第5部分(第4/7 頁)

he　old　masters　of　Shiraz　and　Herat；”　I

said；　“claimed　that　a　miniaturist　would　have　to　sketch　horses　unceasingly　for

fifty years to be able to truly depict the horse that Allah envisioned and

desired。　They　claimed　that　the　best　picture　of　a　horse　should　be　drawn　in　the

dark； since a true miniaturist would go blind working over that fifty…year

period；　but　in　the　process；　his　hand　would　memorize　the　horse。”

The　innocent　expression　on　his　face；　the　one　I’d　also　seen　long　ago；　when

we were children； told me that he’d bee pletely absorbed in my

horses。

“They hire us； and we try to make the most mysterious； the most

unattainable　horse；　just　as　the　old　masters　did。　There’s　nothing　more　to　it。　It’s

unjust　of　them　to　hold　us　responsible　for　anything　more　than　the　illustration。”

“I’m not sure that’s correct；” he said。 “We； too； have responsibilities and

our　own　will。　I　fear　no　one　but　Allah。　It　was　He　who　provided　us　with　reason

that　we　might　distinguish　Good　from　Evil。”

It　was　an　appropriate　response。

“Allah sees and knows all…” I said in Arabic。 “He’ll know that you and I；

we’ve　done　this　work　without　being　aware　of　what　we　were　doing。　Who　will

you　notify　about　Enishte　Effendi？　Aren’t　you　aware　that　behind　this　affair　rests

the　will　of　His　Excellency　Our　Sultan？”

Silence。

I wondered whether he was really such a buffoon or whether his loss of

posure　and　ranting　had　sprung　out　of　a　sincere　fear　of　Allah。

We stopped at the mouth of the well。 In the darkness； I vaguely caught

sight　of　his　eyes　and　could　see　that　he　was　s