; we’ll thoroughly search the house of that newlywed。”
Both their faces were strangely illuminated; a flicker of fear and awe
overcame them; and they snapped to their feet。
Without having to turn around I knew we were in the presence of His
Excellency; Our Sultan; the Refuge of the World。
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I AM ESTHER
Oh; how wonderful it is to cry along with the rest of them! While the men
were at the funeral of my dear Shekure’s father; the women; kith and kin;
spouses and friends; gathered in the house and shed their tears; and I; too;
beat my chest in mourning and wept with them。 Now wailing in unison with
the pretty maiden beside me; leaning on her and swaying back and forth; now
crying in a pletely different frame of mind; I was deeply touched by my
own woes and pitiful life。 If I could cry like this just once a week; I thought; I
might forget how I had to roam the streets all day just to make ends meet;
forget being mocked for my weight and my Jewishness and be reborn an even
more chattermouth Esther。
I like social gatherings because I can eat to my heart’s content; and; at the