The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
He rose and approached, saying, “I won't deprive you of anything you want”. He sat down beside her. She started to hit him but hesitated and then stopped. He asked her anxiously, “Why don't you honor me with a beating?”
She shook her head and replied scornfully, “I'm afraid I would have to repeat my ritual ablutions.”
He asked longingly, “May I hope we can pray together?” He privately asked God's forgiveness as soon as he had made this joke. Although there were no limits to his impudence when he was intoxicated by his sense of humor, hisheart was always troubled and uneasy until he secretly and sincerely asked God's forgiveness for the humorous excesses of his tongue.
The woman asked with ironic coquetry, “Do you mean, reverend sir, the kind of prayer the muezzin says is better than sleep?”
“No, prayer which is a form of sleep.”
She could not keep herself from saying with a laugh, “What a man you are! On the outside you are dignified and pious, but inside you're licentious and debauched. Now I really believe what I was told about you.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad sat up with interest and asked, “What were you told?… May God spare us the evil of what people say.”
“They told me you're a womanizer and a heavy drinker.”
He sighed audibly in relief and commented, “I thought it would be criticism of some fault, thank God.”
“Didn't I tell you you're a crafty sinner?”
“Here's the evidence, then, that I've won your acceptance, God willing.”
The woman raised her head haughtily and replied, “Keep your distance…. I'm not like the women you've had. Zubayda is known, if I do say so myself, for her self-respect and good taste.”
The man raised his hands to his chest and looked at her in a way both challenging and gentle. He remarked calmly, “It's when a man is tested that he's honored or despised.”
“How come you're so cocky when, according to you, you haven't even been circumcised yet?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad laughed loudly for a long time. Then he said, “You don't believe me, you circumciser. Well, if you're in doubt…”
She punched him in the shoulder before he could finish his sentence. He stopped talking, and then they burst out laughing together. He was happy she laughed along with him. He surmised that, given both the veiled and open remarks that had passed between them, her laughter constituted an announcement of her consent. The flirtatious smile, visible in her eyes with their shadow of kohl, served to confirm this idea in his mind. He thought he would greet this flirtation in kind, but she cautioned him, “Don't make me think even worse of you.”
Her statement reminded him of her reference to things she had heard. He asked her with interest, “Who's been talking to you about me?”
She replied tersely, giving him an accusing look, “Jalila.”
This name took him by surprise. It was like a critic interrupting their tete-a-tete. He smiled in a way that showed he was uncomfortable. Jalila was the famous performer he had loved for such a long time, until they separated after the fire had died in their romance. They continued to like each other but had gone their separate ways. Relying on his experience with women, he thought he had better say, as though he really meant it, “God curse her face and voice!” Then, trying to avoid this topic, he continued: “Let's skip all this and talk seriously.”
She asked sarcastically, “Doesn't Jalila deserve a gentler and more gracious comment? Or are you always like this when you talk about a woman you've dumped?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad felt a little uneasy, but he was awash with the sexual conceit aroused in him when a new lover discussed one of his former girlfriends. He enjoyed the sweet intoxication of triumph for some time. Then he remarked with his customary suavity, “In the presence of beauty like yours, I'm unable to put it aside for memories that are buried and forgotten.”
Although the sultana retained her ironic look, she responded to the praise by raising her eyebrows and concealing a faint smile that had stolen across her lips. All the same, she addressed him scornfully: “A merchant is generous with his sweet talk until he gets what he wants.”
“We merchants deserve to go to paradise because people are so unfair to us.”
She shrugged her shoulders with disdain and then asked him with unconcealed interest, “When were you seeing each other?”
He waved his arm as if to say, “What a long time ago!” Then he muttered, “Ages and ages ago.”
She laughed mockingly and said in a tone of revenge, “In the days of your youth, which have passed.”
He looked at her reproachfully and said, “I wish I could suck the venom from your tongue.”
She continued with what she was saying in the same tone: “She took you in when your flesh was firm and left you nothing but bones.”
He gestured with his forefinger to caution her, saying, “I'm one of those hardy men who get married in their sixties.”
“Mot: vated by passion or senility?”
He roared with laughter and said, “Lady, fear God. Let's have a serious talk.”
“Serious? … You mean about the evening's entertainment you came to arrange?”
“I see
“A whole lifetime or just half?”
“May our Lord grant us what is good for us. …”
“May our Lord grant us what is pleasant.”
He se::retly requested God's forgiveness in advance before he asked, “Shall we recite the opening prayer of the Qur'an?”
She jumped up suddenly, ignoring his invitation, and cried out in alarm, “My Lord… it's later than I thought. I have an important engagement tonight.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad rose too. He stretched out his hand to take hers. He spread open her palm tinted with henna and looked at it with desire and fascination. He kept on holding it even after she tried repeatedly to withdraw it. Finally she pinched his finger and raised her hand to his mustache. She shouted menacingly to him, “Let go of me or you'll leave my house with only half a mustache.”
He saw that her forearm was near his mouth. He abandoned the dispute and slowly brought his lips to her arm until they sank into its soft flesh. A delicious fragrance of carnations wafted from her. He sighed and murmured, “Till tomorrow?”
She escaped from his hand without any resistance this time. She gave him a lengthy look. Then she smiled and recited softly:
My sparrow, Mother, my little bird, I'll play and show him what I have learned.
She repeated these lines several times as she saw him out. Al-Sayyid Ahmad left the room singing the opening of this song in a low voice both dignified and sedate. He seemed to be examining the words for their hidden meaning.
16
IN THE home of the singer Zubayda there was a room like a hall in the middle of her residence that was dubbed the recital chamber. Actually it was a hall for which new uses had been found. Perhaps the most important of these for her and her troupe was rehearsing their songs and learning new material. It had been chosen because it was far from the public street and separated from it by bedrooms and reception chambers. Its size also made it a suitable location for her private parties, which usually were either exorcisms or recitals to which she would invite her special friends and close acquaintances. The motive for hosting these parties was not simply generosity, for any generosity manifested was almost always that of the guests themselves. The aim was to increase the number of fine friends able to invite her to perform at their parties or to help promote her by praising her in the circles where they were received. It was also from these men that she selected lover after lover.
Now it was al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad's turn to honor the festive hall, accompanied by some of his most distinguished acquaintances. He had displayed boundless energy folio wing the daring meeting that had taken place between them at her house. His messengers had immediately taken her a generous gift of candied nuts and dried fruit, sweets and other presents, in addition to a stove he commissi
The chamber was remarkable for its attractive, Egyptian look. A row of comfortable sofas with brocade upholstery, suggesting both luxury and dissipation, stretched out on either side of the sultana's divan, which was flanked by mattresses and cushions for her troupe. The long expanse of floor was covered with carpets of many different colors and types. On a table suspended from the right wall, halfway along it, candles were arranged in candelabra where they looked as lovely and intense as a beauty mark on a cheek. There was a huge lamp hanging from the peak of a skylight in the center of the ceiling. The skylight's windows looked out on the roof terrace and were left open on warm evenings, but closed when it was cold.
Zubayda sat cross-legged on the divan. At her right was Zanuba, the lute player, her foster daughter. On her left was Abduh, the blind performer on the zitherlike qanun. The women of the troupe sat on both sides, some clasping tambourines, others stroking their conical drums or playing with finger cymbals. The sultana had selected for al-Sayyid Ahmad the first seat on the right. The other men, his friends, found places for themsehes without any hesitation, as though they lived there. This was not odd since there was nothing novel about the situation for them and it was not the first time they had seen the sultana. Al-Sayyid Ahmad presented his friends to the performer, beginning with al-Sayyid Ali, the flour merchant.
Zubayda laughed and said, “Al-Sayyid Ali is no stranger to me. I performed at his daughter's wedding last year.”
Then he turned to the copper merchant. One of the men accused him of being a fan of the vocalist Bamba Kashar, and the merchant quickly remarked, “Lady, I've come to repent.”
The introductions continued until everyone was presented. Then Jaljal, the maid, brought in glasses of wine and served the guests. The men started to feel a vitality mixed with liberality and mirth. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was undeniably the bridegroom of the party. His friends called him that and he felt it too, deep inside. At first he bad been a little uncomfortable in a way rare for him but had cone ealed his discomfort with an extra amount of laughter and mirth. Once he began drinking, the embarrassment left him spontaneously and his composure returned. He threw himself wholeheartedly into the excitement.
Whenever he felt a surge of desire - and desires are aroused at musical entertainmentshe would gaze greedily at the sultana of the soiree. His eyes would linger on the folds of her massive body. He felt good about the blessing fortune had bestowed on him. He congratulated himself on the sweet delightshe could look forward to that night and following ones.
”It's when a man is tested that he's honored or despised.' I challenged her with this declaration. I've got to live up to my word. I wonder what she's like as a woman and how far she'll go? I'll discover the truth at a suitable time. In any case, I'll play by her rules. To ensure a victory over an opponent, you must assume she's vigilant and strong. I won't deviate from my long-standing practice of making my own pleasure a secondary objective after hers, which is the real goal and climax. In that way my pleasure will be achieved in the most perfect fashion.”
Despite his great number of amorous adventures, out of all the different varieties of love, al-Sayyid Ahmad had experienced only lust. All the same, he had progressed in his pursuit of it to its purest and most delicate form. He was not simply an animal. In addition to his sensuality, he was endowed with a delicacy of feeling, a sensitivity of emotion, and an ingrained love for song and music. He had elevated lust to its most exalted type. It was for the sake of this lust alone that he had married the first time and then for the second. Over the course of time, his conjugal love was affected by calm new elements of affection and familiarity, but in essence it continued to be based on bodily desire. When an emotion is of this type, especially when it has acquired a renewed power and exuberant vitality, it cannot be content with only one form of expression. Thushe had shot off in pursuit of all the varieties of love and passion, like a wild bull. Whenever desire called, he answered, deliriously and enthusiastically. No woman was anything more than a body to him. All the same, he would not bow hishead before that body unlesshe found it truly worthy of being seen, touched, smelled, tasted, and heard. It was lust, yes, but not bestial or blind. It had been refined by a craft that was at least partially an art, setting his lust in a framework of delight, humor, and good cheer. Nothing was so like his lust as his body, since both were huge and powerful, qualities that bring to mind roughness and savagery. Yet both concealed within them grace, delicacy, and affection, even though he might intentionally cloak those characteristics at times with sternness and severity. While he was devouring the sultana with his glanceshe did not limit his active imagination to having sex with her. It also wandered through various dreams of amusing pastimes and tuneful celebrations.
Zubayda felt the warmth of his gaze. Glancing around at the faces of the guests vainly and coquettishly, she told him, “Bridegroom, control yourself. Aren't you embarrassed in front of your associates?”
“There's no point trying to be chaste in the presence of such a prodigious and voluptuous body.”
The songstress released a resounding laugh. Then with great delight she asked the men, “What do you think of your friend?”
They all replied in one breath, “He's excused!”
At this the blind qanun player shook hishead to the right and left, his lower lip hanging open. He muttered, “He's excused who gives a warning.”
Although the man's proverb was well received, the lady turned on him in mock anger and punched him in the chest, yelling, “You hush and shut your big mouth.”
The blind man accepted the blow laughingly. He opened his mouth as though to speak but closed it again to be safe. The woman: urned her head toward al-Sayyid Ahmad and told him threateningly, “This is what happens to people who get out of line.”
Pretending to be alarmed, he replied, “But I came to learn how to get out of line.”
The woman struck her chest with her hand and shouted, “What cheek!… Did you all hear what he said?”
More than one of them said at the same time, “It's the best thing we've heard so far.”
One of the group added, “You ought to hit him if he doesn't get out of line.”
Someone else suggested, “You ought to obey him so long as he stays out of line.”
The woman raised her eyebrows to show an astonishment she did not feel and asked, “Do you love being naughty this much?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad sighed and said, “May our Lord perpetuate our naughtiness.”
At that the performer picked up a tambourine and said, “Here's something better for you to listen to.”
She stmck the tambourine in a rather nonchalant way, but the sound rose above the babbling commotion like an alarm and silenced it. The noise of her tambourine teased their ears. Everyone gradually dropped what he was doing. The members of the troupe got ready to play while the gentlemen drained their glasses.
Then they gazed at the sultana. The room was so silent it almost declared their eagerness to enjoy the music.
The maestra gestured to her troupe and they burst out playing an overture by the composer Muhammad Uthman. Heads started to sway with the music. Al-Sayyid Ahmad surrendered himself to the resonant sound of the qanun, which set hisheart on fire. Echoes of many different melodies from a long era filled with nights of musical ecstasy burst into flame within him, as though small drops of gasoline had fallen on a hidden ember. The qanun certainly was his favorite instrument, not only because of the virtuosity of a performer like al-Aqqad, but because of something about the very nature of the strings. Although he knew he was not going to hear a famous virtuoso like al-Aqqad or al-Sayyid Abduh, his enthusiastic heart made up for the defects of the performance with its passion.
The moment the troupe finished the five-part overture, the sing
When that piece was finished, al-Sayyid Ahmad expected to hear some instrumental solos and vocal improvisation as usual, but Zubayda capped the ending with one of her resounding laughs to demonstrate her pleasure and amazement. She began to congratulate the new members of the troupe jokingly and asked them what they would like to hear. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was secretly distressed and momentarily depressed, since his passion for singing was intense. Few of those around him noticed anything. Then he realized that Zubayda, like most others of her profession, including the famous Bamba Kashar herself, was not capable of doing solo improvisations. He hoped she would pick a light ditty of the kind sung to the ladies at a wedding party. He would prefer that to having her attempt a virtuoso piece and fail to get it right. He tried to spare his ears the suffering he anticipated by suggesting an easy song suitable for the lady's voice. He asked, “What would you all think of 'My sparrow, Mother'?”
He looked at her suggestively, trying to arouse in her an interest in this ditty with which she had crowned their conversation a few days before in the reception room. A voice from the far end of the hall cried out sarcastically, “It would be better to ask your mother for that one.”
The suggestion was quickly lost in the outburst of guffaws that spoiled bis plan for him. Before he could try again, one group requested “O Muslims, O People of God” and another wanted “Get well, my heart.”
Zubayda was wary about favoring one bunch over the other and announced she would sing for them “I'm an accomplice against myself”. Her announcement was warmly received. Al-Sayyid Ahmad saw no alternative to resigning himself and seeking his pleasure in wine and dreams about his promising chances for the evering. His lips gleamed with a sincere smile that the gang of inebriates cheerfully perceived. He was touched by the woman's desire tc imitate the virtuosi in order to please her knowledgeable listeners, even though her actions were not totally free of the vanity common among singers.