第43部分(第7/7 頁)

ack in time； the

evening　prayers　hadn’t　yet　been　called。　I　climbed　the　stairs；　the　house　smelled

of　orange　jam。　My　father　was　in　his　darkened　room　with　the　blue　door；　my

feet　were　freezing。　I　entered　my　room　to　the　right　beside　the　stairs　holding　a

lamp；　and　when　I　saw　that　the　cabi　had　been　opened；　that　the　cushions　had

195

fallen out and the room had been ransacked； I assumed it was the naughty

work　of　Shevket　and　Orhan。　There　was　a　silence　in　the　house；　not　unusual；　yet

unlike the usual silence。 I donned my house clothes and sat alone in the

darkness； and as I gave myself over to momentary daydreaming； my mind

registered　a　noise　ing　from　below；　directly　below　me；　not　from　the　kitchen

but from the large room next to the stable； used in summertime as the

illustrating　workshop。　Had　my　father　gone　down　there；　in　this　cold？　I　didn’t

remember　seeing　the　light　of　an　oil　lamp　there；　suddenly；　I　heard　the　squeak　of

the　front　door　between　the　stone　walkway　and　the　courtyard；　and　afterward；

the　cursed　and　ominous　barking　of　the　pesky　dogs　roaming　past　the　courtyard

gate—I　was　alarmed；　to　put