all his feelings.
In a few minutes, a relative calm took possession of him. The cruel
words he had thrown at her echoed in his ears. He acknowledged
that they were harsh and uncalled for. He felt almost regretful, not
because he had suddenly discovered some dregs of affection for her
in the corners of his heart, but because of his desire to treat her
politely, perhaps out of respect for her father or fear of his. He had
not exceeded these bounds, even during the nerveracking period of
adjustment when with decisive firmness he had undertaken to make
her accept his policies. He had apologized when he got too angry.
Anger was nothing out of the ordinary for this family. The only
time they attempted to control their tempers was when the father was
present, monopolizing for himself all fights to anger. Their anger was
like a bolt of lightning, quick to flare up and quick to die down. They
would be left with various forms of regret and sorrow. Yasin was
like this, but he was also obstinate. His regret did not motivate him
to seek a reconciliation with his wife. He told himself, "She's the one
who made me angry Couldn't she have spoken to me in a gentler
tone?" He wanted her to be consistently patient, forbearing, and for
giving,
so that he could shoot off in pursuit of his passions, confident
about the home front.
After she got angry and withdrew, he felt even more tmcomforta
ble
with his imprisonment. He left the room to go to the roof. He
found the air pleasant there. The night was tranquil. It was dark
everywhere but more profoundly so under the arbor of hyacinth
beans and jasmine. On the other side of the roof, the dome of the
sky was visible, studded with stars like pearls. He began to pace back
and forth on the roof between the wall adjoining Maryam's house
and the end of the hyacinth bean garden with its view of the Qala'un
mosque. He gave himself over to contemplation of various mental
images.
As he was walking slowly by the entrance to the arbor a rustling
3go
Naouib Makfou
sound or perhaps a whisper caught his ear. He could hear someone breathing. Surprised, he stared into the darkness and called
"Who's there?"
A voice he easily recognized replied in ringing tones, "Nut, master."
He remembered immediately that Nur, his wife's maid, retired at
night to a wooden hut containing a few sticks of furniture, next to
the chicken coop. He looked across the roof until he made out her
figure standing a few feet away, like a condensed and solidified piece
of night. He saw the whites of her eyes, as pure white as circles
drawn in chalk on a iet-black form. He kept on pacing and said nothing
more, but her features were automatically traced on his imagination.
She was black, in her forties, and solidly built. She had thick
limbs and a full chest. Her rear was plump. She had a gleaming face,
sparkling eyes, and full lips. There was something powerful, coarse,
and unusual about her, or he had thought of her that way since she
had appeared in his house.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, an inclination to assault her exploded
within his breast like fireworks going off without any warning. This
was a forceful, dominating lust. The whole point of his life seemed
to be concentrated in it. It got control of him just as it had the night
of Aisha's wedding, when he had seen Umm Hanafi in the courtyard
as he was reaching the threshold. His languid being was permeated
by a bubbling new life. Restless desire spread through his veins, el
-trifying him. His ennui and boredom were replaced by an insane,
raging, hot interest. All of this happened in the twinkling of an eye.
His gait, thought, and imagination all became energetic. Unconsciously
he stopped pacing the entire width of the roof. He cut back
on the distance by a third and then half. Whenever he passed her,
his body was troubled by tempestuous desire.... A black maid?...
A servant? So what? It would not be the first time for him. Women
like Zanuba definitely were not the only ones he craved. Just one
beautiful feature was enough for him, like the kohl-enhaneed eyes of
the down fruit vendor in al-Watawit, which had compensated for the
stench of her armpits and the mud caked on her legs. Even ugliness,
so long as there was a woman attached to it, was excused by his
blind lust, as it had been with Umm Hanafi or with the one-eyed
geomancer with whom he had enjoyed some private moments behind
al-Nasr Gate.
Nur at any rate had a solid, firm body. Touching it would no doubt
inspire him to be virile and active. The very fact that she was a black
PALACE WALK
maid would lend interest to the tryst and novelty to the experience.
Fie would be able to verify the rumor about girls of her heritage, who
were said to be hot and passionate.
The circumstances seemed propitious. It was dark and secure on
the roof. His desire intensified. His nervous energy was bounding.
Fiis heart raced. He cast a piercing glance in her direction and
changed course slightly so that he would just happen to rub against
her one way or another when he passed her. He would postpone
making an open declaration of his intentions until he had a chance to
sound out the situation cautiously, for fear that she might be a fool
like Umm Hanafi and cause the house to echo with a new scandal.
Staring at her, he advanced with deliberate steps. He wanted to
• have all the lust raging inside him conveyed to her by the message
in his eyes, in spite of the encompassing darkness. When he got close
to her, his heartbeats became irregular. He came up beside her and
his elbow touched the upper part of her body. He kept on walking,
as though it had been an accident. A tremor passed through his body
when he collided with her. He was not sure what he had touched,
for he was wandering in a trance world. All he could remember as
his mind cleared a bit at the edge of the roof was that he had felt
something tender and appealing and she had stepped back nonchalantly.
His suspicion that she was not worried about him was corroborated
by her reaction.
He turned around, determined to attack again. He went back toward
her with his arm folded so his elbow would touch one of her
breasts. His senses did not mislead him this time. He did not move
his elbow away, as one would have expected from a person who had
simply lost his way. He left it there to brush gently past the other
breast, no longer trying to avoid awakening her suspicions. He
walked on, telling himself, "She'll no doubt understand what I'm after.
Perhaps she has understood and wanted to step aside but was
slow to do it. Perhaps she was taken by surprise and startled. At any
rate, she didn't push me away with her hand and she remained still.
She won't start screaming suddenly like that other bitch. Let's try a
third time."
On this occasion his pace was quick and impatient. He slowed
down when he reached her. Then he stretched his elbow out to her
breasts that swelled like a full pair of little waterskins. He moved his
arm in a hesitant, doubtful manner. He started to walk on, driven by
a desire to flee, but found her so yielding or dull that the remnants
of his conscious mind were drowned in an insane flood. He stopped.
3 gz
Naguib Mahfou
With a voice that emerged from a fog of lust, trembling and fading
away, he asked, "Is that you, Nut?"
The maid, who was backing away from him, replied, "Yes, master."
To
prevent her from escaping, he pursued her until her back was
against the wall and he was almost touching her. He wanted to say
anything he could think of to declare his inner turmoil, like a boxer
waving his fist in the air while watching for an opportunity to deal a
final blow. Breathing on her forehead, he asked, "Why didn't you go
into your room?"
Blockaded by him, she stammered, "I was enjoying the fresh air a
little."
His greedy appetite overcame his hesitation. He put his hand on
her waist. Then he pulled her gently toward his breast: She put up
some resistance and kept him from achieving his goal. Putting his
cheek next to hers, he whispered in her ear, "Come to the room."
She muttered uneasily, "Shame on you, master."
Her voice rang out in the silence in a way that disturbed him. She
had not raised her voice intentionally, but it did not appear easy for
her to whisper or her whisper had a resonance to it, even if less
pronounced than that of her normal voice. His panic quickly deserted
him, both because his lust was fully ignited and because her tone
lacked the protest that her words suggested. He took her by the hand
as he murmured, "Come along, sweetheart."
She did not attempt to free her hand, either because she was
pleased or because she was obedient. He was lavishing kisses on her
cheek and neck, swaying from the intense emotional impact, in a
delirium of happiness. He began to say, "What's kept you from me
all these months?"
She answered him in her normal tone of voice, lacking any ring of
protest, "Shame on you, master."
Smiling, he commented, "Your objections are very attractive. Make
some more."
She did resist a little when they reached the entrance to the room
and said, "Shame on you, master.... " Then, as though to caution
him, she added, "The room's full of bedbugs."
He pushed her inside, whispering with his mouth at the nape of
her neck, "I'd lie among scorpions for your sake, Nut."
She was a servant in every sense of the word. She stood submissively
in front of him in the dark while he placed his lips on hers and
kissed her in a fiery, passionate manner. She was still and submissive,
PALACE WALK
as though watching a scene in which she had no part. He told her
emotionally, "Kiss me!" He put his lips to hers again and kissed her.
Then she kissed him.
He wanted her to sit down. She repeated her phrase, "Shame on
you, master," which was becoming comic through monotonous repetition.
lie sat her down himself and she complied without any resistance.
He began to enjoy the iuxtaposition of her protests and her obedience.
He sought to elicit more. Her verbal resistance continued, combined
with her active obedience. He forgot the time.
He imagined that the darkness around him was moving or that
there were strange creatures prancing about in it. Perhaps the exertion
was beginning to tell on him after he had stayed at it such a
long time--if he had been there long. He certainly did not know how
much time he had spent with her. Perhaps the raging currents crashing
against each other in his head had impinged on his vision, causing
him to see imaginary lights. But not so fast.., the walls of the room
were undulating. A faint light flowed over them into which the pitch
black darkness dissolved so thoroughly that the room's secrets were
disclosed. He raised his head to stare. He saw a faint light slipping
through the cracks in the wooden wall, intruding on his privacy.
Then his wife's voice was raised to call the maid: "Are you asleep,
Nur? Nur.... Have you seen Mr. Yasin?"
His heart trembled in alarm. He leapt up and quickly and regretfully
grabbed his clothes to put them on. With roving eyes he
searched the room on the chance that he might find a hiding place
among its cast-off furnishings. One look was enough to make him
despair of concealing himself. Meanwhile the sound of approaching
slippers assaulted his ears. The maid could not keep herself from
saying in a tearful voice, "It's all your fault, master. What am I going
to do now?"
He hit her hard on the shoulder to make her stop. He stared at the
door with terror and despair. Without thinking about what he was
doing, he retreated to the corner farthest from the entrance and
pressed against the wall. He froze there and waited. The calls were
repeated, but no one answered. Then the door was pushed open.
Zaynab's arm appeared, holding a lamp in front of her. She was
crying, "Nur... Nut."
The maid was forced to murmur in a sad, weak voice, "Yes,
madam."
She chided her in an angry voice, "How quick you are to fall
Naguib Mahfou
asleep, old lady.... Have you seen Mr. Yasin? My father-in-law sent
for him. I looked for him downstairs and in the courtyard. Now I
haven't been able to find him on the roof. Have you seen him?"
As soon as she finished speaking, her head poked inside the room.
She looked down at the compromised maid in astonishment. Then,
instinctively, she turned to her right and her eyes fell upon her husband,
whose enormous body was plastered against the wall, looking
flabby and weak from shame and disgrace. Their eyes met for an
instant before he looked down. Another instant of lethal silence
passed. Then a scream like a howl escaped from the girl. She re
treated. Beating her breast with her left hand, she cried out, "You
scandalous black slut... You! You!"
She began to tremble and the lamp in her hand trembled along
with her. The light reflected on the wall opposite the door shook.
Then she turned and fled. Her wail rent the silence.
Swallowing, Yasin told himself, "I'm ruined. What's done is done."
He remained standing where he was, oblivious to everything around
him. When he came to his senses, he left the room for the roof,
without thinking about going any farther. He did not know what to
do. How widely known would the scandal become? Would it be confined
to his own apartment or travel to the other one? He began to
scold himself for being too stunned and weak to catch up with her in
order to contain the scandal in the smallest possible circle. He wondered
with intense discomfort how he would deal with this scandal.
Would he be resolute? Perhaps he could be if the news did not get
through to his father.
He heard movement coming from the direction of the ill-omened
room. He turned and saw the figure of the maid leaving it with a
large bundle in her hand. She hastened to the door of the stairway
and departed. He shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. When he
touched his chest he realized he had forgotten to put on his undershirt.,,
and quickly returned to the room.
Someone knocked on the door early in the morning. It was the
shaykh, or supervisor, of the district. He met with ai-Sayyid Ahmad
and told him that the authorities had instructed him to inform the
residents of the occupied areas that the English would not interfere
with anyone except the demonstrators. It was incumbent upon alSayyid
Ahmad to open his store, on the pupil to go to school, and
on the civil servant to go to his place of employment. The shaykh
cautioned him against keeping pupils home lest they be suspected of
striking. He directed his host's attention to the orders strictly forbidding
demonstrations and strikes.
In that manner the house resumed the activities with which it normally
greeted the morning. The men breathed a sigh of relief after
the captivity of the previous day. People felt refreshed, attaining a
certain degree of composure and tranquillity.
After the visit from the shaykh of the district, Yasin told himself
"Conditions outside the house have begun to improve, but inside it's
nothing but mire and muck."
Most members of the family had passed a hideous night dominated
by the scandal. The misfortune had torn the family apart. Zaynab's
patience, which had kept her sorrows and grievances confined to her
breast, could not stand up to the shocking vision in her maid's room.
Her reserve exploded and threw flames in every direction. She deliberately
intended for her wail to reach the ears of al-Sayyid Ahmad.
lie rushed to her, wondering what was the matter. The scandal
was revealed. She told him everything, emboldened by her insane
passion. Without it, her courage would not have been up to confronting
him with her story, since she still dreaded him more than anyone
else. In this manner, she got revenge for her wounded honor and for
the patience she had shown, voluntarily at times and resentfully on
many other occasions.
"A maid! A servant! Old enough to be his mother! In my house!
So what do you suppose he does elsewhere?"
to.She wa..s n.ot weeping from jealousy, or perhaps her iealousv was
'-mporanly hidden behind a thick veil of disgust and anger, lille fire
Nauib Mahfou
concealed by clouds of smoke. It seemed she would prefer death to
staying under the same roof with him, even for a single day, after
what had happened. In fact, she abandoned her bed to spend the night
in he parlor. She was awake most of it, delirious as though she had a high- fever The short time she slept, her slumber was deep but
troubled like an invalid's. When she awoke, she was determined to
leave the house. This decision was virtually the only thing that provided
any relief from her pains. What could even her father-in-law
do? He could not undo the reprehensible act after it had occurred. No
matter how tyrannical he was, he could not punish her husband as
much as he deserved and heal her wounded heart. The most he could
flo would be to reprimand and pour out his wrath upon his son. The
debauched sinner would listen with head bowed but then continue
with his nasty style of life. How preposterous!
AI-Sayyid Abroad had implored her to leave the matter to him. He
had advised her at length to overlook her husband's slip and rely 'on
the patience of virtuous women like herself. But she could not bear
to be patient or forgiving any longer. A black servant over forty! No!
This time she would leave him without any hesitation. She would
tell her father all her sorrows and remain in his custody until Yasin
came to his senses. If he then came to her repentant, having reformed
his behavior, she might return. Otherwise, this whole life, with its
good and bad aspects, could go to the devil.
Yasin was wrong to think she was too reasonable and sensible to
reveal her worries to other people. The truth was that from the beginning
she had been so apprehensive she had shared her concerns
with her mother, who had demonstrated how sensible she was by
making sure the complaint did not reach Zaynab's father. She had
counseled her daughter to be patient, telling her that men, like her
father for example, spent their evenings out and drank. Zaynab
should be satisfied if her household was well provided for and if her
husband returned to her, no matter how late or how drunk. The gid
had heeded her mother's advice grudgingly and had attempted to the
best of her abilities to adorn herself with patience. She had spared no
effort to content herself with the reality and trim her vast dreams
down, to be satisfied with what she actually had, especially since she
was pregnant and looking forward to the proud status of motherhood.
With her grievances buried deep inside her, she was content
to surrender, consoling herself at different times with her mother's
example and that of the mistress of her new home.
There was room enough for doubt. Her heart was troubled occa
PALACE WALK
sionally about what her husband might be doing at his drinking parties. She confided her fears to her mother. Indeed, she did not conceal from her the man's diminished interest. Her sensible mother explained
to her that this decrease in passion was definitely not caused
by what she had in mind. It was "something natural," common to all
men. She would become convinced of that herself as she became
more experienced in life. Even if her suspicions were correct, what
did she think she was going to do about it? Should she leave her
home just because her husband had sex with other women? Of course
not... a thousand times no! If a woman renounced her position for
a reason like this, households would soon run short of honest
women. A man might set his sights on one woman or another, but
he would always return home, so long as his wife was worthy of
being his last resort and enduring refuge. Patient women would be
the winners. She proceeded to remind her daughter of women who
had been divorced for no fault of their own and of women whose
husbands had more than one wife. Was her husband's fickleness, even
if a reality, not a lighter matter than the conduct of those other types
of men? Moreover, Yasin was a young man of only twenty-two. It
was inevitable that he would become more reasonable in time and
return to his home, occupying himself with his children to the exclusion
of the rest of the world. The moral of all this advice was that
she had to be patient, even if her suspicions were true. What if they
were not? What then? The mother had repeated this and other, similar
advice until the girl's defiance was tamed. She had come to believe
in patience and had resigned herself to it, but with one fatal
blow the incident on the roof had completely destroyed the entire
structure of patient resignation.
AI-Sayyid Ahmad did not comprehend this distressing fact. He
thought the girl had resolved to follow his advice. Even so, his anger
was too great to be easily assuaged. The maid had done the right
thing when she fled, but Yasin had not left the roof, where he was
anticipating with alarm the storm that awaited him. When he heard
his father's voice calling him, it sounded like whips cracking. His
heart pounded, but he did not answer or obey. Feeling desperate, he
stayed put. Before Yasin knew what was happening, the man stormed
up to the roof. He stood there snarling for some moments while he
searched the area. When he made out his son's shape, he headed
toward him, coming to a stop nearby. He folded his arms across his
chest and glared at Yasin severely and haughtily. He remained silent
for a long time to increase his son's torment and terror. He seemed
3SS
Naguib MoAfou
to want his silence to express his feelings, which words could not
convey. He may also have wished it to symbolize the violent kick
and punch he would have used to discipline his son had he not been
a man and a husband like himself.
When he could not stand to be silent any longer, shaking with
anger and rage, he rained down insults and rebukes on Yasin: "You
defy me within my hearing and sight.... You and your disgrace can
go to hell.... You've defiled my house, you scoundrel. There's no
way this house can ever be pure again so long as you're in it. You
had an excuse before you got married, alas. What excuse do you have
now?... If my words were addressed to an animal, it would behave
itself, but they're directed to a stone.... A household that includes
you is likely to be cursed." He relieved his flaming breast of words
like hot lead.
Yasin stood before him still, silent, with his head bowed, as though
he were about to melt away into the darkness. When the father had
screamed as much as he could, he turned his back on him and left
the place, cursing him and his father and mother. In his rage, he
thought that Yasin's slip was a crime deserving the ultimate punishment.
In his fury, he neglected to remember that his own past was a
long and repeated series of slips like Yasin's. He had persisted with
this conduct even halfway through his fifth decade, when his children
were growing up and some were married. His rage did not really make him forget, but he allowed himself liberties he did not permit
any of his family. He had a right to do what he wanted, but they
were expected to adhere to the limits he imposed on them.
His anger was possibly greater at the elements present in Yasin's
offense of challenge to his will, disdain for his existence, and distortion
of the image he wanted to have of his children than at the offense
itself. But as usual his anger did not last long. Its flames soon died
down and its blaze abated. He slowly became calm, although his
faqade, and just his faqade, remained despondent and distressed. He
was now able to see Yasin's "crime" from more than one angle. He
could contemplate it with a clear head. Its darker side faded to reveal
its various comic aspects, which entertained his enforced solitude.
The first thing that occurred to him was to look for an excuse for the
guilty party. It was not from any love of lenience, for he hated to be
lenient at home. He wanted to use this excuse as an explanation for
Yasin's apparent violation of his will. He seemed to be telling himself,
"My son did not disobey me Far from it! His excuse is such
and such."
PALACE WALK
.389
Should his youth be considered an excuse, since it was a time of
recklessness and rashness? Certainly not... Youth might be an excuse
for the offense, but it was no excuse for defying his will. Otherwise
Fahmy and even Kamal would be allowed any extremes in
ignoring his instructions. The excuse should be sought, then, in his
status as a man. It was his manhood that gave him a right to free
himself from his father's will, if only to a limited extent, and spared
al-Sayyid Ahmad from bearing responsibility for his son's deeds. The
father seemed to be telling himself, "He did not disobey me. Far from
it! He's just reached an age when it's not an offense to deviate from
my will." Needless to say, he would not admit this truth to Yasin
and would never have forgiven his son if Yasin had dared to make
this demand. Indeed he would not admit it to himself unless there
was a rebellious act requiring some justification. To reassure himself,
he did not forget even under such circumstances to remind himself
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