第60部分(第3/7 頁)

needles；　pieces　of　cloth　and　a　large　walnut。

When　I　took　up　the　crumpled　piece　of　rough　paper　and　examined　it；　I　saw　a

variety　of　shapes　drawn　in　ink　that　had　run　and　smudged　in　the　well　water。　I’d

just　determined　what　the　forms　were　when　Kalbiye　voiced　my　thoughts。

“Horses；”　she　said。　“But　late　Elegant　Effendi　only　did　gilding　work。　He　never

drew　horses。　And　no　one　would’ve　ever　asked　him　to　render　a　horse。”

Your elderly Esther was looking at the horses which had been quickly

sketched；　but　she　couldn’t　quite　make　anything　of　them。

“If　I　were　to　take　this　piece　of　paper　to　Shekure；　she’d　be　quite　pleased；”　I

said。

“If　Shekure　desires　to　see　these　sketches；　let　her　e　get　them　herself；”　said

Kalbiye　with　no　small　hint　of　conceit。

268

I　AM　CALLED　BLACK

Maybe　you’ve　understood　by　now　that　for　men　like　myself；　that　is；　melancholy

men for whom love； agony； happiness and misery are just excuses for

maintaining　eternal　loneliness；　life　offers　neither　great　joy　nor　great　sadness。

I’m　not　saying　we　can’t　relate　to　other　souls　overwhelmed　by　these　feelings；

on　the　contrary；　we　sympathize　with　them。　What　we　cannot　fathom　is　the　odd

disquiet our souls sink into at such times。 This silent turmoil dims our

intellects　and　dampens　our　hearts；　usurping　the　place　reserved　for　the　true　joy

and　sadness　we　ought　to　experience。

I　had　buried　her　father；　thank　God；　hurried　home　from　the　funeral；　and　in　a

gesture　of　condolence；　embraced　my　wife；　Shekure；　then　suddenly；　in　a　fit　of

tears　she　collapsed　onto　a　large　cushion　with　her　children；　who　were　glaring　at

me　with　spite；　and　I　didn’t　kno