mebody like

myself。　It　was　an　infidel；　of　course；　not　one　of　us。　As　I　stared　at　him；　though；　I

felt　as　if　I　resembled　him。　Yet　he　didn’t　resemble　me　at　all。　He　had　a　full　round

face that seemed to lack cheekbones； and moreover； he had no trace of my

marvelous　chin。　Though　he　didn’t　look　anything　like　me；　as　I　gazed　upon　the

picture；　for　some　reason；　my　heart　fluttered　as　if　it　were　my　own　portrait。

“I　learned　from　the　Veian　gentleman　who　was　giving　me　a　tour　through

his　palazzo　that　the　portrait　was　of　a　friend；　a　nobleman　like　himself。　He　had

included　whatever　was　significant　in　his　life　in　his　portrait：　In　the　background

landscape visible from the open window there was a farm； a village and a

blending of color which made a realistic…looking forest。 Resting on the table

before　the　nobleman　were　a　clock；　books；　Time；　Evil；　Life；　a　calligraphy　pen；　a

map； a pass； boxes containing gold coins； bric…a…brac； odds and ends；

inscrutable yet distinguishable things that were probably included in many

pictures； shadows of jinns and the Devil and