The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
On the appointed evening he went to the houseboat in Imbaba. He had not been able to decide what to do, although he had mulled the matter over at length. He finally resolved to try to deal with his problems by exploiting the circumstances and opportunities that presented themselves. It was enough for him to be sure of seeing her, at first in the company of the others and then alone at the end of the evening. He would be able to size up the situation again and renew his advances, this time calling into play every form of enticement. He entered the boat somewhat timidly and in a condition that would have aroused his laughter and sarcasm had he observed it in someone else and understood the reasons for it.
He found his comrades there with Jalila and Zubayda but saw no trace' of the lute player. He was welcomed warmly and had scarcely removed his cloak and fez to sit down when cheerful laughter rang out around him. Because he was habituated to it, he was able to blend into that happy atmosphere. He conversed, jested, and flirted, while combating his anxiety and setting aside his concerns. Yet his fears like a pain that disappears temporarily when treated with an anesthetic - lay concealed beneath the itnirthfu] current and did not dissipate. He kept hoping that a door would open and she would appear or that one of them would say something to explain her absence or to predict her speedy arrival. As the minutes dragged by wearily, his hopes faded, enthusiasm waned, and serene expectations became clouded.
“Which do you suppose was the chance occurrence: her presence the day before yesterday or her absence today? I won't ask anyone. The evidence suggests that your secret has been safely kept. If Zubayda knew, she wouldn't hesitate to make a disgraceful scandal out of it.”
He laughed a lot and drank even more. He asked Zubayda to sing “My mouth laughs, but my heart of hearts weeps”. Once he almost closeted himself with Muhammad Iffat to reveal what he sought. Another time he was on the verge of testing the reaction of Zubayda herself but restrained himself and escaped from that crisis with his secret and honor intact.
When Ali Abd al-Rahim rose at midnight to go to his girlfriend's establishment in Wajh al-Birka, he also got up, to everyone's surprise, to return home. They tried in vain to dissuade him or to get him to stay just one more hour. He departed, leaving behind him astonished and disappointed friends, whose hopes, aroused by his arrival at the designated time, had not been realized.
That Friday he set off for the mosque of al-Husayn shortly before the time for communal prayer. As He was walking down Khan Ja'far Street he saw her proceed from Watawit Alley to the street running by the mosque. Oh!… hisheart had never pounded that way before. That was followed immediately by the total paralysis of all his psychic faculties. In a daze, he imagined incorrectly that he had stopped walking and that the world around him was silent as a tomb. He resembled an automobile that, although vibrationless, continues to move because of its momentum after its engine has been turned off and its roar silenced. When he came to his senses, he discovered that she had gotten far ahead of him. Without any deliberation or consideration he followed after her at once. He passed by the mosque without turning in. Staying some distance back, he pursued her to New Street. What did he hope for? He did not know. He was acting blindly and impulsively. Never before had he followed a woman on the street, not even when he was young. He began to feel anxious and wary. Then an idea both ironic and alarming caught him off guard. What if Yasin or Kamal should discover the secret of this surreptitious pursuit?
He took care to keep the distance between them as great as ever. His eyes feasted ravenously on her charming body while he was overcome by successive waves of passion and pain. Then he saw her leave the street to enter a goldsmith's shop belonging to an acquaintance of his named Ya'qub. He slowed his steps to allow time to plan. His feelings of anxiety and wariness increased. Should he not go back the way he had come? Should he walk past the store without paying any attention to her? Should he look inside and see what would happen?
He gradually drew closer to the store, and only a few paces remained when a daring thought occurred to him. Without any hesitatio ti he quickly put it into action, ignoring the seriousness of its possible consequences. He would leave the flow of pedestrian traffic on the street to mount the sidewalk, where he would saunter past the store, anticipating that the owner would see him and, as usual, invite him in. Then he would accept the invitation. He proceeded according to this plan until he reached the store. Then he glanced inside as though by accident. His eyes met those of Ya'qub, who immediately called out to him, “Welcome to al-Sayyid Ahmad. Please come in.”
Al-Savyid Ahmad smiled amiably and made his way inside, where the two men shook hands warmly. The proprietor invited him to have a glass of carob sherbet, which he graciously accepted. He took a seat at the end of a leather sofa in front of the table on which the scales were placed, giving no indication of being aware of the presence of a third person in the store until he sat down. Then he saw Zanuba. She was standing opposite the proprietor and turning an earring around in her hands. He pretended to be astonished, and their eyes met. Since she smiled, he did so too. Then he placed his hand on his breast in greeting and said, “Good morning. How are you?”
Looking back at the earring, she said, “Fine, may our Lord be good to you.”
Mr. Ya'qub was proposing to trade her the earrings for a bracelet, with the balance in cash, but they disagreed about the amount. Al-Sayyi d Ahmad seized the opportunity provided by her involvement in the negotiations to feast his eyes on her cheek. It did not escape bis attention that their haggling offered him a chance to intervene on her behalf. Perhaps, maybe… But not knowing what he had in mind, she spoiled his plan by returning the earring to the goldsmith and announcing that she had decided definitively against the exchange. She asked him to repair the bracelet instead. Then she said goodbye to him, nodded at al-Sayyid Ahmad, and left the shop. She accomplished all this more rapidly than he thought necessary. He was taken aback and upset. Listless embarrassment gained control of him. He tarried there with the proprietor, exchanging the usual pleasantries until he had drunk his glass of carob sherbet. Then he asked leave of the man and departed.
With profuse shame he remembered the communal prayer service he had almost missed. He washesitant about going to the mosque, for he lacked the courage to proceed directly there following his pursuit of a woman during the time set aside for prayer. Had not his frolic terminated the requisite state of ritual cleanliness? Did it not render him unfit to stand before his Compassionate Lord? In pain he sadly gave up the idea of going to prayers and walked the streets aimlessly for about an hour. Then he returned home, reflecting once more on his sin. But even in those sensitive moments rilled with regret, his mind never closed the door on Zanuba.
That evening he called on Muhammad Iffat early, before the other friends arrived, so that he could speak to him in private. He told his friend, “I have a favor to ask of you. Tomorrow evening invite Zubayda to the houseboat.”
Muhammad Iffat laughed and said, “If you want her, why all this beating around the bush? If you had asked for her the first night, she would have opened her arms to you in the warmest possible welcome.”
With some embarrassment al-Sayyid Ahmad replied, “I want you to invite just her.”
“Only? What a selfish man you are, thinking of no one but yourself. What about al-Far and me? Why not make it a night to remember forever. We'll invite Zubayda, Jalila, and Zanuba too.”
With apparent distaste Ahmad Abd al-Jawad asked, “Zanuba?”
“Why not? As a reserve to be tapped in case of need, she's perfectly adequate.”
“How much it hurts me to hear that,” al-Sayyid Ahmad said to himself. “So how could she, that chip off the old block, reject me and why?”
“Haven't you discerned my aim yet?” he asked his friend. “The fact is that I don't intend to come tomorrow night.”
Surprised, Muhammad Iffat exclaimed, “You ask me to invite Zubayda! You say you won't come! What are these riddles?”
Al-Say
I asked you to invite just Zubayda so Zanuba would be left alone in the house.”
“Zanuba, you son of a gun.”
After laughing long and hard he asked, “Why all this trouble? Why didn't you ask for her that first night on the houseboat? If you had moved a finger, she would have flown over and stuck to you like glue.”
Despite his painful resentment, he smiled inanely. Then he said, “Carry out my instructions. That's all I want.”
Twisting his mustache, Muhammad Iffat appropriated a phrase about idolatry from the Qur'an: “Feeble are the one who seeks and the one sought” (22:73).
With extreme earnestness Ahmad Abd al-Jawad requested, “Let this be a secret between us.”
80
THE STREET was empty and pitch black when he knocked on the door at about nine o'clock. It opened after a while, but the person inside remained hidden. Then a voice that made hisheart tremble asked, “Who is it?”
He replied calmly, “Me.”
Entering without being invited, he closed the door behind him and found himself face to face with her. She stood on the bottom step, holding out her hand with the lamp, and gave him a surprised look before muttering, “You!”
He stood there silently for a time, and his faint smile revealed his apprehension and anxiety. Encountering no objection or anger on her part, he felt courageous enough to ask, “Is this how you welcome an old friend?”
She turned away and started back up the stairs saying, “Come in.”
He followed her quietly, concluding from her having opened the door herself that she was alone and that the position of the maid Jaljal, who had died two years before, remained vacant. He accompanied her to the vestibule, where she hung the lamp on a nail near the door. She went on alone into the reception room, where she lit the large lamp hanging from the ceiling. This served to confirm his hunch. She came back out, gestured to him to enter, and vanished.
Proceeding into the room, he took a seat on the middle sofa, where he had been accustomed to sit in the old days. Removing his fez, he placed it on the pillow that divided the seat in half. He stretched his leg out as he cast a questioning look at his surroundings. He remembered the place as though he had only left it a day or two before. There were the three sofas, the armchairs, the Persian carpet, the three tables inlaid with mother-of-pearl. … Things were much as they had been. Could he remember the last time he had sat there? His memories about the music room and the bedroom were clearer and firmer, but he could not forget the first meeting he had had with Zubayda in this room, in exactly this spot. He could recall everything that had transpired. Back then no one had been more sure of himself and relaxed than he was. When would she return? What impact had his visit made on her? How overbearing would her conceit be? Had she realized that he had come because of her and not her aum:?
“If you fail this time, you can kiss the whole affair goodbye.”
He heard the muffled tread of slippers. Then Zanuba appeared at the door in a white dress decorated with red roses. She wore a spangled sash and was bareheaded, and her hair was arranged in two thick braids that hung down her back. He greeted her… erect, smiling, and optimistic because of the care she had taken to adorn herself. She acknowledged his presence with a smile and motioned for him to sit down. She took a place on the sofa halfway down the wall on his right, as she said with mild astonishment, “Welcome. What a surprise!”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad smiled and asked, “What kind of surprise, I wonder?”
Kaisitig her eyebrows enigmatically, with no hint as to whether she was in earnest or in jest, she replied, “Pleasant, of course.”
“Since we've allowed our feet to carry ushere,” he reflected, “we must put up with whatever style of flirtation she chooses, whether delicate or heavy-handed.”
He sc rutinized her body and face calmly, as though to isolate in them the features that had tormented him and played havoc with his dignity.
They were both silent until she turned to look at him. Although she saic. nothing, the motion of her head suggested a polite inquiry, as if saying, “We're at your service.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad asked her slyly, “Will we have to wait long for the sultana? Hasn't she finished dressing yet?”
She gave him a strange look, narrowed her eyes, and then said, “The sultana's not at home.”
Pretending to be amazed, he inquired, “Where do you suppose she is?”
Shaking her head and smiling mysteriously, she answered, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
He thought about her reply a little and then said, “I would have supposed she kept you informed of her whereabouts.”
She waved her hand modestly and said, “You think too highly of us”. Then, laughing, she continued: “The time of military rule is over. If you want, you're in a much better position to keep abreast of her activities than I am.”
“Me?”
“Why not? Aren't you an old friend of hers?”
Treating her to a deep, eloquent, smiling look, he said, “An old friend and a stranger are much the same. I wonder if your former friends keep up with you?”
She raised her right shoulder and made a face, proclaiming, “I have no friends, neither old nor new.”
He started toying with one end of his mustache and responded, “Talk like that would only fool a person totally lacking in sense. A man with any wits about him could not imagine men seeing you and not rushing to become your friends.”
“That's what gracious men like you might imagine, but that's all it is figments of your imagination. You provide the evidence that I'm right. Although you're an old friend of this house, were you ever moved to provide me with a share ofthat friendship?”
He frowned in confusion. After some hesitation he said, “At that time I was… I mean, there were circumstances…”
She snapped her fingers and said sarcastically, “Perhaps it was those same circumstances, alas, that have kept the others away from me too.”
In a quick, theatrical gesture he reared back against the sofa. Then he looked down his large nose at her, shaking hishead as though asking God to rescue him. Finally he commented, “You're a puzzle. I hereby confess that I'm helpless before you.”
She hid the smile his praise had inspired and pretended to be astonished as she said, “I absolutely do not understand what you mean. It's clear that we're mountains apart. The important thing is that you said you came to see my aunt. Is there any message I can give her when she returns?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad laughed briefly. Then he replied, “Tell her, 'Ahmad Abd al-Jawad came to complain about me and didn't find you in.'”
“To complain about me? What have I done?”
“Tell her that I came to gripe about the harsh treatment you meted out to me. It's not becoming to a beautiful woman.”
“What a perfect remark for a man who makes everything grist for his jokes and banter….”
He sat up straight and said earnestly, “God forbid that I should make you the subject of my jokes or banter. I'm serious about my complaint. I think you understand the allusion perfectly well, but are flirting the way beautiful women do. They have every right to flirt, but they also have a duty to show mercy.”
She pursed her lips and said, “Amazing!”
“It's not amazing at all. Do you remember what happened yesterday in the shop of Ya'qub the goldsmith? Was this stiff reception all that a person merits who is as proud of your friendship as I am and who has known you for as long? I wish, for example, that you had appealed to me to assist you in your negotiations with the goldsmith. I would have liked for you to give me a chance to put my expertise to work for you or for you to go even one step further and leave the whole matter to me, as though the bracelet were mine or its owner my good friend….”
She smiled and raised her eyebrows in confusion. Then she said tersely, “Thanks.”
He bre
She folded her arms across her breast and pretended to be astonished. Mockingly she asked, “Are you hungry, my master, sir? We have mallow greens and rabbit that will melt in your mouth.”
He laughed loudly and said, “Fine! It's a deal. Mallow greens and rabbit supplemented by a glass of whiskey… then we'll amuse ourselves with some lute music and dancing and stretch out together for an hour while we digest the food.”
She waved her hand at him as though to tell him to back off. Then she said, “My God! If we don't speak up, he'll try to bring in his donkey too. Keep your distance.”
He folded the fingers of his right hand into a fist, which looked like a tightly puckered mouth. He began to raise and lower it deliberately, as he said oratorically, “Girl, don't waste precious time in talk.”
Shaking her head, she replied proudly and flirtatiously, “You should say rather, 'Don't waste valuable time with middle-aged men.'”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad rubbed his broad chest with the palm of his hand in a gesture of friendly challenge. She shook her shoulders laughingly and said, “Even if…”
“ 'Even if? What a baby you are! I won't rest easy till I teach you what you need to learn. Fetch the mallow greens, rabbit, whiskey, lute, and the sash for your dance outfit. Come on. Let's go!”
Bending the index finger of her left hand, she placed it by her left eyebrow as she wiggled the other one. She inquired, “Aren't you afraid the sultana will take us by surprise?”
“Never fear. The sultana won't return tonight.”
She gave him a sharp, suspicious look and asked, “How do you know?”
He realized that he had said more than he should have and for a time almost fell prey to confusion. He rescued himself by saying adroitly, “The sultana would not stay out this late except for an emergency requiring her to stay over till morning.”