shouldered；　pink…lipped；　pretty　boy　who’d　e　from　the　palace；　and　was　able

to　infer　that　Head　Illuminator　Master　Osman　was　behind　this　contest。　Master

Osman； without a doubt； knows my talent and likes me the best of all the

masters。

So；　as　I　gazed　at　the　empty　page；　the　stance；　look　and　demeanor　of　a　horse

that　would　please　both　the　Sultan　and　Master　Osman　came　to　life　before　my

eyes。　The　horse　ought　to　be　lively；　but　serious；　like　the　horses　Master　Osman

made　ten　years　ago；　and　it　should　be　rearing；　in　the　way　that　always　pleased

Our　Sultan；　so　that　both　of　them　would　concur　on　the　horse’s　beauty。　How

many　gold　pieces　are　they　offering；　I　wonder？　How　would　Mir　Musavvir　make

this　picture？　How　would　Bihzad？

Suddenly；　the　beast　entered　my　thoughts　with　such　speed；　that　by　the　time

I　understood　what　it　was；　my　damnable　hand　grabbed　the　brush　and　began　to

draw　a　miraculous　horse　beyond　anyone’s　conception；　starting　from　the　raised

left　foreleg。　After　quickly　joining　the　leg　to　the　body；　I　made　two　arcs　swiftly；

pleasurably　and　confidently—had　you　seen　them；　you　would’ve　said　this　artist

is　no　illustrator；　but　a　calligrapher。　I　was　gazing　at　my　hand　with　awe；　while　it

moved　as　if　it　belonged　to　another。　These　spectacular　arcs　became　the　horse’s

ample　stomach；　solid　chest　and　swanlike　neck。　The　illustration　might’ve　been

considered p