ar　of　jinns；　and　as　they　tossed　and　turned　they　kept

asking；　“I　heard　a　noise；　did　you　hear　it？”　To　lull　them　to　sleep；　I　promised　to

tell　them　a　love　story。　You　know　how　words　take　wing　in　the　darkness。

“Mother；　you’re　not　going　to　get　married　are　you？”　said　Shevket。

“Listen　to　me；”　I　said。　“There　was　a　prince　who；　from　afar；　fell　in　love　with　a

strikingly beautiful maiden。 How did this happen？ I’ll tell you how。 Before

laying　eyes　on　the　pretty　maiden；　he’d　seen　her　portrait；　that’s　how。”

As　I　would　often　do　when　I　was　upset　and　troubled；　I　recounted　the　tale　not

from　memory；　but　improvising　according　to　how　I　felt　at　that　time。　And　since　I

colored　it　using　a　palette　of　my　own　memories　and　worries；　what　I　recounted

became　a　kind　of　melancholy　illustration　to　acpany　all　that　had　happened

to　me。

After both children fell asleep； I left the warm bed and； together with

Hayriye；　cleaned　up　what　that　vile　demon　had　scattered　about。　We　picked　up

ruined　chests；　books；　cloth；　ceramic　cups；　earthenware　pots；　plates　and　inkpots

201

that had been thrown about and shattered； we cleared away a demolished

folding　worktable；　paint　boxes　and　papers　that　had　been　torn　up　with　furious

hatred；　and　while　doing　so　one　of　us；　periodically；　would　stop　and　break　down

crying。 It was as though we were more distraught over the