《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第179章

thoughtfully；　“what　the　dearly　departed　expressed　to　me　in　his　last　moments　
started　to　gnaw　at　me　like　a　worm。　Having　caused　me　to　bloody　my　hands；　the　
final　painting　loomed　larger　in　my　mind；　and　so；　resolving　to　see　it；　I　went　to　
your　Enishte；　who　no　longer　summoned　any　of　us　to　his　house。　Not　only　did　
he refuse to reveal the painting； he behaved as if nothing were the matter。　
There　was；　he　sniffled；　neither　a　painting　nor　anything　else　so　mysterious　that　
it　called　for　murder！　To　preempt　further　humiliation；　and　to　get　his　attention；　I　
thereupon　confessed　that　I　was　the　one　who　killed　Elegant　Effendi　and　tossed　
him into a well。 Yes； then he took me more seriously； but he continued to　
humiliate me all the same。 How could a man who humiliates his son be a　
father？　Great　Master　Osman　would　bee　irate　with　us；　he’d　beat　us；　but　he　
never once humiliated us。 Oh my brothers； we’ve made a grave mistake by　
betraying　him。”　
I smiled at my brethren whose attention was focused upon my eyes；　
listening　to　me　as　though　I　lay　on　my　deathbed。　Just　as　a　dying　man　would；　I　
saw　them　growing　increasingly　blurry　and　moving　away　from　me。　
“I murdered your Enishte for two reasons。 First； because he shamelessly　
forced the great Master Osman into aping the Veian artist； Sebastiano。　
Second； because in a moment of weakness； I lowered myself to ask him　
whether　I　had　a　style　of　my　own。”　
428　
“How　did　he　respond？”　
“It　seems　I　am　possessed　of　a　style。　But　ing　from　him；　of　course；　this　
was　not　an　insult。　I　remembered　wondering；　in　my　shame；　if　this　were　indeed　
praise： I considered style to be a variety of rootlessness and dishonor； but　
doubt　was　eating　at　me。　I　wanted　nothing　to　do　with　style；　but　the　Devil　was　
tempting　me　and　I　was；　furthermore；　curious。”　
“Everybody　secretly　desires　to　have　a　style；”　said　Black　smartly。　“Everybody　
also　desires　to　have　his　portrait　made；　just　as　Our　Sultan　did。”　
“Is　this　affliction　impossible　to　resist？”　I　said。　“As　this　plague　spreads；　none　
of　us　will　be　able　to　stand　against　the　methods　of　the　Europeans。”　
No　one　was　listening　to　me；　however。　Black　was　recounting　the　story　of　a　
sad Turkmen chieftain who was sent off on a twelve…year exile to China　
because he’d prematurely expressed his love for the daughter of the shah。　
Since he didn’t have a portrait of his beloved； of whom he dreamed for a　
dozen years； he forgot her face amid the Chinese beauties； and his lovelorn　
suffering　was　transformed　into　a　profound　trial　willed　by　Allah。　
“Thanks to your Enishte； we’ve all learned the meaning of ”portrait；“” I　
said。　“God　willing；　one　day；　we’ll　fearlessly　tell　the　story　of　our　own　lives　the　
way　we　actually　live　them。”　
“All　fables　are　everybody’s　fables；”　said　Black。　
“All　illumination　is　God’s　illumination　too；”　I　said；　pleting　the　verse　by　
the poet Hatifi of Herat。 “But as the methods of the Europeans spread；　
everyone　will　consider　it　a　special　talent　to　tell　other　men’s　stories　as　if　they　
were　one’s　own。”　
“This　is　nothing　but　the　will　of　Satan。”　
“Unhand　me　now；”　I　shouted。　“Let　me　look　upon　the　world　one　last　time。”　
They　were　terrified；　and　a　new　confidence　rose　within　me。　
“Will　you　take　out　the　final　picture？”　Black　said。　
I　gave　Black　such　a　look　that　he　was　quick　to　understand　I’d　do　so　and　he　
released　me。　My　heart　began　to　beat　rapidly。　
I’m　certain　you’ve　long　ago　discovered　my　identity；　which　I’ve　been　trying　
to　conceal。　Even　so；　don’t　be　surprised　that　I’m　behaving　like　the　old　masters　
of　Herat；　for　they　would　conceal　their　signatures　not　to　hide　their　identities；　
but　out　of　principle　and　respect　for　their　masters。　Excitedly；　I　walked　through　
the　pitch…black　rooms　of　the　lodge；　oil　lamp　in　hand；　making　way　for　my　own　
429　
pale　shadow。　Had　the　curtain　of　blackness　begun　to　fall　over　my　eyes；　or　were　
these rooms and hallways truly this dark？ How many days and weeks； how　
much　time　did　I　have　before　going　blind？　My　shadow　and　I　stopped　among　
the　ghosts　in　the　kitchen　and　lifted　up　the　pages　from　the　clean　corner　of　a　
dusty cabi before quickly heading back。 Black had followed me as a　
precaution； but he’d neglected to bring his dagger。 Would I； perchance；　
consider　taking　up　that　dagger　and　blinding　him　before　I　myself　went　blind？　
“I’m　pleased　that　I　will　see　this　once　again　before　going　blind；”　I　said　with　
pride。　“I　want　you　all　to　see　it　as　well。　Look　here。”　
Under　the　light　of　the　oil　lamp；　I　showed　them　the　final　picture；　which　I’d　
taken from Enishte’s house the day I killed him。 At first； I watched their　
curious and timid expressions as they looked at the double…leaf picture。 I　
circled　around　and　joined　them；　and　I　was　ever　so　faintly　trembling　as　I　stared。　
The　lancing　of　my　eyes；　or　perhaps　a　sudden　rapture；　made　me　feverish。　
The pictures we made on various parts of the two pages over the past　
year—tree； horse； Satan； Death； dog and woman—were arranged； large and　
small；　according　to　Enishte’s　albeit　inept　new　method　of　position；　in　such　
a　way　that　the　dearly　departed　Elegant　Effendi’s　gilding　and　borders　made　us　
feel　we　were　no　longer　looking　at　a　page　from　a　book　but　at　the　world　seen　
through a window。 In the center of this world； where Our Sultan should’ve　
been； was my own portrait； which I briefly observed with pride。 I was　
somewhat　unsatisfied　with　it　because　after　laboring　in　vain　for　days；　looking　
into a mirror and erasing and reworking； I was unable to achieve a good　
resemblance；　still；　I　felt　unbridled　elation　because　the　picture　not　only　situated　
me at the center of a vast world； but for some unaccountable and diabolic　
reason；　it　made　me　appear　more　profound；　plicated　and　mysterious　than　I　
actually　was。　I　wanted　only　that　my　artist　brethren　recognize；　understand　and　
share　in　my　exuberanc