he’d　lived　for　years　through　thoughts　of　me；　neither　in　his　innocent　childlike

expression。

Prodding　his　shoulder　with　the　edge　of　my　bare　foot；　I　woke　him。　When　he

saw me； he was startled more than enchanted and excited； if only for a

moment；　just　as　I’d　hoped。　Before　he’d　pletely　e　to　his　senses；　I　said：

“I dreamed I saw my father。 He confided something horrible to me： You

were　the　one　who　killed　him…”

“Weren’t　we　together　when　your　father　was　murdered？”

“I’m　aware　of　this；”　I　said。　“But　you　knew　that　my　father　would　be　at　home

all　alone。”

“I　did　not。　You　were　the　one　who　sent　the　children　out　with　Hayriye。　Only

Hayriye；　and　perhaps　Esther；　knew　about　it。　And　as　for　whoever　else　might’ve

known；　you’d　have　a　better　idea　than　I。”

“There　are　times　I　feel　an　inner　voice　is　about　to　tell　me　why　everything　has

gone so badly； the secret of all of our misfortune。 I open my mouth so that

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voice　might　speak；　but　as　in　a　dream；　I　make　no　sound。　You’re　no　longer　the

good　and　naive　Black　of　my　childhood。”

“That　naive　Black　was　driven　away　by　you　and　your　father。”

“If　you’ve　married　me　to　take　revenge　on　my　father；　you’ve　acplished

your　goal。　Maybe　this　is　why　the　children　don’t　like　you。”

“I know；” he said without sorrow。 “Before going to bed you were

downstairs　for　a　while。　They