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whispered　into　his　ear。　Because

the jibes at the preacher from Erzurum at once exhilarated the artists； who

lived in terror of the preacher’s wrath； and drew more customers to the

coffeehouse；　the　proprietor　from　Edirne　encouraged　the　performances。

They asked me my interpretation of the pictures the storyteller hung up

behind himself each night； the ones they found during their raid of brother

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Olive’s empty house。 I explained that there was no need for interpretation

because　the　proprietor；　like　Olive　himself；　was　a　begging；　thieving；　wild　wretch

of a Kalenderi dervish。 The simple…minded Elegant Effendi； terrified of Hoja

Effendi’s exhortations； and especially of his fire…and…brimstone Friday

sermons； must’ve plained of them to the Erzurumis。 Or even more

probable；　when　Elegant　warned　them　to　stop　in　their　mischief；　the　proprietor

and　Olive；　both　of　the　same　temperament；　conspired　to　cruelly　do　away　with

the ill…fated gilder。 The Erzurumis； incited by Elegant’s murder； and perhaps

because Elegant Effendi had described Enishte’s book to them； held Enishte

responsible for the murder and killed him； and； they must’ve raided the

coffeehouse　to　plete　their　revenge。

How　much　attention　were　chubby　Butterfly　and　grave　Black　（he　was　like　a

ghost）　paying　to　what　I　said　as　they　ransacked　my　possessions；　gleefully　lifting

every　lid　and　leaving　not　a　stone　unturned？　When　they　came　across　my　boots；

armor　and　bellished　walnut　trunk；　a　look　of　envy

blossomed on Butterfly’s childish face； and I once aga