me from surrendering myself to what I saw。
Naturally； I was disappointed to find myself observing more with my mind
than with my heart； despite the great luck of having Allah； in His munificence；
grant me the chance to have my fill of this legendary book before the velvet
curtain of darkness descended over my eyes—the divine grace bestowed upon
all great miniaturists。 By the time the light of dawn reached the Treasury；
which had gradually begun to resemble an icy tomb； I’d gazed upon each of
the 259 pictures in this superlative book。 Since I looked with my mind； allow
me once more to categorize； as if I were an Arab scholar interested only in
reasoning：
1。 Nowhere could I locate a horse with nostrils that resembled what the
wretched murderer had drawn： Not among the variously colored horses that
Rüstem encountered while pursuing horse thieves in Turan； not among
Feridun Shah’s extraordinary horses which swam the Tigris after the Arab
Sultan had denied him permission to do so； not among the gray horses
sorrowfully watching Tur’s treachery in beheading his younger brother Iraj； of
whom he was jealous because their father； while doling out his territory； gave
the best country； Persia； and far away China to Iraj； while leaving only the
western lands to Tur； not among the horses of the heroic armies of Alexander
that included Khazars； Egyptians； Berbers and Arabs； all equipped with armor；
iron shields； indestructible swords and glimmering helmets； not the fabled
horse that killed Shah Yazdgird—whose nose bled perpetually as a result of t