dmyEnishteandforatimeworkedasachildapprentice.

    Followingahandsomeyoungapprentice,Iwalkedpastelderlymasterbindersdazedfromthesmellofglueandbookbinder’spaste,masterminiaturistswhosebackshadhuanearlyageandyouthswhomixedpaintswithoutevenlookingintothebowlsperchedontheirknees,sosorrowfullyweretheyabsorbedbytheflamesofthestove.Inaer,Isawanoldmaiculouslypaintinganostricheggonhislap,anotherelderenthusiasticallyembellishingadrawerandayoungapprenticegraciouslywatgthemboth.Throughanopendoor,Iwitnessedyoungstudentsbeingreprimaheyleanedforward,theirnosesalmosttougthepagesspreadbeforetheirreddenedfaces,astheytriedtouaakesthey’dmade.Inanotherroom,amournfulandmelancholyapprentice,havingfottearilyaboutcolors,papersandpainting,staredintothestreetI’djustnoweagerlywalkeddown.

    Weclimbedtheicystaircase.Wewalkedthroughtheportico,whichedaroundtheinnersedfloorofthebuilding.Below,intheinnercourtyardcoveredwithsnow,twoyoungstudents,obviouslytremblingfromthecolddespitetheirthickcapesofcoarsewool,werewaiting—perhapsforanimmibeating.Irecalledmyearlyyouthaingsgiventostudents

    whowerelazyorwhowastedexpensivepaints,andtheblowsofthebastinado,whidedonthesolesoftheirfeetuntiltheybled.

    Weenteredawarmroom.Isawtwonoviceswho’dretlyfiheirapprenticeships.Sihegreatmasters,whomMasterOsmanhadgivenworkshopnames,nowworkedathome,thisroom,whicearousedexcessivereverenddelightinme,nolongerseemedliketheworkshopofagreatahysultanbutmerelyalargishroominsomesecludedcaravansaryintheremotemountainsoftheEas