第26部分(第7/7 頁)

siveness　with

which　my　Enishte　sent　me　to　his　illustrators　and　his　despair　when　he　ordered

me　to　e　this　morning—all　of　it　made　me　quite　uneasy。

In　the　morning；　as　soon　as　my　Enishte　asked　me　to　sit　before　him；　he　began

to　describe　the　portraits　he　saw　in　Venice。　As　the　ambassador　of　Our　Sultan；

Refuge　of　the　ber　of　palazzos；　churches　and　the

houses　of　prosperous　men。　Over　a　period　of　days；　he　stood　before　thousands

of　portraits。　He　saw　thousands　of　framed　faces　depicted　on　stretched　canvas　or

wood or painted directly onto walls。 “Each one was different from the next。

They were distinctive； unique human faces！” he said。 He was intoxicated by

their variety； their colors； the pleasantness—even severity—of the soft light

that　seemed　to　fall　on　them　and　the　meaning　emanating　from　their　eyes。

“As　if　a　virulent　plague　had　struck；　everyone　was　having　his　portrait　made；”

he said。 “In all of Venice； rich and influential men wanted their portraits

painted　as　a　symbol；　a　memento　of　their　lives　and　a　sign　of　their　riches；