第75部分(第7/7 頁)

ach　here

once　again；　they’ll　cut　out　the　storyteller’s　tongue　and　lower　this　coffeehouse

about　his　head。

One hundred and twenty years ago； there being no coffee then； the

respected　Hoja；　whose　story　we’ve　begun；　was　simply　steaming　with　rage。

“Hey；　Frank　infidel；　why　are　you　drawing　these　two？”　he　was　saying。　“These

wretched　Kalenderi　dervishes　wander　around　thieving　and　begging；　they　take

hashish； drink wine； bugger each other； and as is evident from the way they

look； know nothing of performing or reciting prayers； nothing of house； or

home；　or　family；　they’re　nothing　but　the　dregs　of　this　good　world　of　ours。　And

you； why are you painting this picture of disgrace when there’s so much

beauty　in　this　great　country？　Is　it　to　disgrace　us？”

“Not　at　all；　it’s　simply　because　illustrations　of　your　bad　side　bring　in　more

money；” said the infidel。 We two dervishes were dumbfounded at the

soundness　of　the　painter’s　reasoning。

“If it brought you more money； would you paint the Devil in a favorable

light？”　the　Hoja　Effendi　said；　coyly　trying　to