The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
Taken as a whole, their conversation betrayed Khadija's prejudice against Zaynab and the mother's fear of the consequences, although Amina did not divulge everything she felt. That evening she had learned things about herself she had not known before. She had frequently felt disappointed or uneasy with Zaynab but never to the point of hating or disliking her. She had blamed the problem on the girl's pride, whether or not it was justified. Today she was appalled to find Zaynab violating common decency and tradition. In Amina's opinion, Zaynab was arrogating to herself masculine prerogatives. She took exception to this conduct, precisely because she was a woman who had spent her life shut up inside her house, a woman who had paid with her health and well-being for an innocent visit to al-Husayn, the glory of the Prophet's family not to Kishkish Bey. Her silent criticism was mixed with a feeling of bitterness and rage which she seemed to be rationalizing when she observed to herself, “Either that woman is punished too or life has no meaning.”
Thus in one month of living with this new woman, Amina's pure, devout soul was soiled by rancor and resentment after a lifetime of earnestness, discipline, and fatigue during which her heart had known nothing but obedience, forgiveness, and serenity. When she retired to her room, she did not know whether she wished that God would conceal Yasin's crime, as she had stated in front of her children, or whether she hoped that he or, more appropriately, his wife would receive the scolding and punishment she merited. That night nothing in the world seemed to matter to her except preserving the family's traditions from being tampered with and defending them from the attack launched against them. Her moral fervor was keen enough to be cruel. She buried her normal, tender emotions deep inside herself in the name of sincerity, virtue, and religion, as an excuse for ignoring her troubled conscience. A dream may similarly reveal suppressed drives in the name of freedom or some other lofty principle.
Arnina was in this determined state of mind when her husband returned, but the sight of him sent shivers of fright up her spine. She could not bring herself to speak. She listened to what he had to say and answered his questions absentmindedly. Her heart was pounding and she did not know how to express the thought raging through her mind. As the minutes passed and bedtime approached, a nervous desire to talk troubled her. She wished with all tier heart that the reality would reveal itself. If Yasin and his wife returned before the father fell asleep, then al-Sayyid Ahmad would learn firsthand about Yasin's reprehensible deed. The frivolous bride would be confronted by his opinion of her conduct, without the mother having to interfere. That would no doubt grieve her but also relieve her mind.
Anxiously and apprehensively, she listened for a long time for someone to knock on the door. She waited minute after minute until her husband yawned and told her in a relaxed voice, “Put out the lamp.”
With defeat at hand, she found her voice. In a soft but troubled tone, she said as though thinking about it to herself, “It's late, and Yasin and his wife aren't home yet.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad stared at her and asked in amazement, “His wife? … Where did they go?”
The woman swallowed. She was afflicted by fear not only of her husband but of herself as well. She found herself forced to answer, “I heard the maid say they went to Kishkish Bey.”
“Kishkish!”
His voice sounded loud and petulant. Sparks seemed to fly from his eyes inflamed by alcohol. He proceeded to ask her question after question, storming and snarling, until he felt wide awake again. He refused to go to bed until the two reprobates returned. He waited, seething with fury. His anger cast a shadow of terror over hei*. She was as terrified as if she had been the guilty person. She was consumed by regret for what she had said, regret that descended on her immediately after she had revealed her secret. She almost seemed to have spoken in order to regret it. She would have given anything then, no matter how costly, to be able to correct her error. She was merciless and accused herself of being responsible for the evil that would occur. If she really wanted to reform them rather than get revenge, should she not have covered up for them and waited till the next day to point out their error to them? She had intentionally yielded to malice. She had wanted something bad to happen. She had prepared for the young man and his bride a calamity they had never dreamed of and had brought down on herself remorse that was savagely eating away at her tormented heart. Although she was ashamed to mention His name, she prayed to God to be merciful to all of them. Each minute that passed made her feel worse.
She was roused by her husband's voice saying with bitter sarcasm, “Mr. Kishkish has arrived.”
She listened carefully and looked out the open window to the courtyard. She heard grating as the main door was closed. Al-Sayyid Ahmad rose and left the room. She got up mechanically but remained frozen where she stood from cowardice and shame. Her heart pounded wildly until she heard his loud voice tell the newcomers, “Follow me to my room”. She was terribly frightened and slipped away to escape.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad returned to his seat, followed by Yasin and Zaynab. Ignoring Yasin, he gave the girl a penetrating look and said firmly, but not coarsely or rudely, “Listen to me carefully, my little girl. Your father is like a brother to me, or even closer and dearer. You are my daughter just as much as Khadija and Aisha. I would never want to trouble your peace of mind, but there are matters that I cannot be silent about without committing what I consider an unforgivable crime. One of these is for a girl like you to stay out of her house until this hour of the night. Do not imagine that the presence of your husband excuses such perverse behavior, for a husband who demeans his honor to this degree is unfit to steady the person whom he has unfortunately been the first to shove. Since I am certain you are innocent or, rather, that your only offense was complying with his wishes, my hope is that you will assist me in reforming him by refusing to submit to his enticements again.”
The girl was speechless and overwhelmed by astonishment. Although she had enjoyed a measure of freedom in her father's care, she could not work up the courage to argue with this man, not to mention oppose him. After living for a month in his home, her character had been infected with the virus of submission to his will, which terrified everyone in the house. Her conscience protested that her father himself had allowed her to accompany him to the cinema more than once. It was not right for this man to forbid her something that her husband allowed. She was satisfied that she had not done anything wrong or disgraceful. Her conscience told her this and more, but she was unable to speak a single word when faced by his eyes, which demanded obedience and respect, and his large nose, which when hishead was tilted back looked like a revolver aimed at her. Her internal dialogue was concealed behind a faade of polite agreement, just as sound waves seem to hide inside the wireless receiver once it is turned off.
Before she knew what was happening, she heard him ask her, as though continuing his conversation, “Do you have any objection to what I have said?”
She shook her head in the negative and the word “no” was traced on her lips although she did not say it. So he told her, “We've agreed, then. You may retire to your room in peace.”
She left the room with a pale face, and al-Sayyid Ahmad turned toward Yasin, who was looking at the ground. Shaking hishead with great sorrow, he said, “The matter is extremely serious, but what can I do? You're no longer a child. If you were, I'd break your head. But, alas, you're a man and an employee and a husband too, even if you don't abstain from frivolous entertainments on account of your marriage. So what can I do with you? Is this the result of the education I've given you?” Then he continued even more sorrowfully: “What came over you? … Where's your manhood? … Where's your sense of honor? By God, I can scarcely believe what I've heard.”
Yasin did not raise hishead and did not speak. His father assumed that his silence showed he was afraid and felt he had been in error. He did not imagine that his son might be drunk. Yasin's apparent contrition was no consolation to him. The offense seemed too outrageous to be left without so
He said, “Don't you know that I forbid my wife to leave the house even if only to visit al-Husayn? How could you have given in to the temptation to take your wife to a bawdy show and stayed there with her until after midnight? You fool, you're propelling yourself and your wife into the abyss. What demon has hold of you?
Yasin thought it best to seek refuge in silence, for fear his voice or his garrulousness would reveal his intoxication. This strategy seemed especially necessary since his mind, scoffing at his serious situation, insisted on stealing out of the room and shooting off to the far horizons, which to his drunken head appeared to be dancing at times and swaying at others. No matter how much his father's voice terrorized him, it could not silence the tunes the comedians had sung at the theater. They leapt to his mind, in spite of himself, like ghosts appearing to a frightened person at night, and whispered:
I'll sell my clothes for a kiss
From your creamy cheek, you Turkish delight;
You, there, sweet as a tart,
You 're a pudding too or even smoother.
The song would be banished by his fear, only to bounce back.
His father became upset by his silence and shouted angrily, “Speak! Tell me what you think. I'm determined that this incident will not slide by.”
Afraid that silence would prove harmful, Yasin abandoned it fearfully and uneasily. Making a valiant effort to gain control of himself, he said, “Her father treated her somewhat leniently”. Then he added hastily, “But I'll admit I made a mistake.”
Overlooking the last phrase, al-Sayyid Ahmad screamed angrily at him, “She's no longer in her father's house. She must respect the rules of the family to which she now belongs. You're her husband and master. It's up to you to make her see things the way you want. Tell me: Who's responsible for her going with you: you or her?”
Despite his intoxication, Yasin was aware of the trap laid for him, but fear forced him to equivocate. He mumbled, “When she learned of my intention to go out, she begged me to let her go too.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad beat his hands together and said, “What kind of man are you? … The proper reply to her would have been a blow. Only men can ruin women, and not every man is capable of being a guardian for them”. (Qur'an 4:34.)
Then, furious at his son, he said, “You take her to a place where women dance half naked?”
In his imagination Yasin saw once more the scenes his father's appearance at the head of the stairs had spoiled. The tunes rang through hishead again: “I'll sell my clothes…”
Before Yasin knew what was happening the man was threatening him: “This house has rules which you know. Reconcile yourself to respecting them if you wish to remain here.”
47
AISHA TOOK charge of beautifying Khadija for her wedding and accomplished the task with unparalleled zeal and extraordinary skill, as though she felt the adornment of Khadija was in every way the most rewarding accomplishment of her life. Khadija really looked like a bride and prepared herself to move to the bridegroom's house. In keeping with her custom of downplaying the value of services other people performed for her, she claimed that the credit should go to her plumpness more than to anything else. Moreover, her beauty was no longer the focus of her concern, since a man who had happened to see her himself had asked for her hand.
Despite all the manifestations of happiness surrounding her, they were not able to obliterate her pulsing homesickness at the prospect of the impending separation. It was exactly what one would expect of a girl whose heart pounded with love for nothing so much as for her family and house from her parents, whom she adored, to the chickens, hyacinth beans, and jasmine. Not even marriage itself, for which she had longed and yearned so impatiently, was able to diminish the bitterness of parting. Before anyone had asked for her hand she had seemed oblivious to her love and respect for the house. Any minor vexation would suffice to mask her authentic feelings, for love is like health. It is taken lightly when present and cherished when it departs. With her mind put at ease about her future, her heart refused to make the change from one life to another without intense anguish that seemed an attempt to atone for some offense or a stingy reluctance to part with something of value.
Kamal gazed at her silently. He no longer asked, “Will you return?” He had learned that a girl who marries does not return. He murmured to his sisters, “I'll visit both of you frequently in the afternoon when school lets out.”
Although they indicated they would welcome his visits, Kamal was no longer beguiled by false hopes. He had visited Aisha often without ever finding the old Aisha. In her place he found another woman, all decked out, who received him with such exaggerated affection that he felt like a stranger. Even if he was alone with her for a moment, her husband would soon join them. Khalil did not leave the house and amused himself with various pastimes like smoking his cigarettes or water pipe or strumming his lute. Khadija would be no better than Aisha. The only companion he would have left in the house would be Zaynab, and she was not as affectionate to him as she should be, unless his mother was watching. Then she seemed to try to ingratiate herself with Mrs. Amina by being nice to him. Whenever the mother left, Zaynab would ignore him, as though he were invisible.
Although Zaynab did not feel she would be losing a dear friend with the departure of Khadija, she disapproved of the quiet and serious atmosphere enveloping the wedding day. She used that as a pretext for expressing some of the resentment and rage she harbored against the domineering spirit of al-Sayyid Ahmad. She observed sarcastically, “I've never seen a house like yours where what's licit is forbidden___What's the wisdom of that?” Since
Zaynab did not feel like saying goodbye to Khadija without a polite word, she praised her abilities highly and said she was a good homemaker who would be a credit to her husband.
Aisha agreed with that and added, “The only thing wrong with her is her tongue. Haven't you experienced it, Zaynab?”
Zaynab could not help laughing. She replied, “Praise God, I haven't, but I've heard it used against other people.”
Everyone laughed, and Khadija was the first. Then they saw suddenly that the mother was trying to listen to something. She said, “Hush”. They all stopped laughing immediately. They could hear people shouting outside.
Khadja said at once in alarm, “Al-Sayyid Ridwan has died.”
Maryam and her mother had excused themselves from the wedding because of the acute condition of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan. It was not strange, then, that Khadija should infer from the clamor that he had died. The mother rushed out of the room. After a few minutes she returned to say with great sorrow,”Shaykb Muhammad Ridwan has indeed passed away___What an awkward situation.”
Zaynab said, “Our excuse is as obvious as the sun. It's no longer in our power to postpone the wedding or to keep the bridegroom from celebrating his special night in his house, which, praise God, is far away. What more can they expect from you than this profound silence?”
Khadija, though, was lost in other thoughts that cast fear in her heart. She saw an evil portent in this sad news. She murmured as though to herself, “O Gracious Lord….”
Her mother read her thoughts and became upset too, but she refused to yield to this uninvited emotion or to allow her daughter to do so. Pretending to play down the importance of the coincidence, she commented, “We should not second-guess God's decree. Life and death are in His hands. Looking for evil omens is the work of Satan.”
Yasin and Fahmy joined the assembled women in the bride's room once they had finished dressing. They told the mother that al-Sayyid Ahmad had gone to represent the family, in view of the pressure of time. He would bear the necessary condolences to the family of al-Sayyid Ridwan.
Yasin looked at Khadija and said with a laugh, “Al-Sayyid Ridwan refused to remain in this world once you decided to move out of our neighborhood.?
She responded with a pale smile that gave no indication of her feelings. He began to examine her carefully and nod hishead in approval. He sighed and remarked, “Whoever said, ‘Dress up a reed and you can make it look like a bride,’ was right.”
She frowned to indicate she was not prepared to banter with him. She brushed him off: “Be quiet. I don't think it's a good omen that al-Sayyid Ridwan has died on my wedding day.”
He laughed and said, “I don't know which of you is more to blame”. He laughed some more and continued: “Don't worry about the man's death. What I'm afraid does not augur well is your tongue. My advice for you, which I never tire of repeating, is to soak your tongue in sweet syrup till it's fit for you to converse with the bridegroom.”
At that, Fahmy said in a conciliatory way, “Putting aside the question of al-Sayyid Ridwan, your wedding day coincides with a blessing for which the world has been waiting a long time. Don't you know that the armistice has been announced?”
Yasin cried out, “I almost forgot about that. Your wedding isn't today's only miracle. Something happened for the first time in years. The fighting stopped and Kaiser Wilhelm surrendered.”
Theii mother asked, “Will the high prices and the Australians go away?”
Yasin laughed and replied, “Naturally… of course. The high prices, the Australians, and Miss Khadija's tongue.”
Fahmy looked thoughtful. He remarked as if to himself, “The Germans were defeated…. Who would have imagined that? There's no longer any hope that Khedive Abbas or the nationalist leader Muhammad Fand will return. All hopes of restoring the Muslim caliphate have been lost. The star of the English continues in the ascendant while ours sets. We're in His hands.”
Yasin said, “The two who got something from the war are the English and Sultan Fuad. Without it, the former could never have dreamed of getting rid of the Germans and the latter could never have dreamed of ascending the throne of Egypt”. He was quiet for a moment and then continued merrily: “And there's a third party whose luck was equal to theirs. She's the bride who never dreamed of finding a husband.”