ed　only　a　wink　in　time。

Panicking；　I　grabbed　a　stone　that　lay　beside　the　well。　While　he　was　still　on

the　seventh　or　eighth　step；　I　caught　up　to　him　and　struck　him　on　the　back　of

his　head　with　all　my　strength。　I　struck　him　so　swiftly　and　brutally　that　I　was

momentarily　startled；　as　if　the　blow　had　landed　on　my　own　head。　Aye；　I　felt

his　pain。

Instead　of　anguishing　over　what　I’d　done；　I　wanted　to　finish　the　job　quickly。

He’d　begun　thrashing　about　on　the　ground　and　my　panic　deepened　further。

Long after I’d dropped him into the well； I contemplated how the

crudeness　of　my　deed　did　not　in　the　least　befit　the　grace　of　a　miniaturist。

24

I　AM　YOUR　BELOVED　UNCLE

I am Black’s maternal uncle； his enishte； but others also call me “Enishte。”

There was a time when Black’s mother encouraged him to address me as

“Enishte Effendi；” and later； not only Black； but everyone began referring to

me　that　way。　Thirty　years　ago；　after　we’d　moved　to　the　dark　and　humid　street

shaded　by　chestnut　and　linden　trees　beyond　the　Aksaray　district；　Black　began

to　make　frequent　visits　to　our　house。　That　was　our　residence　before　this　one。　If

I were away on summer campaign with Mahmut Pasha； I’d return in the

autumn　to　discover　that　Black　and　his　mother　had　taken　refuge　in　our　home。

Black’s mother； may she rest in p