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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第72部分

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Both  their  faces  were  strangely  illuminated;  a  flicker  of  fear  and  awe 
overcame them; and they snapped to their feet。 
Without  having  to  turn  around  I  knew  we  were  in  the  presence  of  His 
Excellency; Our Sultan; the Refuge of the World。 
 
 
   
262 
 
I AM ESTHER 
 
Oh;  how  wonderful  it  is  to  cry  along  with  the  rest  of  them!  While  the  men 
were  at  the  funeral  of  my  dear  Shekure’s  father;  the  women;  kith  and  kin; 
spouses  and  friends;  gathered  in  the  house  and  shed  their  tears;  and  I;  too; 
beat my chest in mourning and wept with them。 Now wailing in unison with 
the pretty maiden beside me; leaning on her and swaying back and forth; now 
crying  in  a  pletely  different  frame  of  mind;  I  was  deeply  touched  by  my 
own woes and pitiful life。 If I could cry like this just once a week; I thought; I 
might  forget  how  I  had  to  roam  the  streets  all  day  just  to  make  ends  meet; 
forget being mocked for my weight and my Jewishness and be reborn an even 
more chattermouth Esther。 
I like social gatherings because I can eat to my heart’s content; and; at the 
same  time;  forget  that  I’m  the  black  sheep  of  the  crowd。  I  love  the  baklava; 
mint candy; marzipan bread and fruit leather of holidays; the pilaf with meat 
and  the  tea…cup  pastries  of  circumcision  ceremonies;  drinking  sour…cherry 
sherbet  at  celebrations  held  by  the  Sultan  in  the  Hippodrome;  eating 
everything  at  weddings;  and  tossing  down  the  sesame;  honey  or  variously 
flavored condolence halvas sent by the neighbors at wakes。 
I  quietly  slipped  into  the  hallway;  put  on  my  shoes  and  went  downstairs。 
Before  I  turned  into  the  kitchen;  I  grew  curious  about  an  odd  noise  ing 
through the half…open door of the room next to the stable。 I took a few steps 
in that direction and glanced inside to discover that Shevket and Orhan had 
tied  up  the  son  of  one  of  the  women  mourners  and  were  in  the  midst  of 
painting his face with their late grandfather’s paints and brushes。 “If you try 
to escape; we’ll hit you like this;” Shevket said and slapped the boy。 
“My dear child; play nice and gentle now; don’t hurt each other; all right?” 
I said in a voice as velvety as I could muster。 
“Mind your own affairs!” Shevket shouted。 
I  noticed  the  small;  frightened;  blond…haired  sister  of  the  boy  they  were 
tormenting  standing  beside  them;  and  for  whatever  reason;  I  felt  for  her 
pletely。 Forget about it; now; Esther! 
In the kitchen; Hayriye peered at me suspiciously。 
“I’ve cried myself dry; Hayriye;” I said。 “For God’s sake; pour me a glass of 
water。” 
263 
 
She  did  so;  silently。  Before  I  drank  it;  I  stared  into  her  eyes;  swollen  from 
weeping。 
“Poor  Enishte  Effendi;  they  say  he  was  already  dead  before  Shekure’s 
wedding;” I mented。 “People’s mouths aren’t like bags that can be cinched 
up; some even claim there was foul play involved。” 
In an exaggerated gesture; she looked down at her toes。 Then she lifted her 
head  and  without  looking  at  me  said;  “May  God  protect  us  from  baseless 
slander。” 
Her first gesture confirmed what I’d said; and moreover the cadence of her 
words conveyed that they were spoken under duress—to hide the truth。 
“What’s going on?” I asked abruptly; whispering as if I were her confidant。 
Indecisive  Hayriye  had  of  course  understood  that  there  was  no  hope  of 
claiming any authority over Shekure after Enishte Effendi’s death。 And a short 
while ago; she was the one mourning with the most heartfelt tears。 
“What’s to bee of me; now?” she said。 
“Shekure  holds  you  in  high  regard;”  I  said  in  my  habit  of  giving  news。 
Lifting up the lids of the pots of halva lined up between the large clay jar of 
grape  molasses  and  the  pickle  jar;  sneaking  a  fingerful  from  one  or  simply 
leaning over to smell another; I asked who’d sent each of them。 
Hayriye  was  rattling  off  who’d  sent  which  pot:  “This  one’s  from  Kas?m 
Effendi of Kayseri; this one; the assistant from the miniaturists division who 
lives two streets over; that’s from the locksmith; Left…Handed Hamdi; that one; 
the young bride from Edirne—” when Shekure interrupted her。 
“Kalbiye;  the  late  Elegant  Effendi’s  widow;  didn’t  e  to  offer  her 
condolences; didn’t send word and didn’t send any halva either!” 
She was heading from the kitchen door to the foot of the stairs。 I followed 
her; knowing that she wanted to have a word with me in private。 
“There was no ill…will between Elegant Effendi and my father。 On the day of 
Elegant’s funeral; we prepared our halva and sent it to them。 I want to know 
what’s going on;” Shekure said。 
“I’ll go right away and find out;” I said; anticipating Shekure’s thoughts。 
Since I kept our chat brief; she kissed me on the cheek。 As the cold of the 
courtyard  bit  into  us;  we  embraced  and  stood  there  without  moving。 
Afterward; I stroked my beautiful Shekure’s hair。 
264 
 
“Esther; I’m afraid;” she said。 
“My  dear;  don’t  be  afraid;”  I  said。  “Every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining。  Look; 
you’re finally married。” 
“But I’m not sure I did the right thing;” she said。 “That’s why I haven’t let 
him get near me。 I spent the night beside my unfortunate father。” 
She  opened  her  eyes  wide  and  looked  at  me  in  a  way  that  said;  You 
understand what I mean。 
“Hasan  claims  that  your  wedding  is  null  in  the  eyes  of  the  judge;”  I  said。 
“He sent this to you。” 
Though she said; “No more;” she immediately opened the small note and 
read; but this time she didn’t tell me what it contained。 
She was right to be discreet; we weren’t alone in the courtyard where we’d 
stood  embracing:  Above  us;  a  smirking  carpenter;  reattaching  the  shutter  of 
the  hall  window;  which  fell  and  broke  for  some  unknown  reason  that 
morning;   was   also   eyeing   both   us   and   the   women   mourning   inside。 
Meanwhile; Hayriye came out of the house and rushed to open the door for 
the son of a loyal neighbor who’d called out; “the halva’s here;” as he knocked 
on the courtyard gate。 
“It’s been quite some time since we buried him;” said Shekure。 “I can now 
sense that my poor father’s soul is leaving his body for good and rising into 
the heavens。” 
She removed herself from my arms; and gazing up at the bright sky; recited 
a long prayer。 
I suddenly felt so distant and estranged from Shekure that it wouldn’t have 
surprised me if I were the cloud she was gazing at。 As soon as she finished her 
prayer; pretty Shekure kissed me affectionately on both cheeks。 
“Esther;” she said; “so long as my father’s murderer roams free; there’ll be 
no peace in this world for me or my children。” 
It pleased me that she didn’t mention her new husband’s name。 
“Go  to  Elegant  Effendi’s  house;  talk  casually  to  his  widow  and  learn  why 
they didn’t send us any halva。 Let me know immediately what you find out。” 
“Do you have any messages for Hasan?” I said。 
I  felt  embarrassed;  not  because  I’d  asked  this  question;  but  because  I 
couldn’t  look  her  in  the  eye  as  I  did  so。  To  cover  up  my  embarrassment;  I 
265 
 
stopped Hayriye and opened the lid of the pot she was holding。 “Ohh;” I said; 
“semolina halva with pistachios;” as I had a taste。 “And they’ve added oranges; 
too。” 
It  made  me  happy  to  see  Shekure  smile  sweetly  as  if  everything  were 
happening as planned。 
I grabbed my bundle and left。 I’d taken no more than two steps when I saw 
Black at the end of the street。 He’d just e from the burial of his father…in…
law; and I could tell from his beaming face that this new husband was quite 
pleased  with  his  life。  In  order  not  to  dampen  his  spirits;  I  left  the  street; 
entered the vegetable rows and passed through the garden of the house where 
the brother of the lover of the famous Jewish doctor Moshe Hamon had lived 
before he was hanged。 This garden; which recalled death; always brought such 
great  sadness  upon  me  when  I  walked  through  it  that  I  invariably  forgot  I’d 
been charged to find a buyer for the property。 
The  air  of  death  was  also  in  Elegant  Effendi’s  house;  though  for  me  it 
provoked  no  sadness。  I  was  Esther;  a  woman  who  went  in  and  out  of 
thousands  of  homes  and  was  acquainted  with  hundreds  of  widows;  I  knew 
that  women  who  lost  their  husbands  early  were  spellbound  either  by  defeat 
and  misery  or  anger  and  rebellion  (although  Shekure  had  suffered  all  these 
afflictions)。 Kalbiye had partaken of the poison of anger and I fast realized that 
this would serve to hasten my work。 
As  with  all  conceited  women  to  whom  life  has  been  cruel;  Kalbiye  quite 
rightly suspected that all her visitors came to pity her in her darkest hour; or 
even  worse;  to  witness  her  agony  and  secretly  rejoice  in  their  own  bet

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