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第46部分(第3页)

spreads me onto the waiting page; I bee delightfully ticklish。 Thereby; as I

bring my color to the page; it’s as if I mand the world to “Be!” Yes; those

who cannot see would deny it; but the truth is I can be found everywhere。

207

I; SHEKURE

Before the children awoke; I wrote Black a brief note telling him to hurry to

the house of the Hanged Jew and pressed it into Hayriye’s hand so that she

might rush to Esther。 As Hayriye took the letter; she looked into my eyes with

more fearlessness than usual despite worrying what was to bee of us; and

I;  who  no  longer  had  a  father  to  fear;  returned  her  glare  with  newfound

temerity。 This exchange would determine the tone of our relationship in the

future。 Over the last two years; I suspected Hayriye might even have a child by

my father; and forgetting her status as slave; maneuver to bee lady of the

house。  I  visited  my  unfortunate  father;  respectfully  kissing  his  now  stiffened

hand;  which;  oddly;  hadn’t  lost  its  softness。  I  hid  my  father’s  shoes;  quilted

turban and purple cloak; then explained to the children once they awoke that

their grandfather had gotten better and had left for the Mustafa Pasha district

early in the morning。

Hayriye returned from her morning errand。 As she was laying out the low

table for breakfast; and I was placing a portion of orange jam in the middle of

it;  I  imagined  how  Esther  was  now  calling  at  Black’s  door。  The  snow  had

stopped and the sun had begun to shine。

In the garden of the Hanged Jew; I encountered a familiar scene。 The icicles

hanging  from  the  eaves  and  window  casings  were  quickly  shrinking;  and  the

garden that smelled of mold and rotting leaves was eagerly absorbing the sun。 I

found Black waiting in the spot where I’d first seen him last night—it seemed

so long ago; as if weeks had passed。 I raised my veil and said:

“You  can  be  glad;  if  you  feel  the  urge。  My  father’s  objections  and  doubts

will not e between us anymore。 While you were craftily trying to lay your

hands on me here last night; a devil…of…a…man broke into our empty house and

murdered my father。”

Rather  than  wondering  about  Black’s  reaction;  you’re  probably  puzzling

over why I spoke so coldly and somewhat insincerely。 I don’t quite know the

answer myself。 Maybe I thought I’d cry otherwise; provoking Black to embrace

me; and I’d bee intimate with him sooner than I wanted。

“He destroyed our home with a thoroughness that clearly reveals anger and

hatred。  I  don’t  think  his  work  is  done  either;  I  don’t  expect  this  devil  will

calmly retire to some corner now。 He stole the final picture。 I’m calling on you

to  protect  me—protect  us—and  keep  my  father’s  book  from  him。  Now  tell

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