波波小说

第40部分（第1页）

“I’m　not　afraid　of　them；”　Enishte　said；　“because　I’m　not　afraid　of　death。”

178

Who　　were　　“they”？　　I　　nodded　　as　　if　　I　　understood。　　Yet　　annoyance　　began　　to

mount　within　me。　I　noticed　that　the　old　volume　immediately　beside　Enishte

was　El…Jevziyye’s　Book　of　the　Soul。　All　dotards　who　seek　death　share　a　love　for

this　book　that　recounts　the　adventures　that　await　the　soul。　Since　I’d　been　here

last；　I　saw　only　one　new　item　among　the　objects　collected　in　trays；　resting　on

the　　chest；　　among　　the　　pen　　cases；　　penknives；　　nib…cutting　　boards；　　inkwells　　and

brushes：　a　bronze　inkpot。

“Let’s　establish；　once　and　for　all；　that　we　do　not　fear　them；”　I　said　boldly。

“Take　out　the　last　illustration。　Let’s　show　it　to　them。”

“But　wouldn’t　this　prove　that　we　minded　their　slander；　at　least　enough　to

take　it　seriously？　We’ve　done　nothing　of　which　we　ought　to　be　afraid。　What

could　justify　your　being　so　frightened？”

He　stroked　my　hair　like　a　father。　I　was　afraid　that　I　might　burst　into　tears

again；　I　embraced　him。

“I　　know　　why　　that　　unfortunate　　gilder　　Elegant　　Effendi　　was　　killed；”　　I　　said

excitedly。　“By　slandering　you；　your　book　and　us；　Elegant　Effendi　was　planning

to　　set　　Nusret　　Hoja　　of　　Erzurum’s　　men　　upon　　us。　　He　　was　　convinced　　that　　we’d

fallen　sway　to　the　Devil。　He’d　begun　spreading　such　rumors；　trying　to　incite

the　　other　　miniaturists　　working　　on　　your　　book　　to　　rebel　　against　　you。　　I　　don’t

know　why　he　suddenly　began　to　do　this。　Perhaps　out　of　jealousy；　perhaps　he’d

e　　under　　Satan’s　　influence。　　And　　the　　other　　miniaturists　　also　　heard　　how

determined　Elegant　Effendi　was　to　destroy　us　all。　You　can　imagine　how　each　of

them　grew　frightened　and　succumbed　to　suspicions　as　I　myself　had。　Because

one　of　their　lot　was　cornered；　in　the　middle　of　the　night；　by　Elegant　Effendi—

who　had　incited　him　against　you；　us；　our　book；　as　well　as　against　illustrating；

painting　　and　　all　　else　　we　　believe　　in—that　　artist　　fell　　into　　a　　panic；　　killing　　that

scoundrel　and　tossing　his　body　into　a　well。”

“Scoundrel？”

“Elegant　Effendi　was　an　ill…natured；　ill…bred　traitor。　Villain！”　I　shouted　as　if

he　were　before　me　in　the　room。

Silence。　Did　he　fear　me？　I　was　afraid　of　myself。　It　was　as　if　I’d　succumbed　to

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