JOSEPHINE: Are you saying that 1,500 liras isn’t enough to separate you from Janan?
RKIM: Indeed, it wouldn’t be enough to separate me from her. However, if it’s enough for Janan, then I won’t oppose it.
JOSEPHINE: Bravo, Râkım! Bravo young man! My God, I hadn’t dared hope that you’d say this!
Josephine hugged Râkım and kissed him on his eyes, forehead, and cheeks.
JOSEPHINE: I assure you that this money won’t be enough to make Janan want to leave you. She’s so noticeably fond of you. This level of affection is rare indeed. I’ve sounded her out before and clearly her little heart is filled with affection for you.
RKIM: Didn’t you expect this from me?
JOSEPHINE: In all honesty, I did not.
RKIM: Frankly, I didn’t expect this from you, either.
JOSEPHINE: What do you mean?
RKIM: Because I thought you were competing against Janan.
JOSEPHINE (jokingly): Come off it, you silly man!
RKIM: Why? You mean you don’t love me?
JOSEPHINE: Let me repeat again: Silly man!
RKIM: Why? For God’s sake, now you’re making me sad. When I thought you loved me . . .
JOSEPHINE: You crazy man, who doesn’t love you? I should content myself with the thought that I gained your affection. But am I worthy of becoming your life companion? I’m nearly forty years old while you are a young man of only twenty-five. If I had lived in this country and married when I was fifteen, I’d now have a son your age.
RKIM: No, you’re worthier even than becoming my . . .
JOSEPHINE: Shush! I won’t listen to such unseemly talk. If you’re going to be anything, then be my friend. Be my companion. Janan is the only woman in this world worthy of you. Poor little girl! How cute . . . and that doleful face, that melancholy attitude! Râkım! Râkım! Did you really think that I was one of those theater whores? I have a soul, a soul filled with emotions. I love Janan more than you do. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t hold back from speaking the truth. I won’t consider you a man if you leave this girl dejected.
RKIM (surprised): My God, this is strange indeed! I’ve never met a woman like you.
JOSEPHINE: Well you have now. The next time I go to that gentleman’s house, I’ll tell him that his offer has been . . . rejected. Right?
RKIM: For my part, yes.
JOSEPHINE: That’s also true for Janan . . . Her happiness is my own.
Unable to fathom Josephine’s attitude, Râkım left Posta Street bewildered. He arrived in Asmalımescit. Although he wasn’t able to comprehend Josephine’s behavior, he recognized a great compassion, righteousness, and love for both Janan and himself in her. Râkım arrived at the Ziklas household in Asmalımescit. After he knocked on the door and entered, Râkım found the two sisters waiting for him. Surprised at the absence of their parents, he felt obliged to ask:
RKIM: I don’t see your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Ziklas.
MARGARET: They’re not here tonight.
RKIM: Odd! You’re alone then. Why didn’t they take you with them?
MARGARET and JAN: Because they knew you were coming.
RKIM: Now, this makes me sad. I could’ve come and tutored you tomorrow. Why did you deny yourselves this pleasure?
JAN: We can also enjoy ourselves in your company.
RKIM: Sure, but it’d be better if you were with your mother.
MARGARET: They aren’t far; they are over at Monsieur ——’s soirée. We could go there after dinner if you wanted. However, we’d rather stay here.
RKIM: As you wish.
JAN (suggestively): If you don’t like us, then . . .
RKIM: You must be kidding me! I love you like sisters.
MARGARET: And we love you as a brother.
RKIM: Thank you, ladies. I would never tire of your company even after a lifetime. Don’t you know that by now?
JAN: We feel the same way about you.
They sat down and ate dinner. After leaving the dinner table, they occupied themselves with their lessons for an hour. That night their lesson was dedicated exclusively to the translation of some songs and love poems. Râkım was always surprised how much the girls enjoyed Ottoman poetry. The poetic and amorous manner with which the girls recited these poems visibly moved their listeners. They discussed the poems together:
JAN: English poetry never makes one thirsty for love. I used to like French poetry more but now that I’ve learned Turkish, I’ve given up on French poetry as well.
MARGARET: Me too. What is a poem good for if it doesn’t ignite a fire in you?
RKIM: What are you saying? I’ve never heard you talk this way before.
MARGARET: What way do you mean?
RKIM: About poems igniting a fire and all. Who is the source of these feelings?
JAN: I don’t know what you mean, Râkım Efendi! Are we made of wood?
RKIM: That’s all good. But there is a time for everything my dear. As your teacher, I suppose I reserve the right to warn you that it’s not the right time to cultivate such thoughts yet.
JAN: Indeed, we concede you the right to warn us.
MARGARET: We even welcome it, and we assure you that we’ll never take advantage of your concern.
RKIM (with a little smile after thinking for a while): Take advantage?
JAN: Why did you laugh for God’s sake?
RKIM: No reason.
JAN: Oh, come on! You laughed for a reason. Don’t keep it from us. Don’t you consider us your sisters?
RKIM: I do, I do, but . . .
MARGARET: But what?
RKIM: Since you are so enthusiastic about poetry . . . I could show you some Persian poems and even translate some of the better Ottoman ones; however, I fear that you might take advantage of this much independence.
After the girls secured Râkım’s consent, they showed signs of happiness to the point of embracing him, and said:
JAN: Don’t you trust our good morals?
RKIM: Absolutely!
MARGARET: Do we have to prove ourselves to you again?
RKIM: No! I am confident of your good morals. But girls who are so passionate about poetry can’t easily tolerate the overflow of poetic emotions.
JAN: We assure you that we won’t reveal our emotions to anyone.
RKIM: All right then, listen.
Râkim started reading the following poem by Hafez:
You whose visage brightens the light of my eyes
No eye in this world has seen any eye more pleasant than your languid eye
The world has never shown forth, and God not created
One precious as you, charming head to toe
Aiming to spill the lovers’ blood, her eyebrow and laughing eyes
At times wait in ambush, at times pull taut the bow
Constant smoke from the burning in my heart swirls around my head
How long will I, like sandalwood smolder in the fire
If you place your lips on my lips, I’ll receive eternal life
At the moment I give up the sweet ghost through my lips
Those who know this poem will recognize that Râkım omitted a few of its couplets. We don’t know why he did this. It’s possible that he couldn’t remember those couplets off the top of his head, or maybe he thought that it wasn’t the right time or place for their utterance. As he read, he employed a fine Shiraz accent, turning the Persian language around in his mouth as if he were savoring candy. Although the girls weren’t able to comprehend the meaning yet, they admired the sweetness of the pronunciation when Râkım translated the poem and conveyed its meaning. The girls, whose amorous feelings had already been awakened, were intoxicated.
To acquaint our readers with the particular interpretation of the poem that Râkım offered the girls, we replicate it as follows:
“Don’t you see that my eyes are glittering with happiness and profuse relief? / But don’t attribute its reason to something else. The brightness of my eye’s light is only a r
adiance caused by the reflection of the light of your bright face / Have you ever picked up the mirror to stare at your own beauty and paid particular attention to the beauty of your eyes? The eyes of the whole universe have not seen such ecstatic eyes / If your own eyes lack the ability to see your own beauty, then let me tell you. No one in the whole world has been able to attest to the beauty head-to-toe of a coquette like you. In fact, God has not created such a body yet / Are you not going to ask about the influence staring at you has on us? We are shaking like a leaf before your eyes and eyebrows / While your ecstatic eyes lay in ambush, your brutal eyebrows have drawn their bows to make an attempt on the lover’s life. Yet, you take delight in our tearful entreaties and our mournful sighs / We are always suffused with the smoke emanating from our burning bosoms; let us keep on burning just like an aloe tree to obtain the natural scent of this fragrant smoke / I have fallen sick with the disease of your love. I have become bed-ridden. See, there is no hope left for the continuation of my life / At this moment when my sweet life has come all the way up to my lips, if you put your lips on mine, there, I will find eternal life. Otherwise, I will be wracked by pain and perish.”
Just as the girls finished noting down Râkım’s French translation of the poem, their parents returned. Mr. Ziklas, pleased at finding them seated at the writing desk, said:
MR. ZIKLAS: See, my son, this is exactly what I’d expect from appreciative and well-mannered men. It appears that you spent three or four hours this evening studying.
JAN: Yes, dear father.
MRS. ZIKLAS: Truthfully, a man like Râkım is hard to find.
RKIM: You honor me with your compliments, Madame!
MR. ZIKLAS: Shall we drink a glass of punch?
RKIM: I wish you’d excuse me since Salıpazarı is rather far away, as you know, Sir!
MR. ZIKLAS: Yes, you live in Salıpazarı. You are right; it is quite far away, dear Râkım Efendi! You’ve never invited us to your house. We’ve never seen an alaturka house.
GIRLS: Oh my God, dear father. We want to see his house, too. I wonder how many books he has!
MRS. ZIKLAS: Books are these girls’ passion!
MR. ZIKLAS: That’s right, my dear! They got these thoughts from Râkım Efendi. Seriously Râkım Efendi, bring us to your house one day.
RKIM: Certainly, Sir! I’d be delighted! Whenever you want. However, it would be nice if you could wait until the arrival of spring. This way, you could see my little garden in its prettiest season.
GIRLS: What do you know, he has a garden too!
MRS. ZIKLAS: Okay, then. You decide when the time is right.
MR. ZIKLAS: I’m sure Râkım Efendi will choose a suitable time. We can take a boat trip while we’re there as well.
EVERYBODY: Perfect!
After these words were exchanged, Râkım said goodbye to everyone and took his leave. He decided to walk back home to take advantage of the beauty of the full moon, and began to make his way down Kumbaracı Yokuşu Street.
Chapter 6
DID ANY OTHER INCIDENTS take place before the arrival of spring besides the ones recounted above in the fifth chapter?
Undoubtedly! In fact, more things happened to Râkım on that strange night. His mind was so preoccupied, thinking both about Josephine’s peculiar behavior and the amorousness he spotted in the girls, that coming from Tophane he went straight past his house, through Fındıklı, and barely managed to collect himself by the time he neared Kabataş.
How strange! What was the reason for his pensiveness?
We already told you! It was a combination of Janan’s situation, Josephine’s behavior, and the English girls’ attitude. Actually, Râkım knew Josephine to be a very benevolent, well-mannered, and polite lady. However, due to the amorous exchange that had taken place between them, he calculated that Josephine wouldn’t feel the way she claimed to feel about Janan. In fact, although for some time he had been thinking, “She’s right after all. Our exchange is only a way of satisfying each other’s needs,” he couldn’t really judge her conduct and said to himself, “No, this woman used to love me, and I used to love her. Not used to, she still loves me, and I love her. Josephine is a woman of forty but she’s not one of those beauties that can be discarded like that. Everyone could love her because of her sweet stature, beautiful manners, and polite attitude. All very well, but . . . No. Surely . . .”
As for the English girls . . . their languid blue eyes were looking increasingly different, and especially tonight while he recited the poem from Hafez, he noticed their dreamy eyes and swollen chests. “There is no doubt that some amorous feelings have arisen in these girls. Obviously they have started feeling the need to love and be loved, but I wonder whom they were sighing for . . . Oh, I really want to be their confidant. I wish I knew whom they were sighing for. If I only saw them somewhere, with the men they love . . . How delightful, how pleasant it is to see lover and beloved together,” Râkım thought as he forced his mind to ponder the veiled aspects of the matter. Most particularly when the thought of Janan crossed his mind . . .
After pulling himself together near Kabataş, he returned home and knocked on the door. Janan was a bit late opening the door and it was clear that the poor girl had already fallen asleep. She was slow to respond but she opened the door before Râkım had to knock a second time. We can’t describe how beautiful and appealing she looked with her sleepy and languid eyes dazzled by the light of the candlestick in her hand. Râkım nearly lost himself and desired to bury his head against this girl’s chest, now fully visible in her nightdress, and smell her scent. But he hurriedly shook that off and regained his self-possession.
They went upstairs. Râkım changed into his nightclothes and lay down on the living room couch. Janan busied herself with folding his clothes. In the meantime, Râkım began speaking in a trembling voice:
RKIM: Dear Janan! I suppose you won’t be much use around here anymore.
JANAN (nearly jumping out of her skin with apprehension): Excuse me, Sir?
RKIM: Well, there is a buyer interested in you, my dear.
Oh poor girl! Is there any way of describing how it feels to love a beauty like this? You can’t love them without your heart breaking. The compassion and affection of such girls bring tears to a man’s eyes. When she heard her master speak, poor Janan couldn’t even let go of the clothes in her hands and started stuttering in surprise:
JANAN: T . . . t . . . th . . . there . . . is a b . . . buyer interested in me?
RKIM: Yes, and a very wealthy one, indeed! He’s offering 1,500 gold coins for you!
Râkım blinked rapidly to try to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.
JANAN (with growing apprehension): That’s a lot of money, isn’t it, Sir?
RKIM: Of course it’s a lot of money.
JANAN (alarmed): Are you going to sell me, Sir?
RKIM: What do you say about it?
JANAN (turning red in the face): I am your property, Sir. You know best.
RKIM (trying to swallow the bitter emotions swelling inside of him): I would like to know what you think.
JANAN (with watery eyes, red nose, and trembling lips): What can I say, Sir? You need money. If you got 1,500 gold coins, you could buy fifteen Janans like me.
As Janan uttered these words, Râkım attempted to contain his growing emotions but failed, and they spilled from his eyes. Upon seeing this, Janan couldn’t prevent the heavy flood of tears from cascading from the wellspring of her eyes. Poor Janan’s pain was clearly visible from her expression. It was also painful for Râkım but this pain was infused with great pleasure. Not everyone can appreciate this pleasure. Only sympathetic people can. You can only appreciate it if you haven’t spent your life like a piece of insensitive wood, and if you’ve tasted the pleasure that comes along with sweet tears. Râkım pursued the conversation:
RKIM: No, you misunderstood me, Janan.
JANAN (with a glimmer of happiness in her face): Are you not going to sell me then
, Sir?
RKIM: No, I will sell you.
JANAN: (with a pain more intense than the one she felt before): You know best, Sir.
RKIM: But do you know how I’ll sell you? I will give you all of your clothes, jewelry, and the 1,500 gold coins that they are paying for you. You’ll be a rich lady with these. How does that sound, do you agree?
As soon as she heard this, Janan dropped the clothes she was carrying and threw herself into her master’s arms in astonishment, “I want neither the 1,500 gold coins nor the clothes, nor the jewelry! I want you, Sir, you. I shall be your slave, your servant. That would be enough to make me happy.” She started kissing Râkım’s feet.
RKIM (barely maintaining a hold over himself): All right, but my dear Janan, you can’t remain like this forever. You are young, beautiful, intelligent, skillful, and wherever you go, you could easily become a concubine. Now that you have the means to become rich, what good am I to you?
JANAN (crying her eyes out): I don’t want to, Sir, I don’t want to. I don’t need to become a concubine or rich. Let me be a servant at your house, a piece of ash in your oven . . . Let me be your slave.
RKIM: No, you shall be my sister. However . . .
JANAN: I am incapable of showing my gratitude for the blissful life I have at your house.
RKIM: But you didn’t pay attention to what I said. Let me repeat, I am asking you to be my sister.
JANAN: I did pay attention, Sir. I also understood what you meant. I don’t want to lie; I won’t be your sister.
RKIM: You won’t be my sister?
JANAN: I won’t, Sir.
RKIM: Why is that?
JANAN (with a color that was not quite red, nor purple, nor black—in short, that resembled nothing else): I won’t, Sir. I won’t be your sister. Being your sister wouldn’t give me the pleasure I get from being your slave. I am happy with my current condition, I assure you. If you show some compassion and don’t sell me to make some money, I’ll kiss your feet with gratitude, Sir. Leave me in my current condition. Whenever you call my name “Janan,” I feel on top of the world. If you were to start calling me “my sister,” I wouldn’t experience the same pleasure in my soul. Please don’t make me say more, Sir. I’ve told you everything already! If you want to sell me, I couldn’t find it in my heart to keep you from a profit of 1,400 gold coins.
Felâtun Bey and Râkim Efendi Page 8