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