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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
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