ion I could scarcely keep from

grinning stupidly at my Enishte。 Wasn’t this proof enough that Shekure

passionately　desired　me？　Suddenly；　I　imagined　us　engaged　in　a　mad　frenzy　of

lovemaking。 So profoundly convinced was I that this incredible event I’d

conjured was imminent that my manhood inappropriately began to rise—

there in the presence of my Enishte。 Had Shekure witnessed this？ I focused

intently on what my Enishte was explaining in order to redirect my

concentration。

Much later； while my Enishte came near to show me another illustrated

plate from his book； I discreetly unfolded the note； which smelled of

honeysuckle； only to discover that she’d left it pletely blank。 I couldn’t

believe　my　eyes　and　senselessly　turned　the　paper　over　and　over；　examining　it。

“A window；” said my Enishte。 “Using perspectival techniques is like

regarding　the　world　from　a　window—what　is　that　you　are　holding？”

“It’s　nothing；　Enishte　Effendi；”　I　said。　When　he　looked　away；　I　brought　the

crumpled　paper　to　my　nose　and　deeply　inhaled　its　scent。

After an afternoon meal； as I did not want to use my Enishte’s chamber

pot；　I　excused　myself　and　went　to　the　outhouse　in　the　yard。　It　was　bitter　cold。　I

had　quickly　seen　to　my　concern　without　freezing　my　buttocks　too　much　when

I　saw　that　Shevket　had　slyly　and　silently　appeared　before　me；　blocking　my　way

like a brigand。 In his hands he held his grandfather’s full and steaming

chamber pot。 He entered the outhouse after me and emptied the pot。 He

exited and fixed his pr