ary　Book　of　Kings。

At　first；　Master　Osman　was　unable　to　determine　why　this　object　was　sent。　But

today；　he　was　able　to　see　the　ill　will　and　just　logic　behind　this　cruel　present。

After Master Osman understood that Our Sultan wanted to have His own

portrait　made　in　the　style　of　the　European　masters　and　that　you　all；　whom　he

loved　more　than　his　own　children；　had　betrayed　him；　he　stuck　this　needle　into

each of his eyes last night in the Treasury—in imitation of Bihzad。 Now； if I

were to blind you； the accursed man responsible for bringing to ruin the

workshop　Master　Osman　established　at　the　expense　of　his　entire　life；　what　of

it？”

“Whether　or　not　you　blind　me；　in　the　end；　we’ll　no　longer　be　able　to　find　a

place　for　ourselves　here；”　I　said。　“If　Master　Osman　truly　goes　blind；　or　passes

away； and we paint the way we feel like painting； embracing our faults and

individuality　under　the　influence　of　the　Franks　so　we　might　possess　a　style；　we

might　resemble　ourselves；　but　we　won’t　be　ourselves。　No；　even　if　we　were　to

agree　to　paint　like　the　old　masters；　reasoning　that　only　in　this　way　could　we　be

ourselves；　Our　Sultan；　who’s　turned　His　back　even　on　Master　Osman；　will　find

others　to　replace　us。　No　one　will　look　at　us　anymore；　we　shall　only　incur　pity。

The　raiding　of　the　coffeehouse　merely　rubs　salt　into　our　wounds；　because　half

the blame for this incident will fall to us miniaturists； who’ve slandered the

respected　preacher。”

Although I tried at length to persuade them that it would work quite

against　us　to　quarrel；　it　was　to　no　avail。　They　had　no　intention　o