blind old man’s drinking cup with water from the fountain？” When no one
went to his aid； he’d say； “It’d be a good turn； my children； a pious deed！” The
color of his irises had faded and they were nearly the same color as the whites
of his eyes。
Agitated by the thought of resembling that blind old man； I confessed how
I did away with Enishte Effendi hurriedly； without savoring any of it。 I was
neither too honest nor too insincere with them： I found a medium
consistency； such that the story wouldn’t trouble my heart too much； and
they’d be assured I hadn’t gone to Enishte’s house to murder him。 I wanted
to make clear that it wasn’t a premeditated murder； which intent they
gathered when I reminded them of the following while trying to absolve
myself： “Without harboring bad intentions； one never goes to Hell。”
“After surrendering Elegant Effendi to the Angels of Allah；” I said
thoughtfully； “what the dearly departed expressed to me in his last moments
started to gnaw at me like a worm。 Having caused me to bloody my hands； the
final painting loomed larger in my mind； and so； resolving to see it； I went to
your Enishte； who no longer summoned any of us to his house。 Not only did
he refuse to reveal the painting； he behaved as if nothing were the matter。
There was； he sniffled； neither a painting nor anything else so mysterious that
it called for murder！ To preempt further humiliation； and to get his attention； I
thereupon confessed that I was the one who killed Elegant Effendi and tossed
him into a well。 Yes； then he too