The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
He was amazed by this shift in the course of the conversation. It appeared ludicrous to him, but he did not laugh. If anything, he was even angrier and said, “What bearing do my father and his wife have- on this matter? Don't try to evade responsibility for your actions by throwing accusations in the faces of innocent people.”
She protested in a voice like a groan, “I've never seen a son crueler than you…. Is this what you have to tell me after a separation of eleven years?”
He waved his hand in angry rejection and said sharply and furiously, “A sinful mother is likely to give birth to a cruel son.”
“I'm no sinner…. I'm not a sinner. But you are as cruel and hard-hearted as your father.”
He snorted with vexation and shouted, “We're back to my father! We have enough to discuss without him. Fear God and retreat from this new scandal… I wish to prevent this scandal at any price.”
Her despair and sorrow were so intense that her voice sounded cold when she said, “How does it concern you?”
Astonished, he yelled back, “My mother's scandal shouldn't concern me?”
She replied with a sorrow blended with a slight amount of sarcasm, “You have the right to stop thinking of me as your mother.'
“Wha: do you mean?”
Ignoring his question, she muttered, “Since you have no feelings for me anymore, the best thing is for you to leave me and my concerns alone.”
Fie shouted angrily, “What's already happened is all I can bear. I will not permit you to soil my reputation again.”
Swallowing bitterly, she replied, “With God as my witness, there's nothing about it that will soil anyone's reputation.”
He asked her disapprovingly, “Are you determined to go through with this marriage?”
She was silent for a time. Her head was bowed sadly and she was sunk in despair. A deep sigh escaped her. Then she said in a scarcely audible voice, “The matter's settled. The marriage contract has been drawn up. I'm no longer in a position to stop it.”
Yasin jumped to his feet. His corpulent body was rigid and his face pale. Boiling with anger, he stared at her bowed head. Then he roared at her. “What a woman you are…. You criminal!”
She mumbled in a choked voice revealing her total surrender, “May God forgive you.”
At that moment it occurred to him to blast her with what he knew about her past conduct, things she assumed he did not know, like the sinister story of the fruit seller. It would be a bomb he could drop on her head suddenly and blow her to bits, exacting the most hideous revenge. There was a terrifying flash from his eyes, flying out from beneath a frowning, gloomy brow with furrows that seemed threatening suggestions of forthcoming evil. He opened his mouth to drop his bombshell, but his tongue would not move. It stuck to the roof of his mouth as though forced there by his brain, which had not been blinded by his suffering to the calamity that would result. The dreadful instant passed with the speed of a fleeting earthquake during which a person feels death breathing on his face repeatedly for a few moments before everything returns to normal. He groaned but suppressed his anger. He backed down, without regrets. His forehead was dripping with cold sweat. Later, when he remembered various moments of this strange meeting, he recalled how he had acted then and felt relieved that he had held back, even though he was totally amazed by his restraint. What most surprised him was his feeling that he held back out of compassion for himself, not for her. Although he already knew what he would have revealed, he seemed to have been shielding his own honor rather than hers.
He blew off steam by striking his hands together and saying, “Criminal!… Scandal incarnate!… How I'll laugh at my foolishness every time I remember that I hoped something good might come from this visit…”. Then he continued sarcastically: “I'm amazed you can desire my affection after this.”
She was distraught and sad. He heard her say, “My soul made me hope we could live together with love, in spite of everything. Your surprise visit inspired warm hopes in my heart that made me imagine I could give you the most exalted form of love my heart possesses… unblemished.”
He backed away from her, as though fleeing from the tenderness of her words. Nothing could have excited his anger more than that. Filled with anger and despair, he sensed there was no longer anything to be gained from staying on in this hateful atmosphere. Turning around to make his way out, he said, “I wish I could kill you.”
She lowered her eyes and said with unconcealed sorrow, “If you do, you'll relieve me of the sufferings of my life.”
His anguish reached its peak. He threw her a final look filled with loathing. As He left the place, the floor of the room shook with his footsteps. When he reached the street and began to come to his senses, he remembered for the first time that he had forgotten to discuss the real estate and property. He had not mentioned so much as a word about it. How had he forgotten when it was the main reason for his visit?
19
MRS. AMI NA opened the door and stuck her head in, saying with her customary tenderness, “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”
She heard Fahmy's voice reply, “Come here, Mother. It will only take five minutes.”
The woman entered, happy to comply with his request. She found him standing in front of his desk with a serious and concerned expression on his face. He took her hand and led her to a sofa near the door. He seated her and then sat down beside her, asking, “Is everyone asleep?”
The woman realized that she had not been invited to perform some trivial favor; otherwise what need was there for such care or this interest in privacy? His concern was quickly transmitted to her sensitive soul. She answered, “Khadija and Aisha went to their room at their usual time and I just left Kamal in his bed now.”
Fahmy had been waiting for this moment since he retired to the study early in the evening. He had not been able to concentrate his attention on the book before him as usual. Off and on he had been following the conversation between his mother and his sisters, worried that they would never stop talking. Then he had listened to his mother and Kamal memorize a section of the seventy-eighth sura of the Qur'an, beginning: “Concerning what are they disputing?” Finally the house had become quiet and his mother had come to say good night. He had invited her to come in, and the tension of waiting had ended for him.
Although his mother was gentle as a dove and he felt no reserve or fear with her, he found it difficult to express what he wanted to say. He was overcome by a shy embarrassment. A long period of silence passed before, twitching his eyelids, he said, “Mother, I've invited you to advise me on a topic of great concern to me.”
The woman's anxiety became so intense that her tender heart almost transformed it into fear. She replied, “I'm listening, son.”
He breathed deeply to relieve his nerves and said, “What would you think if… I mean, isn't it possible that…” He came to a hesitant stop. Then he changed his tone and said delicately but anxiously, “I have no one to confide my innermost feelings to except for you
“Of course, my son, that's only natural.”
Taking courage from this, he said, “What would you think about trying to arrange an engagement between me and Maryam, the daughter of our neighbor al-Sayyid Muhammad Ridwan?”
At first Amina was astonished by his suggestion. Her initial response was a smile revealing more anxiety than joy. Then the fear that had gripped her while she was waiting for him to declare what he had in mind dispersed. Her smile broadened and shone, announcing her unqualified delight. She hesitated for some moments, not knowing what to say, then she burst out: “Is this really what you want? … I'll give you my frank opinion…. The day I go to arrange an engagement for you with a decent girl will be the happiest day of my life.”
The youth blushed and said gratefully, “Thank you, Mother.”
His mother gazed at him with a tender smile and remarked wistfully, “What a happy day! I've had to work hard and be patient many times. It's not too much to ask that God
Her mind wandered off in happy dreams until something occurred to her that suddenly roused her. She drew her head back am iously like a cat that sees a dog approaching. She muttered sympathetically, “But… your father?”
Fahmy smiled angrily and replied, “That's why I'm asking for your advice….”
The woman thought a little. Then she said, as though to herself, “I don't know how he'll react to this request. Your father's a strange man, different from anyone else. What others take for granted, he considers a crime.”
Fahmy frowned and said, “There's nothing in the affair to warrant anger or opposition.”
“That's what I think.”
“tt goes without saying that the marriage won't take place until I have completed my studies and found myself a job.”
“Of course, of course.”
“So what could anyone object to, then?”
She gave him a look that seemed to say, “Who's going to remonstrate with your father if he doesn't care to listen to reason?” After all, her known stance toward him was blind obedience, whether he was right or wrong, just or tyrannical. What she said, however, was: “I hope your request will be blessed by acceptance.”
The young man responded enthusiastically, “My father married when he was my age, and I don't even intend to do that. I'm planning to wait till my marriage seems so normal there will be no objection to it from any quarter
“May our Lord grant our request.”
They were still for a time, looking at each other, united by a single thought, knowing instinctively that they understood each other perfectly. It was not hard for them to read each other's thoughts. Then Fahmy expressed what was preoccupying both of them: “Now we need to think about who ought to raise the topic with him….”
The woman smiled, but anxiety had robbed her smile of its spirit. She realized that her resourceful son was reminding her of a duty only she could perform. She did not object to doing it, since there was no alternative, but she accepted the task reluctantly, as she did many others. She asked God that it would end well. She remarked tenderly and affectionately, “Who should bring it up but me? … May our Lord be with us.”
“I'm sorry…. If I could, I'd do it myself.”
“I'll talk to him, and it will be successful, God willing. Maryam's a pretty girl, polite and from a fine family.”
She was silent for a moment. Then, as though it had only just occurred to her, she asked, to clarify something, “But isn't she your age or even older?”
The youth replied uneasily, “That doesn't matter to me at all!”
Smiling, she replied, “With God's blessing; may our Lord be with us”. Then, as she stood up, she added, “I leave you now in the Master's care. Until tomorrow”. She leaned toward him and kissed him, then she left the room, closing the door behind her. She was astonished to find Kamal sitting on a sofa, bent over a notebook. She shouted at him, “What are you doing here?”
Smiling in embarrassment, he rose and replied, “I remembered that I'd left my English notebook. So I came to get it. Then I thought I'd review the words one more time.”
Once again she went with him to the bedroom. She did not leave him until he was stretched out under the cover, but he did not fall asleep. The lively thoughts racing through his mind defeated sleep. As soon as he heard his mother's footsteps going upstairs to the top floor, he leapt out of bed. Then he opened the door and ran to his sisters' room. He shoved the door open and went in without shutting it, so the lamp in the hall could illumine some of the darkness blanketing the room. He rushed to the bed and whispered, “Khadija!”
Astonished, the young woman sat up in bed. He jumped up beside her, so excited he was breathless. As though not satisfied with entrusting the secret that had kept him from falling asleep to only one listener, he put his hand on Aisha and shook her. The girl had already noticed his arrival. She threw back the cover and raised her head, half out of curiosity and half in protest. She asked, “What brings you now?”
He paid no attention to her tone of protest, because he was certa in that a single word hinting at his secret would be enough to turn ttiem head over heels. Hisheart jumped with delight and joy at this thought. Then he whispered, as though he was afraid someone- else would hear him, “I've got an amazing secret.”
Khadija asked him, “What secret? … Tell us what you've got and show us how clever you are.”
He cc uld not conceal it any longer. He replied, “My brother Fab my v/ants to get engaged to Mary am.”
At that, Aisha sat up in bed too, with a quick, mechanical motion, as though the revelation was cold water splashed on her face and teeth. The three shadows moved close together in a mound resembling a pyramid in the faint light penetrating the room, which was reflected on the floor near the open door as a trapezoidal panel. Its edges fluctuated with the oscillations of the lamp's wick, which had been exposed to a draft when the door was left open. The breeze reached the hall in gentle whispers, flowing surreptitiously from the small openings of the girls' window.
Khadija asked with great interest, “How do you know that?”
“I got out of bed to fetch my English notebook. When I reached the door of the study I heard my brother's voice. So I stayed there on the sofa”. Then he repeated what he had overheard. They listened to him, spellbound, until he finished. At that point Aisha asked, as though she needed further convincing, “Do you believe this, Khadija?”
In a voice that sounded as though she was speaking by telephone from a distant city, her sister replied, “Do you imagine he's invented a long, complicated story like this?”
“You're right”. Aisha laughed to relieve her tension and continued: “There's a big difference between the death of the boy in the street and this story.”
Paying no attention to Kamal's objection to the insinuation directed at him, Khadija asked, “How do you suppose this came about?”
Aisha laughed and observed, “Didn't I tell you once I doubted it was the hyacinth beans that enticed Fahmy to the roof every day?”
“It's another kind of fragrant vine that's wound itself around his leg.”
Aisha sang softly: “You're not to be blamed, my eyes, for loving him.”
Khadija chided her: “Hush … this isn't the time for singing…. Maryam's in her twenties and Fahmy's eighteen. How can Mother agree to that?”
“Mother? … Mother's a gentle dove and wouldn't know how to say no. But wait a minute; it's only fair to say that Maryam's beautiful and a fine girl…. Moreover, our house is the only one in the neighborhood that hasn't had a wedding yet….”
Both Khadija and Aisha loved Mary am, but love had never been able to hide a loved one's defects from Khadija's eyes, regardless of the circumstances, and when provoked she would not limit herself to criticizing defects. Since the marriage saga stirred her latent fears and jealousy, she turned on her friend without any qualms. Her heart refused to accept her as a wife for her brother. She proceeded to say, “Are you crazy? … Maryam's pretty, but she's not nearly good enough for Fahmy. You donkey, Fahmy's getting an advanced degree. He'll be a judge someday. Can you imagine Maryam as the wife of a high-ranking judge? She's like us in most respects. Indeed, in more than one respect she's not as good as we are, and neither of us is ever going to marry a judge.”
Aisha asked herself, “Who says ajudge is better than an officer?” Then she said to her sister argumentatively, “Why not?”
Without paying attention to her sister's protest, Khadija continued: “Fahmy will be able to marry a girl a hundred times more beautifuJ than Maryam and at the same time one who's educated, rich, anc the daughter of a bey or even a pasha. So why should he be in a liurry to get engaged to Maryam? She's nothing but an illiterate with a sharp tongue. You don't know her as well as I do.”
Aisha perceived that in Khad
Khadija replied with conviction, “The matter is in God's hands in heaven and in Daddy'shere on earth. We'll find out what he thinks about it tomorrow”. Then she told Kamal, “It's time for you to go quietly to your bed.”
Kamal returned to his room, telling himself, “That only leaves Yasin, and I'll tell him tomorrow.”
20
KHADIJA AND AISHA were sitting beside the closed door of their parents' room on the top floor. They were facing each other with their legs crossed beneath them, warily trying not to breathe too loud as they strained with great interest to hear what was being said inside. It was shortly before the afternoon prayer, and their father had risen from his siesta and performed his ablutions. As usual, he was sitting drinking his coffee while he waited for the call to prayer. He would pray and then return to the store. The sisters expected their mother to broach the subject Kamal had told them about, since there would be no more suitable time for this purpose. Their father's loud voice carried to them from inside, discussing ordinary household matters. They listened apprehensively and attentively, exchanging questioning glances, until finally they heard their mother say in an exceptionally polite and submissive way, “Sir, if you will allow me, I'll tell you something Fahmy requested me to bring to your attention.”
At that, Aisha gestured with her chin toward the room as though saying, “Here it comes”. Meanwhile Khadija was imagining her mother's condition as she prepared to utter the dangerous words. Her heart went out to her and she bit her lip in her intense sympathy.