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heard a momentary clattering; we both waited in silence; but nobody entered。
I recalled how even when she was only twelve; Shekure had aroused in me an
odd feeling because she knew more than I did。
“The ghost of the Hanged Jew haunts this place;” she said。
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“Do you ever e here?”
“Jinns; phantoms; the living dead…they e with the wind; possess
objects and make sounds out of silence。 Everything speaks。 I don’t have to
e all the way here。 I can hear them。”
“Shevket brought me here to show me the dead cat; but it was gone。”
“I understand you told him that you killed his father。”
“Not exactly。 Is that the way my words were twisted? Not that I killed his
father; rather that I’d like to bee his father。”
“Why did you say that you’d killed his father?”
“He’d asked me first if I’d ever killed a man。 I told him the truth; that I’d
killed two men。”
“In order to boast?”
“To boast; and to impress a child whose mother I love; because I realized
that this mother forted those two little brigands by exaggerating the
wartime heroics of their father and by showing off the remnants of his
plunder in the house。”
“Go on boasting then! They don’t like you。”
“Shevket doesn’t like me; but Orhan does;” I said; in the prideful glow of
having caught my beloved’s error。 “Yet; I shall bee father to them both。”
We shuddered anxiously and trembled in the half…light as though the
shadow of some nonexistent thing had passed between us。 I pulled myself
together and saw that Shekure was crying with tiny sobs。
“My ill…fated husband has