"How's the beloved beauty spot?" he asked as he smilingly gestured toward his own belly.
She laughed and replied, "It kisses your hand".
Glancing casually around the place, he said, "Do you see these men? Each is the debauched son of a fallen woman. All drunks are like this."
"We're honored. But my brain is flying off in every direction". "
I hope the part inhabited by your boyfriend soars away.
"Oh, if he knew what's become of us! He'll stab you one day with the tip of his mustache."
"Ishe a Syrian with a colossal one?"
"Syrian?" Then she started singing in a loud voice the Syrian dialect word for salve: "Barhum, oh barhum …"
"Hush. Don't attract attention."
"Whose attention, blind man? Only a few people are left."
After rubbing his stomach and sighing, he observed, "Drink's a crazy thing."
"The crazy thing was your mother."
"You're talking louder than you should. Let's go."
"Where?"
"You know more than I do. Our feet will decide."
"Is a person successful when he lets his feet guide him?"
"That's safer at any rate than relying on a disordered brain."
"Think a little about…"
He interrupted her by rising tipsily and saying, "We need to act without any thought. Until tomorrow morning there's no point trying to think. Let's go."
"THE HOUSES have closed their eyes. The streets are vacant except for an occasional roving breeze or the light from a sleepy lamp. Free from any competition, silence has wandered everywhere, spreading its wings. What good are hotels? The desk clerks look askance at you, as if you've got a dizzying disease they don't want to catch. Yes, you can scoff at their hostility, but you still don't have a place to stay. Other lovers are tucked in bed. How long are you going to wander around? Here's a driver raising hishead heavy with sleep. He's looking at you in a welcoming way. God's mercy on anyone who drags a woman around in the wee hours of the night looking for a place to stay."
"Where to?" Yasin asked.
The driver replied with a smile, "Anywhere you want."
Yasin told him, "I wasn't asking you."
The man replied, "At your service, in any case."
"Don't ask me," Zanuba said. "Ask yourself. Why didn't you think about that before you got drunk?"
Encouraged by seeing them stand beside his carriage, the coachman suggested, "The Nile! That's the best place. Shall I take you to the banks of the Nile?"
Yasin asked contentiously, "Are you a coachman or a sailor? What would we do by the Nile at this hour of the night?"
The driver said suggestively, "The light's dim, and no one's around."
"Ideal conditions for thieves."
Zanuba said fearfully, "Terrible! My ears, neck, and arms are weighted down with gold."
Shrugging his shoulders, the driver said, "There's nothing to fear. Every night I go there with fine people like you and we return in top condition."
Zanuba said sharply, "Don't mention the Nile. Talking about it makes my body shudder."
"May evil stay far from your body."
On taking his place in the carriage next to Zanuba, Yasin said, "Talk to me. What's her body to you?"
"Bey, I'm your servant."
"Eveiything's a mess tonight."
"May our Lord straighten it out. If you'd like a hotel, we'll go to one."
"We've quarreled with the clerks in three hotels. Three or four, Zanuba? Think of something else."
"There's always the Nile."
Zanuba said angrily, "The gold, fellow."
Putting his feet on the other seat, Yasin added, "Besides, there's no place to …"
The driver answered, "There's always the carriage."
Zanuba shouted, "Are you trying to humiliate me?"
Twisting his mustache, Yasin said, "You're right. Absolutely. The carriage isn't the place. I'm not going to act like a foolish kid at this stage in my life. Listen___"
The man turned his ear, and Yasin yelled imperiously, "To Palace of Desire Alley."
"Clip-clop, clip-clop… you're plunging into the darkness with no friend save the stars," Yasin reflected.
Anxiety loomed on the horizon only to sink back into a sea of forgetfuJness, like an elusive memory. His willpower had dissolved in a glass ofwine. Then his companion in merrymaking asked him with a drunken stammer where he washeading in Palace of Desire Alley.
He replied, "My house, which I inherited from my mother."
"The fates decreed that she lived for love there and left it in trust to love at her death," he thought. "It has greeted with yearning Umm Maryam and her daughter Maryam. Tonight it will open its arms to a lady from my past."
"What about your wife, drunkard?"
"She's sound asleep."
"Isn't there a reckoning for everything?"
"You' re with a man whose heart doesn't know the meaning of fear. Pluck some pearls from the heavens and drape your forehead with them. Sing softly into my ear, 'Bring me my love tonight, Mother.'"
"Where am I going to spend the rest of it?"
"I'll take you anywhere you want."
"You couldn't carry a straw home."
"How about Paris on the Mediterranean?"
"If only I weren't afraid of him."
"Who ishe?"
Throwing her head back, she answered despondently, "Who knows? I've forgotten."
Al-Gamaliya was scarcely visible in the darkness. Even the coffeehouse had closed its doors. The carriage stopped at the entrance to Palace of Desire Alley. As Yasin stepped down, he belched. Supporting herself on his arm, Zanuba followed. They walked off together with a caution that did not keep them from swaying tipsily. Behind them they heard the cough of the driver and the squeaking shoes of the night watchman, who passed inquisitively by the carriage as it turned around.
She told him, "The ground's uneven. It's rough walking here."
He replied, "It'll be easy going in the house". Then he added, "Don't worry."
Although sporting a silly smile that was lost in the shadows, Zanuba tried in vain to remind him that his wife was in the apartment they were approaching. She almost stumbled twice climbing the stairs. When they reached the door of the apartment they were both panting. Alarm at the situation momentarily lent their scattered wits the impetus to collect the shreds of consciousness.
Yasin carefully turned the key in the lock, gently shoved the door open, and searched for Zanuba's ear in the darkness. Bending over, he whispered for her to remove her shoes. After taking his off, he stepped in front of her, put her hand on his shoulder, and headed for the parlor near the entrance. Opening that door, he slipped inside with her still behind him. They sighed with relief. Closing the door, he led her to the sofa, where they sat down together.
She said uneasily, "It's very dark, I don't like the dark."
Putting their shoes under the sofa, he replied, "You'll get used to it soon."
"My head's beginning to spin."
"Only now?"
Without paying any attention to her response, he rose suddenly and whispered with alarm, "I didn't shut the outside door". Putting up his hand to remove his fez, he cried out, "I forgot my fez too! Do you suppose I left it in the carriage or at Tout-Va-Bien"
"To hell with your fez! Lock the door, fellow."
Once again he slipped into the hall and over to the outside door, which he shut with extreme care. On his way back a tempting idea struck him. He went to the console table, holding his hand out in front of him to keep from bumping into one of the chairs. Then he returned to the parlor holding a half-empty bottle of cognac.
Placing it in her lap, he said, "I've brought you the remedy for everything."
After feeling the bottle with her hand she exclaimed, "Liquor!… Enough's enough. Do you want us to spill over?"
"One sip to help us catch our breath after all this exertion."
He drank until he felt that he was capable of anything and that insanity was a desirable condition. Then the sea of inebriation began to rage. He rode high on a wave only to plunge down again. He spun round in an endless whirlpool. In the corners of the room there were protruding tongues, raving and ranting in the darkness. Boisterous laughter escaped from these throats with a clamor like the commotion of a market, followed by nothing less than singing. The bottle fell to the floor with a warning thump. But he had a lap to finish swimming, even if he had to do it in a sea of perspiration. The time might have been long or short. He was not keeping track. His eyes were closed and oblivious to the passing and graying of the darkness.
Thushe awakened to voices and movement like a happy dreamer just stretching out his hand to pluck a new treat. Opening his eyes, he saw light and shadow dancing together on the walls. He turned his neck and noticed Maryam at the door. She was holding a lamp, and its light clearly revealed scowling features and eyes flashing with anger. The couple sprawled across the sofa exchanged long, extraordinary looks with the woman standing at the door. Theirs were unsteady and confused, hers flaming with outrage. The silence was unbearable. Zanuba revealed her anxiety by opening her mouth to speak without being able to get any words out. Then she was suddenly overwhelmed by laughter for no apparent reason. She was so convulsed that she had to hide her face in her hands.
Yasin shouted at her with slurred diction, "That's enough laughter! This is a respectable home."
Maryam seemed to want to speak, but either her tongue would not cooperate or fury rendered her speechless. Without knowing what he was saying, Yasin told her, "I found this 'lady' in a severely intoxicated condition. So I brought her home to sober up."
Zanuba was not going to keep quiet about this. She protested, "He's the drunk, as you can see. And he brought me here by force."
Maryam made a motion as if she was seriously considering throwing the lamp at them. Yasin tensed his body and gave her a look that showed he was prepared. But she immediately had second thoughts, once she realized the serious implications of such an act. She placed the lamp on a table and clenched her teeth with rage. Then, her voice dry and trembling but coarsened by resentment and anger, she spoke for the first time: "In my house!… In my house? In my house, you criminal child of the devils."
Her voice reverberated like thunder as she poured curses upon him and called him the filthiest names. She screamed, raising her voice so loud that it could be heard through the walls. She summoned the tenants and neighbors, swearing to expose him and to awaken people to be witnesses against him.
Yasin tried in various ways to caution her to keep quiet. He waved his hand at her, stared at her, and scolded her loudly. When these methods failed, he rose excitedly. He went toward her with long steps to reach her as fast as he could without actually running, for he was afraid of losing his balance. He pounced on her and spread his hand over her mouth to keep her from talking. But she screeched in his face like a desperate cat and kicked him in the belly. He backed off unsteadily, his face clouded with resentment and pain. Then he fell flat on his face, like a building collapsing.
A resounding scream burst forth from Zanuba. Maryam ran and fell upon her, pulling the intruder's hair with her right hand while digging the nails of the other one into the woman's neck. She began to spit in Zanuba's face and then to curse and insult her. Yasin got up again at once, shaking hishead violently, as if to expel his hangover. He went to the sofa and aimed a fierce blow at the back of his wife, who was lying on top of her rival. Maryam screeched and retreated. He pursued her. Blinded by anger, he rained punches on her until she got on the far side of the dining table. Then she took off one of her slippers and hurled it at him, striking him in the chest. He tried to catch her, pursuing her around the hall.
He shouted at her, "I never want to see you again". Then he pronounced the irreversible triple divorce formula: "You're divorced, divorced, divorced!"
There was a rapping on the door, and the woman who lived on the second floor could be heard crying, "Mrs. Maryam, Mrs. Maryam!"
Breathless, Yasin stopped running. Maryam opened the door and in a voice that filled the whole stairwell immediately said, "Come look in this room and tell me if you've ever seen anything like this before. A whore in my house, drunk and disorderly. Come and see!"
The neighbor said timidly, "Calm down, Mrs. Maryam. Come stay with me till morning."
Yasin cried out recklessly, "Go with her. You have no right to stay in my house."
Maryam screamed in his face, "Adulterer! Criminal! Bringing a whore to your wife's home!"
He pounded on the wall with his fist and shouted at her, "You're a whore! You and your mother!"
"You insult my mother when she's with God?"
"You re a whore. I know that for sure. Don't you remember the English soldiers? It's my fault for not paying attention to the warnings of decent people."
"I'm your spouse, the crown of your life. I'm better than your folks and your mother. Ask yourself what kind of man marries a woman he 'knows' is a whore as you claim. What ishe but a despicable pimp?" Gesturing toward the parlor, she suggested, "Marry that woman. She's the type that fits your filthy character."
'One more word and your blood will spill out where you're standing."
But screams and fiery invective kept leaping from her throat. Finally the neighbor got between them to be able to separate them if necessary. She began patting Maryam's shoulder and imploring her to leave the apartment until morning.
Yasin got even more upset and yelled at her, "Take your clothes and leave! Get out of my sight. You're not my wife. I don't know you. I'm going into this room now. You'll be sorry if I find you here when I come out again". He rushed into the parlor, slamming the door behind him so violently that the walls shook. Then he threw himself on the sofa and dried the sweat from his brow.
Zanuba whispered, "I'm frightened."
He replied gruffly, "Shut up. What are you afraid of?" In a loud voice he said, "I'm free! Free!"
As though to herself she remarked, "What could have happened to my mind to make me obey you and come here?"
"Hush! What's done is done. I'm not sorry about anything…. Phooey!"
Through the closed door several voices reached them, indicating that more than one of the neighbor women had gathered around the angry wife. Then Maryam's voice was audible, sobbing, "Have you ever heard of anything like this before? A prostitute off the street in a home? I woke up because they were making such a racket. They were laughing and singing. Yes, by God, they were singing shamelessly. They were so drunk they were oblivious to everything. Tell me if this is a residence or a brothel."
Then a woman's voice protested, "Are you packing up your clothes and leaving home? This is your house, Mrs. Maryam. It's not right for you to leave. It's the other woman who should go."
Maryam cried out, "It's not my house anymore. That honorable gentleman has divorced me."
The other woman replied, "He wasn't in his right mind. Come with us now. Let's leave talk for the morning. In spite of everything, Yasin Effendi's a fine man and comes from a good family. God's curse on Satan. Come along, daughter. Don't grieve."
Maryam shouted, "No talking! No settling! May the sun never rise again on that criminal son of a crooked mother."
There were footsteps of people retreating. Finally only an indistinct buzz of voices could be heard. Then the door was closed with a loud bang. Yasin breathed deeply and stretched out on his back.
HE OPENED his eyes to find the morning sunshine filling the room. Me had the worst hangover of his entire life, although the preceding night had hardly been his first time to get drunk. Rotating hishead mechanically, he noticed Zanuba snoring beside him. Then his memory recalled the events of the past night in one fell swoop. Zanuba was in Maryam's bed. And Mary am? … With the neighbors. And the scandal?… Broadcast everywhere. What a giant leap into the bottomless pit of destruction! What use was there for anger or regret now? What was done was done. Everything might change but not the previous day. Should he wake her up? Why should he? Let her sleep to her heart's content. Let her stay where she was, for she could not leave the house until dark.
He had to revive himself to meet his difficult day. He pulled the light cover from his body, slipped out of bed, and padded out of the bedroom. His hair was disheveled, his eyelids swollen, and his eyes red. He yawned in the hallway with a bovine sound. Looking at the open door of the parlor, he sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and moaned in response to his hangover. Then he headed for the bathroom. He really had a hard day in front of him. Maryam was at the neighbor's, while the other woman occupied the bed. Day had overtaken him before he could conceal the traces of his crime. How crazy! He should have spirited her out before going to bed. How co aid he have been so negligent? What disaster had befallen him? When and how had he moved her from the parlor to the bedroom? He did not remember anything. He did not even recall how and when he had fallen asleep. The upshot was a colossal scandal with nothing to show for it. It had been a perfectly innocent evening but one now as filled with disgrace as hishead was with distress and discomfort. But it was hardly amazing, for the apartment, a bequest from his mother, God forgive her, had long been inhabited by scandalous demons. The mother had passed on, but the son had remained to become the butt of the neighborhood gossip. By the following day the news would have reached Palace Walk.
"Forward, denizen of the abyss of debauchery. If this cold water you're using to wash your body could only cleanse your mind of its evil memories…. Who knows? Perhaps if you look out the window, you'll find a group of people watching at your doorway for the departure of the woman who expelled your wife and took her place. No, you won't allow her to leave today, no matter what. As for Maryam, you've divorced her. You divorced her without wanting to, when her mother's grave is still fresh. What will people say of you, liar?"
He felt a pressing need for a cup of coffee to revive his senses. On his way from bathroom to kitchen he noticed the console table in the front hall and remembered the bottle of cognac that had spilled in the parlor. He wondered for a moment if the rug was damaged but then remembered with ironic regret that the furniture was no longer his property. It would soon go to join the woman who owned it.
In a few minuteshe was carrying a glass half filled with coffee to the bedroom, where he found Zanuba sitting up in bed as she stretched and yawned.
She turned toward him and said, "A good morning for both of us! We'll have breakfast at the police station, God willing."
He took a sip and looked at her over the rim of the glass. Then he said, "Pray to God the Omniscient Benefactor."
She waved her hands until the gold bracelets jangled. Then she blurted out, "You're responsible for everything that's happened."
He sat down on the bed near her outstretched legs. He answered uneasily, "A trial, huh? I told you to address God the Omniscient Benefactor."
She rubbed the small of his back with her heels as she moaned, "You've destroyed my home. God only knows what's waiting for me there."
Ashe crossed one leg over the other, his house shirt rode up to reveal a thigh that was firm and covered with a forest of coal-black hair. He asked, "Your boyfriend?… May God disappoint him! What'she compared with my wife, whom I've divorced? You're the one who's devastated my household. It's my home that's destroyed."
As though addressing herself, she said, "It's been a dark night.
[haven't been able to tell my head from my feet, and the din is still ringing in my head. But it's my fault. I should never have listened to you."
He suspected she actually was pleased, her complaints notwithstanding;, or that she was using them to get at him. Had he not known women in the Ezbekiya fleshpots who boasted of the number of bloody battles waged over them? But he did not get angry. Matters had reached such a desperate pass that he was spared the effort of trying to remedy them.
He could not help laughing as he observed, "It's the worst catastrophes that make you laugh. Laugh! You've wrecked my home and replaced my wife. Get up and pull yourself together. Prepare for a long stay… till night falls. You won't leave the house until it's dark."
"What dreadful news! Imprisoned! Where's your wife?"
"I don't have a wife anymore."
"Where is she?"
"In divorce court, if my guess is correct."
"I'm afraid she'll attack me when I leave."
"You afraid? Lord have mercy on us! Last night, menacing though she was, you didn't lose a bit of your sly pluck, you niece of Zubayda."
She laughed for a long time. She seemed to be acknowledging the charge against her and to be proud of it too. Then she put out her hand to take the glass of coffee. After drinking a little, she returned the glass and asked, "Now what?"
"As you can see, I'm in the dark too. It hurts to be exposed in front of people the way I was last night."
Shrugging her shoulders disdainfully, she said, "Don't worry about it. There's not a man alive who hasn't more dirty linen than the earth has room to hide."
"Just the same, a scandal's a scandal. Think of the fight, the wailing, the divorce at dawn. Picture the neighbors coming with alarmed curiosity to my apartment. Their eyes took in everything."
She frowned and said, "She started it!"
He could not restrain his sardonic laughter. She persisted: "If she had been wise, she could have worked everything out. Even str? ngen, in the street are considerate to boisterous drunks. She's the one who brought the divorce down on herself. What did you say to her? 'Whore and daughter of a whore'? Huh? And something else about English soldiers?"
He only remembered this now. Giving her a peeved look, he wondered how these phrases had taken root in her memory. He muttered uneasily, "I was angry. I didn't know what I was saying."
"Humbug!"
"Humbug to you!"
"English soldiers? Did you get her from one of their haunts like the Finish Bar?"
"God forbid. She's from a decent family, lifelong neighbors. It was just anger, a thousand curses on it."
"Without anger, secrets would never come to light."
"By your aunt's life, we have enough trouble as it is."
"Tell me about the English soldiers, as if there was anything I didn't know about them___"
In a loud, defiant voice he replied, "I told you it was anger. That'll do."
She groaned sarcastically and then asked, "Are you defending her? Then go get her back."
"Curses on anyone shameless and cold-blooded enough to do that."
"Curses…."
She got out of bed and went to the mirror. Picking up Maryam's comb, she began to fix her hair quickly as she asked, "What will I do if the man breaks up with me?"
"Tell him goodbye. My house is always open to you."
She turned toward him and said sadly, "You don't understand what you're saying. We were thinking seriously about marriage."
"Marriage! Haven't you dropped that idea after you saw what it's like last night?"
She answered shrewdly, "You don't understand. I'm tired of being a kept woman. All it brings is ruin. A woman like me who weds really values her marriage."
"Who's the idiot?" he asked himself. "In the troupe she was never anything more than a lute player. After thirty a prostitute's over the hill, and she'll be thirty soon. So marriage is her best bet. Is she aiming this talk at you? What a delightful devil! I won't deny I want her. I desire her in the strongest possible way. My scandal bears witness to that."
"Do you love him?"
As if angered, she replied, "If I loved him, you wouldn't find me imprisoned here now."
Although skeptical of her veracity, he longed for her. Yes, even if her heart was not sincere, she had clearly shown a weakness for him.
"I can't do without you, Zanuba. To get you, I've done crazy things, not caring about the consequences. You're mine, and I've been yours for a long time."
Silence reigned. She seemed to be waiting impatiently for more. When he did not continue, she asked, "Should I sever my ties with that man? I'm not a woman who can bounce back and forth between two lovers."
"Who ishe?"
"A merchant from the Citadel region called Muhammad al-Qulali."
"Married?"
"And he's got children, but he has lots of money."
"He promised to marry you?"
"He's trying to talk me into it, but I've been hesitating. The circumstances and the fact that he's a husband and father suggest there could be problems."
He put up with her deceitfulness for the sake of her beautiful eyes. "Why don't we go back to the way we were. I'm not destitute, in any case."
"I don't care about your money, but I'm sick of living in sin."
"What's to be done?"
"That's what I'm asking."
"Explain."
"I've said more than enough."
What an unexpected attack! Yes, at first glance it seemed ludicrous, but he wanted her. So he was forced to play along. After a pause he said, "I won't try to hide my low opinion of marriage from you."
"I have a low opinion of living in sin."
"That wasn't how you talked yesterday."
"Then I had a husband within reach, but today…"
"With a little flexibility, we can meet each other halfway. There's one thing you must never lose sight of: No matter how long I stey with you, I'll never let you go."
She cried out defiantly, "Your past adventures really bear that out!"
To hide the weakness of his position he replied earnestly, "A man doesn't learn without paying a price."
"Words no longer beguile me. Shame on you men!"
"And on you women too … isn't that so?" he thought. "Have mercy, niece of Zubayda. You arrive here drunk after midnight, and in the morning you're tired of living in sin. Perhaps she told herself, 'If his second wife was a whore, why shouldn't I be the third one?' How low Yasin has fallen. Have you forgotten the trouble ready to pounce on you outside? Let those problems wait. Just don't lose Zanuba with an ugly remark the way you did Maryam. Maryam? I'm atoning for my sin now, Fahmy."
He said calmly, "Our relationship must not end."
"It's up to you whether it continues or ends."
"We need to meet a lot and think a lot."
"As far as I'm concerned, I don't need to think anymore."
"So either I convince you of my opinion or you convince me of the wisdom of yours."
"I'll never come around to yours."
She left the room and did not let him see her smile. He gazed after her rounded back with a look of amazement. Yes, everything seemed amazing. But where was Maryam? On her own, wherever she was. He would not get any rest or peace. He would be questioned tomorrow at Palace Walk and the following day at the Islamic court. All the same, their life during the last period had been one long wrangle. She had even told him quite bluntly, "I hate you and I hate living with you."
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