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pit into which he’d been cast by his jealous brothers。 I quite enjoy painting

this scene from the romance of Joseph and Zuleyha; for it reminds us that envy

is the prime emotion in life。

There was a sudden lull。 I sensed their eyes upon me。 Should I cry? I caught

Black’s eye。 That vile scoundrel; he’s peering at us; like someone who’s been

sent here by Enishte Effendi to uncover the truth。

“Who could’ve perpetrated such a horrendous crime?” cried the oldest

brother。 “What kind of heartless beast could’ve slaughtered our brother; our

brother who wouldn’t dare harm an ant?”

He answered this question with his own tears; and I joined him; feigning

grief while I sought my own answer: Who were Elegant’s enemies? If it hadn’t

been me; who else could’ve murdered him? I recalled that some time ago—I

believe it was when the Book of Skills was being prepared—he would get

involved in arguments with certain artists inclined to dismiss the techniques

of the old masters and ruin the pages we illustrators had labored extensively

over; thus they would spoil the borders with the horrid colors used to

embellish more cheaply and quickly。 Who were they? Later; however; rumors

began to spread that the enmity had arisen not for this reason; but out of

petition for the affections of a handsome binder’

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