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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第130章

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awe  toward  him。  On  the  other  hand;  I  couldn’t  restrain  myself  from  feeling 
profound  respect  for  this  great  master  who  now  gave  himself  over  to  the 
picture  before  him  and;  blind  or  half  blind;  was  peering  at  it  closely  as  if 
looking with the countless wrinkles of his old face。 It dawned on me that to 
preserve the old style and the regimen of the miniaturists’ workshop; to rid 
himself of Enishte’s book and to bee again the Sultan’s only favorite; he 
would gladly surrender any one of his master miniaturists; and me as well; to 
the  torturers  of  the  mander  of  the  Imperial  Guard。  I  furiously  began  to 
think of freeing myself from the love that bound me to him over the last two 
days。 
363 
 
Much  later;  I  was  still  pletely  confused。  I  stared  randomly  at  the 
illuminated pages of the volumes I extracted from chests solely to appease the 
demons that had risen within me and to distract my jinns of indecision。 
How many men and women had fingers in their mouths! This was used as 
a  gesture  of  surprise  in  all  the  workshops  from  Samarkand  to  Baghdad  over 
the  last  two  hundred  years。  As  the  hero  Keyhüsrev;  cornered  by  his  enemies; 
safely crossed the rushing Oxus River aided by his black charger and Allah; the 
wretched raftsman and his oarsman; who refused to offer him safe passage on 
their  raft  each  had  a  finger  in  his  mouth。  An  astonished  Hüsrev’s  finger 
remained in his mouth as he saw for the first time the beauty of Shirin; whose 
skin  was  like  moonlight  as  she  bathed  in  the  once  glimmering  lake  whose 
silver  leaf  had  tarnished。  I  spent  even  more  time  carefully  examining  the 
gorgeous  women  of  the  harem  who;  with  fingers  in  their  mouths;  stood 
behind half…opened palace doors; at the inaccessible windows of castle towers 
and peered from behind curtains。 As Tejav; defeated by the armies of Persia to 
lose  his  crown;  was  fleeing  the  battlefield;  Espinuy;  a  beauty  of  beauties  and 
his  harem  favorite;  watched  with  sorrow  and  shock  from  a  palace  window; 
finger in mouth; begging him with her eyes not to abandon her to the enemy。 
As  Joseph;  arrested  under  Züleyha’s  false  accusation  that  he  raped  her;  was 
being taken to his cell; she stared from her window; a finger in her beautiful 
mouth in a show of devilishness and lust rather than bewilderment。 As happy 
yet somber lovers who emerged as if from a love poem were carried away by 
the force of passion and wine in a garden reminiscent of Paradise; a malicious 
lady servant spied on them with an envious finger in her red mouth。 
Despite  its  being  a  standard  image  recorded  in  the  notebooks  and 
memories of all miniaturists; the long finger sliding into a beautiful woman’s 
mouth had a different elegance each time。 
How  much  did  these  illustrations  fort  me?  As  dusk  fell;  I  went  to 
Master Osman and said the following: 
“My  dear  master;  when  the  portal  is  opened  once  again;  with  your 
permission; I shall quit the Treasury。” 
“How do you mean!” he said。 “We still have one night and one morning。 
How quickly your eyes have had their fill of the greatest illustrations the world 
has ever known!” 
As he said this; he hadn’t turned his face away from the page before him; 
yet the paleness in his pupils confirmed he was indeed gradually going blind。 
“We’ve learned the secret of the horse’s nostrils;” I said confidently。 
364 
 
“Ha!”  he  said。  “Yes!  The  rest  is  up  to  Our  Sultan  and  the  Head  Treasurer。 
Perhaps they will pardon us all。” 
Would he name Stork as the murderer? I couldn’t even ask out of fear; for I 
worried  he  wouldn’t  allow  me  to  leave。  Even  worse;  I  had  the  recurring 
thought that he might accuse me。 
“The plume needle Bihzad used to blind himself is missing;” he said。 
“In all probability the dwarf put it back in its place;” I said。 “The page before 
you is so magnificent!” 
His face lit up like a child’s; and he smiled。 “Hüsrev; burning with love; as 
he  waits  astride  his  horse  for  Shirin  before  her  palace  in  the  middle  of  the 
night;” he said。 “Rendered in the style of the old masters of Herat。” 
He was now gazing at the picture as if he could see it; but he hadn’t even 
taken the magnifying glass into his hand。 
“Can  you  see  the  splendor  in  the  leaves  of  the  trees  in  the  nighttime 
darkness;  appearing  one  by  one  as  if  illuminated  from  within  like  stars  or 
spring  flowers;  the  humble  patience  implied  by  the  wall  ornamentation;  the 
refinement  in  the  use  of  gold  leaf  and  the  delicate  balance  in  the  entire 
painting’s position? Handsome Hüsrev’s horse is as graceful and elegant as 
a woman。 His beloved Shirin waits at the window above him; her neck bowed; 
but her face proud。 It’s as if the lovers are to remain here eternally within the 
light emanating from the painting’s texture; skin and subtle colors which were 
applied lovingly by the miniaturist。 You can see how their faces are turned ever 
so slightly toward one another while their bodies are half…turned toward us—
for  they  know  they’re  in  a  painting  and  thus  visible  to  us。  This  is  why  they 
don’t try to resemble exactly those figures which we see around us。 Quite to 
the contrary; they signify that they’ve emerged from Allah’s memory。 This is 
why time has stopped for them within that picture。 No matter how fast the 
pace of the story they tell in the picture; they themselves will remain for all 
eternity there; like well…bred; polite; shy young maidens; without making any 
sudden gestures with their hands; arms; slight bodies or even eyes。 For them; 
everything  within  the  navy…blue  night  is  frozen:  The  bird  flies  through  the 
darkness; among the stars; with a fluttering like the racing hearts of the lovers 
themselves; and at the same time; remains fixed for all eternity as if nailed to 
the sky in this matchless moment。 The old masters of Herat; who knew that 
God’s velvet blackness was lowering over their eyes like a curtain; also knew 
that if they went blind while staring motionless at such an illustration for days 
365 
 
and  weeks  on  end;  their  souls  would  at  last  mingle  with  the  eternity  of  the 
picture。” 
At  the  time  of  the  evening  prayer;  when  the  portal  of  the  Treasury  was 
opened  with  the  same  ceremony  and  under  the  gaze  of  the  same  throng; 
Master  Osman  was  still  staring  intently  at  the  page  before  him;  at  the  bird 
that floated motionless in the sky。 But if you noticed the paleness in his pupils 
you’d  also  realize  that  he  stared  at  the  page  quite  oddly;  as  blind  men 
sometimes incorrectly orient themselves to the food before them。 
The officers of the Treasury detail; learning that Master Osman would stay 
inside and that Jezmi Agha was at the door; neglected to search me thoroughly 
and never found the plume needle I hid in my undergarment。 When I emerged 
onto  the  streets  of  I
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