that he had been unusually hard on his son when he was growing
up. Few fathers were so strict. Vasin had submitted totally to this
discipline in a way that few sons would have.
He turned his mind thoughtfully to Zaynab, but he felt no sympathy
for her. He had tried to comfort her out of respect for her
father, who was his dear friend, but he felt the girl was not really
worthy of her father. It was not appropriate for a good wife to implicate
her husband in a scandal as she had, no matter what the ciro
cumstances. How she had wailed! How she had screamed! What
would he have done if Amina had surprised him one day in a comparable
situation? But what was she compared with Amina? Moreover,
how shamelessly she had recounted to him everything she had
seen Pshaw! Pshaw! If this girl had not been Muhammad Iffat's
daughter, Yasin would have been within his rights to discipline her
for what she had done. He himself would not have been happy to
allow this incident to pass without a scolding to punish her. Yasin
had made a mistake, but she had made an even greater one.
Then his thoughts quickly returned to Yasin. With inner joy he
thought about the temperament they both shared. They had no doubt
inherited it from the grandfather. It might well be blazing in Fahmy's
chest behind a veil of culture and morality. In fact, did he not remem
ber
how he had come home unexpectedly one day and heard Kamal
singing "O bird, you up in the tree"? He had waited outside the door,
not merely to pretend he had arrived after the song was completed
but also to follow the voice, savoring its timbre and probing its length
of breath. When the boy had finished the tune, he had banged the
3 9°
Naguib Mahfou
door and coughed when he entered. He had concealed inside his
breast his delight, which no one had detected. He was pleased to see
himself flourishing once more in the lives of his sons--at least during
calm and serene times. But not so fast.... Yasin's disposition was
peculiar to him and not something they shared. They did not have a
single temperament, if the precise meaning of the word was to be
respected. Yasin was a blind animal.... He had assaulted Umm Ha
nail once and had been caught again with Nur. He thought nothing
of wallowing in the mud. He himself was not like that!
Yes, he could understand how vexing it had been for Yasin to be
forced to spend the night in something like a prison. He understood,
because he had endured it too, feeling depressed and sad, as though
he had lost a loved one. Suppose he had been strolling around the
roof garden like the boy and had come upon a maid--assuming she
was to his liking--would he have embarked on this adventure? Certainly
not.., absolutely not! But what obstacle would have restrained
him? Perhaps the location? The family! Perhaps his maturity.... Oh,
he became irritated when this last possibility came to mind. He imagined
that he envied Yasin both his youthful appetite and the folly of
his slip No, however that might be, they had two different temperaments.
AI-Sayyid Ahmad was not infatuated with women per se, with no
conditions or stipulations. His lust was always distinguished by a
taste for luxury. It was propelled by a refined sense of selection. It
was concerned about social qualifications, which it lumped together
with the customary physical ones. He was infatuated with feminine
beauty in all its flesh, coquetry, and elegance. Jalila, Zubayda, Mar
yarn's mother, and tens more like them had all possessed at least
some of these characteristics. In addition to that, it was not like him
to be comfortable or content without a delightful setting and a congenial
gathering, along with the wine, pleasant conversation, and music
that went with such occasions. He did not need to spend much
time with a new lover before she would realize what he desired and
prepare the kind of setting his soul yearned for, with a fragrant atmosphere
redolent of roses, incense, and musk.
Just as he loved beauty in the abstract, he loved it in its glittering
social framework. He liked to be noticed and to have a widespread
reputation. Therefore he enjoyed sharing his love and lovers with his
special friends, except on those rare occasions when circumstances
required him to be discreet and secretive, as with Maryam's mother.
PALACE WALK
This social use of his love did not require him to sacrifice beauty, for
in his circle beauty and reputation went hand in hand, like an object
and its shadow. Beauty was most often the magic wand that opened
the door to reputation and noteworthy status. He had been the lover of some of the most famous entertainers of his time. Not one of them
had disappointed his yearning for beauty or his craving for loveliness.
For these reasons he thought scornfully of Yasin's conquests. He
repeated disapprovingly, "Umm Hanafi!... Nut!... What a beast
he is!"He himself was innocent of such abnormal lusts, although he
did not need to wonder too long about their source. He had not
forgotten the woman who had given birth to Yasin. She had passed
on to him her character with its passion for the sordid. He was responsible
for the strength of Yasin's lust, but she had to answer for
the nature of this lust and its base inclinations.
The next morning he thought seriously about the issue again. He
almost summoned the couple to try to reconcile them with each other and with him, but he deferred it to a more appropriate time than
morning.
When Fahmy asked Yasin why he stayed away from the breakfast
table, he answered tersely, "It's just some trivial thing. I'll tell you
about it later."
Fahmy remained in the dark about the secret reason his father was
angry with Yasin until he learned that the maid Nur had disappeared.
He was then able to guess everything. The morning started off in an
unusual way for the family, because Yasin left the house early and
Zaynab stayed in her room. Then the other men of the family left the
house. They were agitated and careful not to look at the soldiers.
Behind the peephole of the window, the mother prayed for God to
protect them from any harm.
Amina did not want to become involved in the "incident" on the
roof. She went down to the oven room and waited from one moment
to the next for Zaynab to join her as usual. She would not admit that
Zaynab had a right to be angry about her honor. She considered it a
form of coquetry of which she disapproved. She began to ask herself,
"How can she claim rights for herself that no other woman has ever
claimed?,,
It was clear that Yasin had done something wrong. He had defiled
pure house. But he had wronged his father and stepmother, not
aynab "I'm an angel compared with that girl "
As the waiting became protracted, she could no longer pretend to
Naguib Mahfou
ignore the girl. She convinced herself that it was her duty to go
console her. She went up to her apartment and called her. She entered
the room and found no trace of her. She went from room to room,
calling her until she had searched the whole house. Then she struck
her hands together and exclaimed, "0 Lord... has Zaynab seen fit
to leave her home?"
Amina found no relief from her anxiety all day long. The possibility
that the soldiers would stop one of her men going or coming never
left her head. Fahmy was the first to return. On seeing him, she felt
slightly less anxious, but when she noticed he was frowning she
asked, "What's the matter, son?"
He complained, "I hate these soldiers."
The woman told him apprehensively, "Don't let them see it. If you
love me, don't do it."
Even without her entreaty he would not have. He was not bold
enough to challenge them with even a look as he walked along at
their mercy. He kept his eyes from turning to gaze at any of them.
On his way home he had asked himself sarcastically what they would
do with him if they knew he was returning from a demonstration
during which a violent confrontation had taken place and that early
in the morning he had distributed tens of handbills inciting people to
resist the soldiers.
He sat down to pass in review the events of the day. He recalled
a few of them as they had actually happened but most as he wished
they had been. It was his notion to work during the day and dream
in the evening. In both cases, he was motivated by the most sublime
and most hideous emotions: patriotism and a desire to kill and devastate.
His dreams would intoxicate him for some time and then he
would rouse himself, sad that they were impossible to carry out and
depressed because they seemed silly. The fabric of these dreams was
Woven from the battles he would lead like Joan of Arc. Having seized
the enemy's weapons, he would attack, achieving the defeat of the
English, and then deliver his immortal speech in Cairo's Opera
Square. The English would be forced to announce the independence
of Egypt. Sa'd would return triumphant from exile. Fahmy would
meet the leader, who would address the nation. Maryam would be
present at the historic inauguration. Yes, his dreams were always
crowned by the image of Maryam, even though, like the moon hidden
behind storm clouds, she had been tucked away all this time in a
remote corner of his heart that was beset by distractions.
394 Naguib MoAfou R
Before he knew what was happening, his mother, tightening the
kerchief around her head, told him uneasily, "Zaynab's angry and has left for her father's home."
Oh... he had almost forgotten what had happened to his brother
and family that morning. His speculations when he learned that the
maid, Nur, had disappeared were now confirmed. He avoided his
mother's eyes in embarrassment. He did not want her to discern what
was passing through his mind, especially since he was sure she knew
the truth of the matter. He thought it likely that she realized he knew
about it too or at least suspected he did. He did not know what to
say, since in his conversations with her he was not accustomed to
pretending things he did not feel. He hated nothing so much as having
wiles replace candor in their relationship. He limited himself to
muttering, "May our Lord remedy the situation."
Amina said nothing more, as though the disappearance of Zaynab
was a trivial event to be dismissed with a declarative statement and
a pious wish.
Fahmy had to hide a smile, which almost betrayed that he knew
more than he was saying. He realized that his mother was suffering
too. She was uneasy because she had no natural talent for acting. She
was not good at lying. Even if she was forced to prevaricate at times,
her temperament, which was too straightforward to allow the veils
of deception to cling, would give her away.
Their confusion did not last long, for in a few minutes they saw
Yasin heading toward them. From the way he looked up at them,
they imagined he did not realize what problems lay in store for him
in the house, although even they did not know the extent of the
trouble. Fahmy was not surprised, for he knew that Yasin paid little
attention to problems other people found oppressive.
Yasin was overwhelmed by the breathtaking sensation of having
emerged triumphant from an adventure that had caused him to forget
most of his problems, if only temporarily. He had been on his way
to the house when a soldier, apparently popping up from nowhere,
had blocked his way. Yasin had trembled all over, expecting unprecedented
evil or at least a distressing insult that would be observed by
the shop owners and passersby. He had not hesitated to defend himself,
addressing the soldier gently and ingratiatingly, as though asking
permission to pass: "Please, sir."
The soldier had asked for a match and smiled. Yes, he had smiled.
Yasin had been so astonished to see him smile that he had encountered
difficulty understanding what he wanted until the soldier re
PALACE WALK
peated his request. He had never imagined that an English soldier
would smile that way. Even if English soldiers smiled like other human
beings, he would not have thought one would smile at him so
politely. He had been transported by delight and remained frozen for
a few moments, neither offering an answer nor making a motion.
Then with all the energy he could muster, he had tackled this simple
assignment for the mighty, smiling soldier. Since he did not smoke
and did not carry any matches, he had gone at once to al-Hajj Darwish,
who sold beans, and purchased a box of" matches. Then he had
rushed back to the soldier, holding it out to him. The soldier had
taken it and said, in English, "Thank you."
Yasin had not yet recovered from the impact of that magical smile.
Now here was "thank you." It was like a glass of beer a person
drinks to refresh himself when he has had enough whiskey. It filled
Yasin with gratitude and pride. His pudgy face blushed and beamed
as though the words "thank you" were a high decoration with which
he had been publicly invested. It practically guaranteed that he would
be able to go and come as he pleased in perfect safety. As soon as
the soldier gave the first sign of moving away, Yasin told him in a
friendly manner that came straight from his heart, "Good luck, sir."
Yasin proceeded to the house almost reeling with joy. What good
luck he had had.... An Englishman--not an Australian or an
Indian--had smiled at him and thanked him.... An Englishman--in
other words, the kind of man he imagined to embody all the perfections
of the human race. Yasin probably detested the English as all
Egyptians did, but deep inside he respected and venerated them so
much that he frequently imagined they were made from a different
stuff than the rest of mankind. This man had smiled at him and
thanked him.... Yasin had answered him correctly, imitating English
pronunciation so far as his mouth would allow. He had succeeded
splendidly and had merited the man's thanks.
How could he believe the brutal acts attributed to them? Why had
they exiled Sa'd Zaghlul if they were so gracious? His enthusiasm
faded the moment his eyes fell on Mrs. Amina and Fahmy. From
their expressions he could grasp that something was wrong. His worries,
from which he had been temporarily severed, wound round him
like a rope. He realized that he was confronted once more by the
problem from which he had fled early that morning. Pointing upstairs,
he asked, "Why isn't she sitting with you? Is she still angry?"
Amina exchanged a glance with Fahmy. Then she muttered nerVously,
"She's gone to her father."
Naguib Mahfou
He raised his eyebrows in astonishment or alarm. Then he asked
her, "Why did you let her go?"
Amina replied with a sigh, "She slipped out without anyone, noticing."
:i
He felt he ought to say something to defend his honor in front of his
brother and stepmother. He declared scornfully, "Whatever she wants."
Fahmy decided to resist his urge to keep silent. He wanted his
brother to think he knew nothing about his secret and also wished to
dispel any suspicion that he had heard it from his mother. He asked
simply, "What caused this misfortune?"
Yasin gave him a searching look. He waved his large hand and
grimaced as if to say, "Nothing's caused any misfortune." Then he
observed, "Girls today no longer have the ability to get along with
people." Looking at Mrs. Amina, he asked, "Where are the ladies of
yesteryear?"
Amina bowed her head, apparently from embarrassment but ac
tually
to hide a smile that got the better of her when her mind tried
to reconcile the image of Yasin now--contemplative, hortatory, and
victimized--with the Yasin of the previous evening when he had
been caught on the roof. All the same, Yasin's discomfort was far
greater than the circumstances allowed him to admit. Despite the
oppressive disappointment he had sustained in his married life, he
had never thought for a moment of terminating it. He found in mar
riage
a secure haven and refuge, not to mention the promise of im
minent
fatherhood, which he welcomed enthusiastically. He had
always hoped to have his marriage waiting for him when he returned
from his various sorties like an explorer returning to his homeland at
the end of the year. He was not oblivious to the new conflict between
him and his father as well as Mr. Iffat that would result from his
wife's departure. All of this would be further clouded by the scandal.
Its odor would be diffused until it stopped up everyone's nostrils....
The bitch[ He had been fully determined to bring her around gradu
ally
to confessing that her error was more serious than his. Indeed,
he may even have been so convinced that he felt it 'would certainly
happen. He had sworn to make her apologize and to discipline her,
but she had departed. She had turned his plans upside down and left
him in an extremely awkward crisis. The bitch!
He was wrenched from his stream of thoughts by a scream that
rent the silence enveloping the house. He turned toward Fahmy and
his stepmother. He found they were trying hard to listen, looking
PALACE WALK
concerned and anxious. The screaming continued, and they easily
ascertained that it came from a woman. Their eyes showed that they
were wondering what direction it came from and what the cause was.
Was it announcing a death or a fight or calling for help? Amina began
to ask Gd's protection against all evils.
Then Fahmy said, "It's near... perhaps on our street." He rose
suddenly, furrowing his brow, and asked, "Could it be that the English
have attacked a woman who walked past them?"
He rushed to the balcony with the others trailing behind. The
screaming stopped, leaving no indication of the direction from which
it had come. The three of them looked through the peephole in the
latticework to search the street. Their eyes came to rest on a woman
who attracted attention by the strange way she was standing in the
center of the street and by the c!rcle of passersby and storekeepers
gathered around her. They recognized her immediately and cried out
together, "Umm Hanafi!..."
Amina had sent the servant to get Kamal from school. She asked,
"Why don't I see Kamal with her? What's making her stand there
like a statue?"
"Kamal.... My Lord... where's Kamal?"
Flelying on her intuition, the mother said, "She's the one who
screamed. I recognize her voice now.... Where's Kamal? Save
me.... "
Neither Fahmy nor Yasin uttered a word. They were busy searching
the roadway in general and the English camp in particular for
Kamal. They saw people looking toward the soldiers, most notably
Umm Hanafi. They were certain that it was Umm Hanafi who had
screamed and thus gathered the people around her. They felt instinctively
that she was calling for help because some danger was threatening
Kamal. Their fears centered on the English. But what was the
danger? Where was Kamal? What had happened to the boy?
The mother kept appealing for help. They did not know how to
comfort her and probably needed some reassuring themselves....
Where was Kamal? Some of the soldiers were sitting down, others
stood or walked along minding their own business. Each was preoco
cupied with his own activities, as though nothing had happened, as
though there was no crowd of" people gathered in the street.
Suddenly Yasin punched Fahmy's shoulder and yelled, "Don't you
see those soldiers standing in a circle under the cistern building on
our street? Kamal's standing in the middle.... Look."
Naguib Mahfou
The mother could not keep herself from screaming, "The soldiers
have Kamal.... There he is, O my Lord... Lord... save me."
Four giant soldiers had linked arms to form a circle. Fahmy's eyes
had searched in that direction more than once without discovering
Kamal. This time he noticed the boy in the center of the circle, visible
through an opening between the legs of a soldier who was standing
with his back to them. The family imagined the soldiers were going
to kick him back and forth like a ball until they did him in.
Fahmy's fear for his brother made him forget his own safety.
He turned around and said excitedly, "I'm going to him, no matter
what."
Yasin's hand grabbed his shoulder. Yasin told Fahmy decisively,
"Stop." Then with a calm, cheerful voice he told the mother, "Don't
be afraid. If they had wanted to harm him, they would not have
hesitated.... Look. He seems to be involved in a long conversation.
And what about this red thing in his hand? I wager it's a piece of
chocolate.... Calm yourself. They're just having some fun with
him." He sighed and continued: "He's frightened us for no reason at
all."
Yasin regained his composure. He still remembered his happy adventure
with the soldier. He did not think it too unlikely that some
of the man's fellow soldiers were as gracious and gentle as he was.
Then he thought he would shore up and corroborate what he had
said for the sake of the mother's agonized heart. He pointed to Umm
Hanafi, who had not moved, and observed, "Don't you see that Umm
Hanafi kept screaming until she realized there was no need for it?
The people around her are beginning to move away. They seem
reassured."
The mother murmured in a shaky voice, "My heart won't be reassured
until he comes to me."
They focused their attention on the boy or what they could see of
him from time to time. The soldiers unlinked their arms and relaxed
their legs as though they were confident that Kamal would not run
away. Now Kamal could be seen in his entirety. He was smiling, and
they could tell from the movement of his lips and from the gestures
of his hands, which he used to get a point across, that he was talking.
The fact that he and the soldiers seemed to understand each other
indicated that they could use the Cairo dialect of Arabic to some
extent. But what was he telling them and what were they saying to
him? None of them could guess that, but they calmed down. Even
the mother in her anxious astonishment was finally able to watch
PALACE WALK
silently, without any wail or call for help, the strange scene unfolding
before her eyes.
Yasin laughed and said, "It's clear we were far too pessimistic
when we assumed that the occupation of our district by these soldiers
would create endless problems for us."
Although Fahmy appeared to be grateful that the soldiers were
treating Kamal correctly, he did not appreciate Yasin's remark. Without
turning his eyes away from the boy, he commented, "The way
they treat men and women may differ from their treatment of children.
Don't get too optimistic."
Yasin almost burst out with an account of his happy adventure, but he stopped himself in time for fear of enraging his brother. To
be polite and ingratiating he said, "May our Lord free us safely from
them."
Amina asked impatiently, "Isn't it time for them to let him go, with
our thanks?"
It appeared that the circle of men around Kamai were expecting
something else to happen. One of the four had gone off to a nearby
tent to fetch a wooden chair, which he placed in front of Kamal. The
boy immediately jumped on the chair. He stood there erect, with his
arms hanging down straight at his sides, as though reviewing a formation
of soldiers from an elite guard. His fez had slipped down over
the back of his head, probably without his noticing it, to reveal his
large, protruding forehead. What was he doing? Why was he standing
like that? They did not have long to wonder, for his clear voice
soon rang out with this song:
] want to go ]ome,
Darhhg.
r/ey 're taken my boy,
Darling.
He sang it all the way through in his pleasing voice while the
soldiers Watched, their mouths open and smiling. They clapped their
hands in appreciation at the end of each phrase. One of them was
touched when he understood part of the meaning of the song and
began to shout, "I'm going home I'm going home."
Karnal was encouraged by the enthusiastic response of his audi
ence.
He sang his very best, taking special care with his vibrato and
projection. He finished the song to applause and praise, in which his
family at the peephole participated, after singing along with him in
oo
Naguib MoAfoug
their hearts, filled with joy and apprehension. Yes, the family pattie.
ipated in praising him after sharing vicariously in the singing, whiei
they had followed anxiously, praying that he would excel and no
make any mistakes. They might almost have been singing throug
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