"Alas, my heart! Is it right to toss around ideas like that? Does this wretch imagine that the beloved will get pregnant and endure cravings, that her belly will become distended and round, that she'll suffer through labor and give birth? Remember Aisha and Khadija in the final months of their pregnancies? This is blasphemy. Why don't you join an underground assassination society like the Black Hand? Murder's better than blasphemy and more beneficial. Then you'd find yourself in the defendant's dock one day. Presiding over the court would be Salim Bey Sabry, father of your friend the diplomat and father-in-law of your beloved, just as he presided this week over the trial of those accused of killing the supreme commander, Sir Lee Stack. The traitor!"
Husayn Shaddad laughingly asked, "Should nations cut off diplomatic relations so the children of diplomats may be raised in their own countries?"
"No, cut off their heads! Abd al-Hamid Inayat, al-Kharrat, Mahmud Rashid, Ali Ibrahim, Raghib Hasan, Shafiq Mansur, and Mahmud Isma'il sentenced to die on the gallows along with Kamal Ahmad Abd al-Jawad… by the Egyptian judge Salim Bey Sabry and the English judge Mr. Kershaw. Assassination is the answer. Do you want to kill or be killed?"
[sma'il cautioned Husayn, "Your sister's departure will reinforce your father's determination to refuse your request to travel abroad."
Husayn Shaddad replied confidently, "My case is making steady progress toward a satisfactory solution."
Ai'da and Husayn in Europe at the same time … he was going to lose his true love and his best friend. "Your spirit will search for your beloved and not find her. Your intellect will search for your companion without finding him either. You'll live alone, exiled to the ancient district, like the echo of a yearning on the loose for generations. Ponder the pains lying in wait for you. It's time for you to harvest the fruit of the dreams planted in your gullible heart. Beseech God to make tears a cure for sorrows. If you can, string your body up with a hangman's ropes or put it at the front of a destructive force unleashed on the enemy. Tomorrow you'll find your spirit's empty - as empty as you once discovered al-Husayn's tomb to be. What a disappointment! Sincere patriots are hanged, while sons of traitors are made ambassadors."
As though to himself, Isma'il Latif remarked, "There'll be no one in Egypt except me and Kamal, and Kamal's not reliable, because his best friend before, after, or besides Husayn is the book."
Husayn said with confident conviction, "Travel won't end our friendship."
Despite his lethargy, Kamal'sheart pounded. He commented, "My heart tells me that you won't be able to endure a permanent separation from your homeland."
"That's most likely. But you'll profit from my trip by the books] send you. We'll continue our conversations with letters and books."
Husayn was talking as though his voyage had become an established fact. Visits with this friend had been a captivating happiness for Kamal. When he was with Husayn, even silence was enjoyable. But there was some consolation. The departure of his beloved would teach him to minimize other calamities, no matter how great. Thus the death of his adored grandmother had seemed insignificant to his soul when it was scorched by the fire of his grief for Fahmy. But he had to keep in mind at all times that this was the farewell session. He had to fill his eyes with the roses and the other flowers that were tipsy with blooms and heedless of sorrow. There was a problem he had to solve: How could a mortal ascend high enough to live with the beloved or the beloved fall so far that she could coexist with a human being? If he could not find an answer, he would struggle ahead with shackled feet and a lump in his throat. Love was a load with two widely separated handles. It was designed to be carried by two people. How could he bear it alone?
The conversation raced along and branched off in different directions while Kamal followed it with his eyes, nods of hishead, and words designed to demonstrate that the calamity had not polished him off yet. He had his hopes pinned on the fact that life's train keeps moving down the tracks, even though death's station certainly lies ahead somewhere.
"It's dusk. A time of dark stillness. You love it as you love the dawn. 'A'ida,' and 'pain' are two words with a single meaning. So you must love pain, even if from now on your rapture comes from defeat. The conversation keeps moving forward, and the friends laugh together and argue with each other as though none of them had ever experienced love. Husayn's laughter is full of healthy good spirits, Isma'il's of mischief and contention, and Hasan's of reserve and superiority. Husayn refuses to talk about anything but Ra's al-Barr. I promise to make a pilgrimage there one day. I'll ask what sand was trod by the beloved's feet, so I can prostrate myself to kiss it. The other two are singing the praises of San Stefano beach in Alexandria and talking about waves like mountains. Really? Imagine a body the waves cast onto the shore after the dreadful sea has sucked out its beauty and nobility. After all this, let us admit that weary vexation encompasses all living creatures. Possibly happiness lies beyond the gates of death."
The talk continued until it was time for them to go home. They shook hands with each other warmly. Kamal squeezed Husayn's hand, and Husayn squeezed his in return. Then, saying, "See you … in October," Kamal set off.
At a time like that any previous year he would have begun asking h imself fretfully when his friends would return. Now his desires were not tied to anyone's return. They would still be aflame whether or not October arrived and whether his friends returned or not. He would no longer be blaming the summer months for separating him from A'ida; an abyss much more profound than time had come between them. When time was the problem, he had been able to combat it with doses of patience and hope. Today he was fighting an unknown foe and a mysterious, supernatural force. He did not know a single word of the spells or charms used for it. He could only fall back on a wretched silence until God concluded what He had begun. Love seemed to be suspended over hishead like destiny, and he was fastened to it with bonds of excruciating pain. It resembled a force of nature more than anything else in its inevitability and strength. He studied it sadly and respectfully.
The three friends said goodbye in front of the Shaddad family mausion. Hasan Salim went on down Palaces Street, while Kamal and Isma'il as usual headed for al-Husayniya together. There they would part, with Isma'il going to Ghamra and Kamal to the ancient district. As soon as the two of them were alone, Isma'il laughed hard and long.
When Kamal asked him what was so funny, he replied mischievously, "Haven't you figured out yet that you're one of the main reasons speeding up the announcement of this engagement?"
"Me?" This slipped out from Kamal, whose eyes were wide with astonishment.
Isma'il said scornfully, "Yes, you. Hasan wasn't comfortable about your friendship with her. I feel certain of this, even though he never breathed a word of it. As you know, he's really stuck-up. But I find out what I want to. I assure you he was unhappy about your friendship. Do you remember that flare-up between you two? It's obvious that he asked her to stop visiting Husayn's friends, it's equally apparent that she reminded him that he had no right to request that. So he took this major step to get the right."
The pounding of hisheart almost drowned out his voice when Kamal said, "But I wasn't the only friend. A'ida was friends with all of us."
Isma'il replied sarcastically, "But she chose you to arouse his anxiety, perhaps because she sensed in your friendship a warmth she did not find with the others. In any case, she was not just reacting randomly to the situation. She decided long ago to win Hasan. Finally she's harvesting the fruit of her patience."
" 'Win Hasan'!" Kamal exclaimed to himself. " 'The fruit of her patience'! These phrases are like a fool's statement that the sun rises in the west."
With a sad heart, Kamal said, "How little you think of people! She's not at all the way you portray her."
Without grasping what his friend felt, Isma'il answered, "Perhaps it happened by chance. Hasan may have been imagining things. In any case, it all worked out to her benefit."
Kamal shouted angrily, "Her benefit'! What do you think? Glory to God, you speak as though her engagement to Hasan is a triumph for her, not for him."
Isma'il looked at him strangely and then said, "You don't seem to be convinced that men like Hasan are few and far between. He offers family, status, and a future. There are plenty of girls like A'ida … more of them than you think. I wonder if you don't have a higher opinion of her than she deserves. In my opinion, Hasan's family agreed to let him marry her because of her father's immense fortune. She's a girl" he hesitated before continuing "whose beauty is not extraordinary at any rate."
"Either he's crazy or you are," Kamal thought. He was transfixed by a pain comparable to that he had felt on reading an offensive attack against the Islamic system of marriage. "God's curse on all unbelievers!"
With a calmness that masked his anguish, he asked, "Then why does she have so many admirers?"
Isma'il disdainfully stuck out his lower jaw while tilting up his chin. "Perhaps you count me among them," he said. "I don't deny that she's amusing and elegant. And her Western upbringing has provided her social graces that make her seem particularly charming and attractive. All the same, she's dark and thin. There's nothing especially seductive about her. Come with me to Ghamra and you'll see all types of beauty. They leave hers in the shade, whether taken as a whole or singly. There you'll see true loveliness … fair complexions, swelling breasts, and plump hips. If you want beauty, this is it. There's nothing really desirable about A'ida."
"As if she were a female to be craved like Qamar or Maryam!" ECamal told himself. "Swelling breasts and plump hips? How can you describe a spirit using corporeal expressions? What stabbing pain!" It had been decreed that he should swallow the cup of anguish down to its dregs. Since lethal blows were falling in swift succession, death would be a mercy.
At al- Husayniya they parted, and each went his separate way.
OVER THE years his love for this street had never waned. Looking sadly at his surroundings, he mused, "If only my love for a woman were as constant as mine for this street, I'd escape many problems. What an excellent street… like a labyrinth!"
Every few meters it turned to the right or left. No matter where a person stood, he was always confronted by a curve, behind which an unknown world lay concealed. Narrowness gave the road an unassuming, familiar character, like that of a pet animal. A man sitting in a shop on the right could reach over and shake hands with his neighbor on the other side. Stretched between the tops of the stores, canvas awnings protected the street from the burning rays of the sun. Beneath them the humidity and diffused light created a dreamy atmosphere. Bunched together on shelves and benches were sacks of green henna, red cayenne, and black pepper along with flasks of rose water and perfume, colored wrapping paper, and diminutive scales. Hanging from the rafters was a decorative fringe of candles of diverse sizes and colors. The fragrance of different perfumes and colognes filled the air like the aroma of a distant dream.
"The black wraps and veils, the go]d nosepieces, the kohl-enhanced eyes, the heavy rumps - may He who bestows all blessings save me from them. To walk dreamily through these beautiful visions is one of my favorite sports, but I must acknowledge that it exhausts my heart and eye. If you start counting the women here, you'll never finish. What a blessed place it is that brings all of them together. The only way to protect yourself is to cry out from the depths of your heart, 'Yasin, you house wrecker!' A voice tells me that I should open a shop in al-Tarbi'a Alley and settle down. Your father's a merchant. He's his own boss. He spends much more on his amusements than you get from your salary. Open a store and put your trust in God, even if you have to sell the apartment in al-Ghuriya and the shop in al-Hamzawi. You arrive in the morning like a sultan. You're not bound to any schedule. There's no supervisor to terrify you. You sit behind the scales, and women come to you from every direction. 'Good morning, Mr. Yasin.'
'Stay healthy, Mr. Yasin.' I would have only myself to blame if I let a chaste woman pass without a greeting and a shameless one without a date. What a sweet idea this is, but what a cruel one for someone who will remain an officer of al-Nahhasin School to the end of his days. Love's a disease. Among its symptoms are constant hunger and a fie kle heart. Have mercy, God, on one You created with the appetite of a caliph or sultan but gave the job of a school disciplinarian. My hopes have been destroyed. It's pointless to lie to myself. The day you brought her to Palace of Desire Alley you anticipated a happy, contented life. May God destroy boredom. It pervades the soul as totally as the bad taste sickness brings to the mouth.] pursued herpassionately for a year but tired of her in a few weeks. What is misery if not this? Your home must have been the first one that ever overflowed with complaints during the honeymoon. Ask your heart what place Maryam has in it now and where the beauty is that drove you crazy. Let it reply with a laugh like a moan, 'We ate till we were full. Then we couldn't even stand the smell of food.' She's clever. It's hard to put something over on her. Nothing, escapesher. She's a bitch and the daughter of one. Remember the virtues of your deceased family members. Was your mother any better than hers? The important thing is that, unlike Zaynab, Maryam's not easy to deceive. How hard her anger is to bear when she gets annoyed…. She's not willing to close her eyes, and you're not easily satisfied. It's absurd to think that your fiery craAdngs can ever be met by one woman or that your heart will settle down. Even so, you hoped to achieve a happy married life. How magnificent your father is and how vile you are. … You haven't been able to follow his example, even though that would have saved you. O Lord, what's this I see? Is it really a woman? How many hundred pounds do you suppose she weighs? My God, I've never seen a woman so tall and wide. How can you take possession of this fiefdom? I swear if a woman her size fell into my hands, I'd stretch her out naked in the center of the room and circle her ritually seven times, as if she were a shrine, before putting it in her."
'You!"
The voice from behind made hisheart quiver. He quickly turned his eyes from the mammoth female and saw a young woman in a white coat. He could not help but exclaim, "Zanuba!"
They shook hands warmly and she laughed. He suggested they should keep walking to avoid attracting attention. So they strolled along side by side as the crowd swarmed around them. Thus they met again after a long separation. She had only rarely and infrequently crossed his mind after various considerations had distracted him. Yet he found her as beautiful as the day he left her, or possibly even more attractive. What was this new style of clothing she was wearing instead of the traditional black wrap? An invigorating wave of delight spread through him.
She asked, "How are you?"
"Great. And you?"
"Like this."
"Superb, praise God. You've changed the way you dress. I hardly recognized you at first. I still remember how you looked in your wrap when you walked."
"You haven't changed. You don't look older, but you've gained a little weight. That's the only thing."
"Now you're something else! You're a European girl!" He smiled cautiously before adding, "Except the hips come from al-Ghuriya."
"Watch your tongue!"
"You scare me. Have you repented or gotten married?"
"Nothing's beyond God's power."
"Your white coat belies a return to God. As for marriage, it's not farfetched to think a lack of sense would lead you to it someday."
"Watch out. I'm as good as married."
He laughed. As they turned into the Muski, he said, "Exactly like me."
"But you really are married. Isn't that so?"
"How did you learn that?" Then, reconsidering, he added, "Oh, I forgot that all our secrets eventually get to you."
He laughed again suggestively. Smiling mysteriously, she said, "You mean at the sultana's house?"
"Or my father's. Hasn't their affection continued?"
"Sort of."
"Everything with you is tentative now. Well, I'm sort of married. I mean I'm married and looking for a girlfriend."
She brushed a fly from her face, and the gold bracelets on her arm jingled. She said, "I'm a girlfriend who's looking for a marriage."
"A girlfriend? Who's the lucky son of a…"
She interrupted him, cautioning, "Don't insult people. He's an important man."
Eyeing her sarcastically, he said, "Important! Ha-ha, Zanuba, I wish I could ram my horn into you."
"Do you remember the last time we met?"
'Oh, my son Ridwan's six now. That must have been about seven years ago."
"A lifetime___"
"While still alive, one should never despair of meeting again."
Or of parting."
"You seem to have shrugged off loyalty with your black wrap."
She frowned at him and said, "Ox, who are you to talk about fidelity?"
He was pleased to see her become this familiar, for it encouraged his ambitions. He replied, "God only knows how delighted [am to see you again. I've thought of you frequently. But that's the way the world is."
"The world ofwomen, huh?"
Pretending to be upset, he said, "The world of death, the world of troubles."
"You seem to bear your troubles well. Mules could certainly envy your health."
"If only the beautiful eye isn't envious…."
"Are you afraid of the evil eye? You're as tall and broad as Abd al-Halim al-Masri."
He laughed conceitedly. After falling silent for a time, he asked in a new, serious tone, "Where were you going?"
"Why does a woman come to al-Tarbi'a Alley if not to shop? Or do you think everyone's like you with only one thought in life - sex?"
"Falsely accused, by God."
"You, innocent? When I caught sight of you, your eyes were assaulting a woman as big as a city gate."
"No. I was lost in thought and totally unaware of what I was looking at."
"You! My advice for anyone wishing to find you is to walk along al-Tarbi'a and look for the largest woman. I guarantee that he'll definitely find you stuck to her like a tick on a dog."
"Woman, your tongue gets more vicious every day."
"May God's holy name protect yours too."
"Never mind that. Let's stick to essentials. Where are you going now?
"I'm shopping. Then I'll go home."
He fell silent for a moment, as if hesitating. Then he said, "What would you think about us spending some time together?"
She glanced at him with playful black eyes and replied, "I have a jealous man to consider."
Ignoring her objection, he continued: "A nice place where we can have a couple of drinks."
In a louder voice than before she answered, "I told you there's a jealous man in my life."
Paying no attention to that comment, he added, "The Tout-Va-Bien … what do you think? It's a charming place and respectable. I'll get this taxi."
A mumbled protest escaped her. Then she asked with a disapproving tone not matched by her facial expression, "By force?" She glanced at her wristwatch, and this new gesture almost made him laugh. In a voice that laid down the law, she said, "Just don't make me late. It's six now, and I must be home before eight."
As the taxi set off, Yasin wondered whether anyone had noticed them in al-Tarbi'a or the Muski. He shrugged his shoulders disdainfully and with the handle of his ivory fly whisk shoved back his fez, which was slanting down over his right eyebrow. What did he care? Maryam was alone in the world. She did not have a savage guardian like Muhammad Iffat, who had wrecked the first marriage Yasin had established. His own father was a suave man who realized that Yasin was no longer an inexperienced child to be punished in the courtyard of the old house.
They took seats opposite each other at a table in the garden of the Tout-Va-Bien. The bar was crowded with men and women. The player piano was belting out its monotonous pieces, and the aroma of grilled meat came with the evening breeze from a far corner. She was so ill at ease that he realized it was the first time she had ever patronized a public establishment. He felt a sharp delight. The next moment he was certain that he was in the grips of a genuine longing, not just a transient lust. Those bygone days with her seemed the happiest of his whole life.
He ordered a bottle of cognac and then some grilled meat. His cheeks were growing flushed, and his black hair, parted in the middle like his father's, was visible when he removed his fez. On noticing the resemblance, Zanuba smiled faintly. He naturally did not understand why. For the first time ever he was sitting with a woman. in a tavern outside of the Wajh al-Birka entertainment district. It was also his first amorous adventure subsequent to his second marriage;, with the exception of one indiscretion in Abd al-Khaliq Alley. Aid he did not normally drink good-quality cognac outside his house. He only got first-rate liquor when he purchased bottles to take home for what he termed licit, "medicinal" purposes.
He filled the two glasses with pride and relief. Then, raising his, he said, 'To the health of Miss Zanuba Martell."
She answered with sweet arrogance, "I drink Dewar's scotch with the bey."
He grumbled, "I don't want to hear about him. May our Lord put him in the past tense."
"No way!"
"We'll see. Each glass we drink opens up new doors for us and smooths away difficulties."
They both sensed that the time was short and drank quickly. The glasses were filled and drained again and again. The cognac's fiery tongue began to trill in their stomachs, and the mercury of intoxication rose in the thermometer of their veins. The green leaves watching them from pots behind the wooden garden railing revealed glistening smiles. The piano's music fell on more indulgent ears. Faces both dreamy and feisty repeatedly exchanged fond and friendly looks. Waves of cool evening air flowed around them with silent music. Everything seemed pleasant and beautiful.
"Do y ou know what I felt like saying when I first saw you today-when you were gazing, as if possessed, at that woman?"
"Yes? … But finish your glass first, so I can fill it."
Helping herself to a sliver of meat, she continued: "I almost shouted, 'You son of a bitch …' "
Laughing fruitily, he asked, "Why didn't you, bitch's daughter?"
"Because I only curse men I love. You were little more than a stranger to me then."
"How about now?"
"A bastard for sixty generations."
"My goodness, an insult's even more intoxicating at times than alcohol. This blessed night will be in all the papers tomorrow."
"Why, God forbid? Do you intend to cause trouble?"
"Lord, be gracious to her, and to me."
Then she inquired with obvious interest, "Why haven't you told me about your new wife?"
Stroking his mustache, he answered, "The poor dear! Her mother died this year."
"May you have a long life. Was she rich?"
"She left a house, the one beside ours - I mean next to my father's. But she left it jointly to her new husband and my wife."
"Your wife must be a beauty, for you always get the best."
He replied cautiously, "She has a certain beauty, but it doesn't compare with yours."
"Shame on you."
"Have you ever known me to lie?"
"You! There are times when I even doubt that your name's Yasin."
"Then let's drink this round too."
"Are you getting me drunk so I'll believe you?"
"If I tell you I want you and long for you, would you doubt me then?"
"You probably talk like this to every woman you meet."
"Say rather that a hungry man desires all kinds of food yet retains a hankering for mallow greens."
"A man who really loves a woman will not hesitate to marry her."
He sighed and then said, "You're mistaken. I'd like to stand on this table and scream at the top of my lungs, 'Any of you men who's in love with a woman don't marry her.' Yes, nothing kills love so effectively as marriage. Believe me. I've learned from my own experience. I married once and then a second time. I know how true this is."
"Perhaps you haven't yet found the woman who's right for you."
"Right? What kind of woman would that be? Which of my senses will guide me to her? Where is this woman who'll never be boring?"
She laughed lethargically and then commented, "It sounds as if you'd like to be a bull in a pasture full of cows. That's what you need."
Snapping his fingers appreciatively, he said, "God, God! Who used to call me that in the old days? It was my father, may he have a good evening. How I wish I could be like him. He acquired a wife whose obedience and moderation are exemplary and has been able to give free rein to his passions without encountering any problems. He's successful in his marriage and in his affairs. That's what I'd like."
"How old ishe?"
"I think he's about fifty-five, but he's stronger than most young men."
"No one can hold out against time forever. May our Lord grant him good health."
"My father's the exception. He's the sweetheart of women other men crave. Don't you see him nowadays at your house?"
Laughing and tossing a bone to a cat meowing at her feet, she said, "I left that house some months ago. Now I have my own home. I'm the lady of the house."
"Really? I thought you were joking. Have you left the troupe as well?"
"Yes. You're speaking to a lady in every sense of the word."
He guffawed contentedly. Then he said, "So drink and let me drink. May our Lord be gracious to us."
He felt temptation inside and outside him. But which was the voice and which the echo? Even more marvelous was the life throbbing in material objects around them. The flowerpots whispered as they rocked back and forth. The pillars exchanged secrets. As the sky gazed down with starry, sleep-filled eyes at the earth, it spoke. He and his companion exchanged messages expressing their inmost feelings while a glow, both visible and invisible, confounded their hearts and dazzled their eyes. Something was at work in the world, tickling people until they were plunged into laughter. A look, word, gesture, anything was enough to induce all of them to laugh. Time fled as quickly as youth. The waiters carrying the fermented germ of exuberance distributed it to all the tables with grave faces. The tunes of the piano seemed to come from far away and were almost drowned out by the clattering wheels of the streetcar. On the sidewalk rowdy boys and men collecting cigarette butts created a commotion like the drone of flies, as night's legions set up camp in the district.
"You seem to be watching for the waiter to come ask, 'Are you too drunk to find your way home?' You're ignoring and avoiding that issue and an even more important one. If only Maryam would kneel before you and whisper, 'All I need is one room where I can busy myself obeying your every command. Fill the rest of the apartment with all the women you want.' If the headmaster at school would only pat you on the shoulder and say, 'How's your father, my son?' If only the government would carve out a new street in front of the store in al-Hamzawi and the residence in al-Ghuriya. If only Zanuba would tell you, 'Tomorrow I'm leaving my lover's house and then I'll be at your service.' If all this would happen, people would gather after the Friday prayer service and kiss each other with sincere affection. Tonight the best thing you can do is to sit on the sofa while Zanuba dances naked in front of you. Then you'll have a chance to monitor the beauty spot over her navel."
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