第66部分(第2/7 頁)

would impress his master。 “We could pare the

colors　and　embroidery　of　the　saddle　blanket　to　those　in　the　other　pictures。”

“My master miniaturists wouldn’t even deign to lower a brush to these

designs。 Apprentices draw the clothes； carpets and blankets in the pictures。

Perhaps　the　late　Elegant　Effendi　might’ve　done　them。　Forget　them。”

“What　about　the　ears？”　I　said　in　a　fluster。　“The　ears　of　the　horses…”

“No。　These　ears　haven’t　changed　form　since　the　time　of　Tamerlane；　they’re

just　like　the　leaves　of　reeds；　which　we　well　know。”

I was about to say； “What about the braiding of the mane and the

depiction　of　every　strand　of　its　hair；”　but　I　fell　silent；　not　at　all　amused　by　this

master…apprentice　game。　If　I’m　the　apprentice；　I　ought　to　know　my　place。

“Take　a　look　here；”　said　Master　Osman　with　the　distressed　yet　attentive　air

of　a　doctor　pointing　out　a　plague　pustule　to　a　colleague。　“Do　you　see　it？”

He’d moved the magnifying lens over the horse’s head and was slowly

pulling　it　away　from　the　surface　of　the　picture。　I　lowered　my　head　to　better　see

what　was　being　enlarged　through　the　lens。

The　horse’s　nose　was　peculiar：　its　nostrils。

“Do　you　see　it？”　said　Master　Osman。

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To　be　certain　of　what　I　saw；　I　thought　I　should　center　myself　right　behind

the　lens。　When　Master　Osman　did　likewise；　we　met　cheek　to　cheek　just　behind

the lens that was now quite a distance from the picture。 It momentarily

alarmed　me　to　feel　the　harshness　of　the　master’s　dry　beard　and　the　coolness　of

his　cheek　on　my　face。

A silence。 It was as if something wondrous were happe