After the evening prayers I inteo go to the coffeehouse, but they told me there was a visitor at the dood tidings, I hoped. I went to discover a messenger from the palace. He described the Sultan』s test. Fihe world』s most beautiful horse. You tell me how much you』ll offer for each, and I』ll quickly draw you five or six of them.
Rather than say any such thing, I maintained my reserve, and simply ihe boy waiting at the door inside. I thought for a moment: The world』s most beautiful horse doesn』t eve that I might draw it. I draw war steeds, large Mongolian horses, noble Arabians, heroic, writhing chargers covered in blood, or even luckless packhorses pulling a cartfull of stoo a building site, but no one would call any of them the world』s most beautiful horse. Naturally, by 「the world』s most beautiful horse,」 I khat Our Sulta the most splendid of the horses that had beeed thousands of times in Persia, in keeping with all of the formulas, models and poses of yore. But why?
Of course, there were those who didn』t wao win the purse of gold. If they』d told me to draw your average horse, it』s on knowledge that nobody』s picture could pete with mine. Who was it that had duped Our Sultan? Our Se the endless gossip of all of those jealous artists, knows
full well that I am the most talented of His miniaturists. He admires my illustrations.
My hand abruptly and angrily sprang to a as if wanting to rise above all of these vexing siderations, and in one trated effort, I drew a true horse beginning from the tip of its hoof. You might see one like this oreet or in battle. Weary, but trolled…, in the same fit of anger, I dashed off a spahi cavalryman』s horse, and this one was eveer. None of the miniaturists of the book arts workshop could draw such beautiful animals. I was about to draw another from memory when the boy from the palace said, 「One is enough.」
He was about to grab the sheet and leave, but I restrained him because I knew full well, as I know my own hat these sdrels would be giving up a purse of gold s for these horses.
If I illustrate the way I want to, they won』t give me the gold! If I 』t win the gold, my name will be tarnished forever. I stopped to think. 「Just wait,」 I said to the boy. I went inside aurned with two incredibly shiny terfeit Veian gold pieces, which I proceeded to give to the boy: He was afraid, his eyes widened. 「You』re as brave as a lion,」 I said.
I removed one of the notebooks of forms that I kept hidden from the eyes of the world. This is where I secretly made copies of the most beautiful illustrations that I』d seehe years. Not to mention the copies that the chief of the dwarfs, Jafer, ireasury would make of the best trees, dragons, birds, hunters and warriors from the pages of volumes locked away; that is, if you gave him ten gold pieces, the rogue. My notebook is excellent, not for those who want to see the actual world in which they live through pictures and decoration, but for those who want to recall the fables of old.
Flipping through the pages while showing the images to the pageboy, I selected the best of the horses. I briskly poked holes over the lines of that picture with a needle. , I placed a sheet of paper uhe stencil. I gradually sprinkled a liberal amount of coal dust on top, then shook it so the dust would pass through the holes. I lifted the stencil. The coal dust, dot by dot, had transferred the beautiful horse』s entire shape to the sheet below. It l