s nose。 Otherwise； however merciless； it’ll be

necessary　to　torture　all　the　master　miniaturists。”

“Sovereign Refuge of the World Your Excellency My Sultan；” said Master

Osman。　“Perhaps　we　can　better　catch　the　man　responsible　for　this　slip　of　the

brush；　if　my　master　miniaturists　are　forced　to　draw　a　horse　on　a　blank　sheet　of

paper；　quickly；　without　any　story　in　mind。”

“Only；　of　course；　if　this　is　really　a　slip　of　the　brush　and　not　an　actual　nose；”

said　Our　Sultan　shrewdly。

296

“My　Sultan；”　said　Master　Osman；　“to　this　end；　if　a　petition　by　express

mand　of　Your　Highness　were　announced　tonight；　if　a　guard　were　to　visit

Your　miniaturists；　requesting　them　to　draw　a　horse　quickly　on　a　blank　sheet

for　this　contest…”

Our Sultan looked at the mander of the Imperial Guard with an

expression　that　said；　“Did　you　hear　that？”　Then　he　said；　“Do　you　know　which

of　the　Poet　Nizami’s　stories　of　rivalry　I　like　best　of　all？”

Some of us said； “We know。” Some said； “Which one？” Some； including

myself；　fell　silent。

“I’m not fond of the contest of poets or the story about the contest

between Chinese and Western painters and the mirror；” said the handsome

Sultan。　“I　like　best　the　contest　of　doctors　who　pete　to　the　death。”

After　He’d　said　this；　He　abruptly　took　leave　of　us　for　His　evening　prayers。