letter mockingly； in places raising his already high…pitched
voice even higher like a woman’s； and in places； emulating the trembling
supplication of a lover who’d lost all reason。 He made light of Black’s having
written his wish “to see you just once” in Persian。 He added； “As soon as Black
saw that Shekure had given him some hope； he quickly began to negotiate。
Such haggling isn’t something a genuine lover would resort to。”
“He’s genuinely in love with Shekure；” I said naively。
“This ment proves that you’ve taken Black’s side；” he said。 “If Shekure
has written that she dreamt my older brother was dead； it means she accepts
her husband’s death。”
“That was just a dream；” I said like an idiot。
“I know how smart and cunning Shevket is。 We lived together for many
years！ Without his mother’s permission and prodding； he’d never have taken
Black to the house of the Hanged Jew。 If Shekure thinks she’s through with my
older brother—with us—she’s terribly mistaken！ My older brother is still alive
and he’ll return from the war。”
Before he had a chance to conclude； he went into the next room where he
intended to light a candle； but succeeded only in burning his hand。 He let out
a howl。 All the while licking the burn； he finally lit the candle and placed it
beside a folding worktable。 He produced a reed pen from its case； dipped it
into an inkwell and began furiously writing on a small piece of paper。 I sensed
his pleasure at my watching him； and to show that I wasn’t afraid； I smiled
exaggeratedly。
“Who is this Hanged Jew； you must know？” he aske