ce,”  me tell you anotory related to t legend t you don’t kno’s true,  t ty years of ing doions inspired by er years, o realize t tions of artists ed as models of form trations  tures in tely,  of ttempted to find ures and destroy t young miniaturists less books, rating otories, o be memorized by all and  book after book and illustration after illustration, o learn t painter does not content ing us erpieces; ultimately, urist’s artistry enters our souls t becomes terion for ty of our  ter of Isfa,  only nessed t t ead of disappearing, actually proliferated and increased; ood t everybody no. t resemble tings h were now considered ugly.”

    Unable to rein in tirring o control my desire to please Enishte Effendi, I fell

    before ears and I felt I o  er Osman.

    “A miniaturist,” said Enisone of a self-satisfied man, “creates  by tention to o say.”

    But it occurred to me t Enis even a miniaturist as I kissed tled ears. I . It ion into my oo knoatement is.

    “I’m not afraid of te said, “because I’m not afraid of death.”

    ood. Yet annoyance began to mount iced t tely beside Enisards s tures t a t, I saem among ts collected in trays, resting on t, among tting boards, inkwells and brus.

    “Let’s establis  fear take out t illustration. Let’s s to them.”

    “But  t  least enougo take it seriously? e’ve done not to be afraid.  could justify your being so frightened?”

    roked my  I mig into tears again; I embraced him.

    “I knounate gilder