The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
She gazed at his face for a long time without speaking. Then she shook her head in a clearly ironic way and said with complete assurance, “How cunning middle-aged men are! Everything about them grows weaker except their guile. Do you think I'm a fool? Certainly not, by your life! I know the whole story.”
He began playing uneasily with one end of his mustache again. He asked her, “What do you know?”
“Everything!”
She paused a little to increase his discomfort. Finally she continued: “Do you remember the day you sat in the coffeehouse of al-Sayyid Ali and peeked through the window? At that time your eye stared so intensely at the wall of our house that you dug a hole in it. When I got in the wagon with the other members of the troupe I asked myself, ‘Do you suppose he'll follow along behind us yelling like a kid?’ But you were craftier and waited for a better opportunity.”
The man bellowed with laughter until his face grew even redder. Then, announcing his surrender, he said, “God, forgive us.”
“But you forgot to be wise yesterday when you saw me at Khan Ja'far. You followed me and even entered Ya'qub's store after I did.”
6
“Were you aware ofthat too, you niece of Zubayda?”
“Yes, prince of lovers, although I never imagined you would enter the store while I was inside. Before I knew what was happening there you were sitting on the sofa, even more daring than a lustful jinni. When you pretended to be astonished to see me, I almost let you have it with my tongue, but the circumstances forced me to be polite.”
Striking his hands together, he laughingly asked, “Didn't I say you're a puzzle?”
She went on speaking, intoxicated by victory and delight: “And one night what do I know but the sultana tells me, ‘Get ready, we're going to Muhammad Iffat's houseboat.’ So I proceed to get ready. But afterwards I hear her say, ‘It's al-Sayyid Ahmad who suggested the party.’ So I smell a rat and tell myself, ‘Al-Sayyid Ahmad doesn't suggest something merely out of the goodness of hisheart.’ I understand the trick and stay home, pretending to have a headache.”
“How unfortunate I am! I have fallen into the clutches of a merciless person. Is there anything else?”
“Not much more… just the invitation for this evening, an invitation solely for the sultana.”
“You couldn't have done any better if you were an experienced fortune-teller.”
“How sweet your words are! Ape the preachers, you sinner.”
“May God forgive you!” He laughed out loud and with gentle delight observed, “You understood what was up this time as well, but you stayed in. You didn't leave the house or hide yourself….”
Before finishing his sentence he rose, went to her, and sat down beside her. He took the edge of her spangled sash and kissed it, saying, “My God, I testify that this beautiful creature is more delightful than the tunes of her lute. Her tongue's a whip, her love's an inferno, and her lover's a martyr. Tonight will have an importance for all of history.”
She pushed him away and remarked, “Don't try to take me in with your chatter. Away! Go back to your place.”
“From now on nothing will ever separate us.”
She abruptly jerked her sash out of his hand and rose to step aside. Standing an arm's length away, she gazed at him curiously and silently, as though to reconsider some important matters. Then she said, “Why don't you ask what made me refrain from going to the houseboat the day Muhammad Iffat invited us, at your suggestion?”
“In order to stoke the flames of passion.”
She gave three short laughs in succession and then was silent for a long time. Finally she said, “Not a bad idea, but a bit passe. Isn't that so, prince of sinners? The truth will remain a secret until I decide to reveal it in my own good time.”
“I'll offer my life in exchange for it.”
For the first time she smiled with genuine pleasure. Following her ironic glances, there was now a tender look in her eyes, like the calm after a storm. Her appearance proclaimed that a new strategy was being unveiled along with a new idea. Drawing a step closer to him, she gracefully stretched her hand out to his mustache, which she began to twist carefully. In a tone he had not heard her use before she said, “If you offer your life in exchange for this, what will be left for me?”
He felt the kind of deep repose he had not experienced since that unsuccessful night in the houseboat. It was as though he was winning a woman for the first time. He removed her hands from his mustache and held them between his large palms. Affectionately and gratefully he said, “I'm more delirious than words can say, mistress of all creation. May you be mine forever and ever. Death to anyone who refuses you anything you hope or ask for. Complete your benefactions to me and prepare our party. Tonight is unlike any other one. It deserves to be celebrated until dawn.”
Stroking the palms of his hands with her fingers, she said, “Tonight really is unlike any other, but you'll have to be satisfied with just a little.”
“A little! Is there to be a rebuff after all this tenderness? I can't wait patiently for you any longer.”
He began to caress her hands. He unfolded her palms and admired the rose color of the henna with which they were decorated. She unexpectedly asked him in a laughing voice, “Do you read palms, old man?”
He smiled and said jokingly, “I'm renowned for my predictions. Would you like me to read your palm for you?”
She nodded in agreement, and he began to ponder her right hand, pretending to think deeply. With great interest he remarked, “I see a man who will be of great significance to you.”
Laughing, she asked, “In a licit way, do you suppose?”
He mised his eyebrows as he continued to scrutinize her palm. Without even the slightest indication that he was not totally in earnest tie replied, “No, illicitly!”
“I take refuge with God! How old ishe?”
Not raising hishead but looking up at her, he said, “That's not clear, but judged by his abilities, I'd say he's in the prime of youth.”
She said slyly, “I wonder if he's generous.”
“Oh!” he reflected. “It wasn't your generosity that pled your case with them in the old days.”
“Hisheart's unfamiliar with stinginess.”
She thought a little and then asked, “Would he be happy for me to stay on as a flunky in this house?”
“The calf is down,” he told himself. “Go fetch the knives.”
“No. He'll make you a lady without a peer.”
“I wonder where I'll be living, under his wing.”
“Not even Zubayda,” he warned himself, “made you do this. There'll be no end of talk about you.”
“In a beautiful apartment.”
“An apartment!”
He w as amazed by her tone of disapproval. Astonished, he asked her, “Wouldn't you like that?”
Pointing to her palm, she asked, “Don't you see flowing water there? Look carefully.”
“Flowing water! Do you want to live in a bathhouse?”
“Don't you see the Nile? A houseboat or a sailboat?”
“Four or five pounds a month all in one blow, not to mention the other expenses. Oh,” he reflected, “it doesn't pay to fall in love with lowlife.”
“Why choose such an isolated place?”
She came so close to him that their knees were touching and said, “aYour rank is not inferior to Muhammad Iffat's. And if you love me as much as you claim, then my luck should not be inferior to the sultana's. You would be able to pass your evenings there with your friends. That's my dream. Make it come true.”
He put his arms around her waist and stood there, silently enjoying the softness and reassurance of her touch. Then he told her, “Whatever you want is yours, light of my life.”
To th ank him she placed her hands on his cheeks. Then she said, “Don't think you're going to give and get nothing in return. Always remember that it's for your sake that I'm leaving this house where I've spent my whole life. I won't be
His arms squeezed her waist toward him until her breast was pressed against his face. Then he said, “I understand perfectly, light of my eyes. You'll have everything you want and more. I want to see you the way you want to be. Now, prepare our celebration for us. I would like my life to begin with this night.”
She grasped his arms. Smiling apologetically, she said gently, “When we're in our houseboat on the Nile.”
He cautioned her, “Don't drive me crazy. Can you withstand my assault?”
She stepped back and said in a tone between entreaty and ultimatum, “Not in this house where I've worked as a servant. Wait till we're united in the new home, yours and mine. Then I'll be yours forever. Not before then…. I ask it for the sake of our new life together.”
81
“GOOD NEWS, God willing,” Ahmad Abd al-Jawad repeated to himself when he saw Yasin coming into his store. This visit was unusual and unexpected, reminding him of the time Yasin had come to discuss the intention of his mother, since deceased, to many for the fourth time. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was sure his son had not called merely to say hello, pass the time of day, or chat about some routine matter he could bring up at home. No, Yasin would not visit him at the store unless the issue was serious.
After shaking hands with his son he invited him to have a seat and said, “Good news, God willing.”
Yasin sat down near his father, who was behind the desk. The young man turned his back on the rest of the shop, including Jamil al-Hamzawi, who stood by the scales weighing a customer's goods. The young man looked at his father uneasily, confirming al-Sayyi d Ahmad's suspicions. The proprietor closed the ledger in which he had been recording some figures and sat up straight in preparation for what was to come. The half-open safe was visible to his right. Above hishead a photograph of Sa'd Zaghlul as Prime Minister was hung on the wall under an old framed inscription reading: “In the name of God.”
Yasin 's visit to the store was not a random one but the result of thoughtful deliberation. He considered this the safest place to present his proposal to his father. The presence of Jamil al-Hamzawi and of any customers who happened to be there should safeguard and protect him if his father's wrath were provoked. Yasin still took every precaution to avoid angering his father despite the security age afforded him and the good treatment he ordinr ly received.
With great courtesy he said, “Please grant me a little of your precious time. Were it not absolutely necessary, I would not have dared to trouble you. But I am unable to undertake a step without your guidance and consent.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad smiled to himself at this extravagant display of courtesy and began to gaze apprehensively at his huge, handsome, fastidious son. He cast a comprehensive glance over him, taking in the young man's mustache, twisted just like his father's, dark blue suit, shirt with starched collar and blue bow tie, ivory fly whisk, and gleaming black shoes. In honor of this interview with his father, Yasin had altered his normal attire in only two respects. He had hidden the tip of his silk handkerchief, which usually peeked out from his jacket pocket, and had straightened his fez, which he ordinarily wore slanted to the right.
“He sayshe can't take a step without my guidance…. Bravo! Washe guided by me when he learned to drink or when he roved through the Wajh al-Birka entertainment district, which I forbade him? Did he consult me the night he assaulted the maid on the roof? Bravo! Bravo! What's behind this sermon from the pulpit?”
“Naturally, this is the least that one would expect from a reasonable person like you. I hope it's good news, God willing.”
Yasin glanced around quickly at Jamil al-Hamzawi and the customers. Then he brought his chair closer to the desk and, summoning all his courage, said, “I've decided, with your consent and approval, to perfect my religious observance by marrying.”
This was a genuine surprise, although unexpectedly a happy one. “But not so fast,” al-Sayyid Ahmad reflected. It would be a pleasant surprise only under certain conditions. He would have to wait until he heard the most important part of the proposal. Were there no reasons for concern? Yes, there were: that introduction so profusely polite and ingratiating and his choice of the store as the setting for their talk. These warning signs could not escape an astute observer. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had long hoped his son would remarry and for this reason had urged Muhammad Iffat to allow Zaynab to return to Yasin. On concluding his prayershe would entreat God each time to grant Yasin good sense and a good wife. If he had not been apprehensive that his son would cause him and his friends embarrassment as he had with Muhammad Iffat - al-Sayyid Ahmad would not have hesitated to find him another wife. Now he would bide his time to see if his fears were to be realized.
“An excellent decision…. I'm in full agreement with it. Have you selected any particular family?”
Yasin lowered his eyes for a moment. Raising them, he said, “I have found what I was seeking… an honorable family well known to us, because we have long been neighbors. The head of the household was one of your worthy acquaintances.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad arched his eyebrows inquisitively but said nothing. Yasin continued: “The late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan.”
“No!” The word escaped from the father before he could gain control of himself. It popped out in a groan of protest, which he felt obliged to justify in order to conceal the true reason for his feelingshe had no trouble in finding an explanation: “Hasn't his daughter been divorced? Are there so few women in the world that you're willing to marry a divorcee?”
This objection did not come as a surprise. He had been expecting it ever since he had resolved to marry Maryam. He hoped he could overcome his father's opposition, which he imagined would focus on the superiority of a virgin over a divorcee or dislike for a woman who might remind them of Fahmy's tragedy. He had faith in his father's good sense and was optimistic that it would ultimately dismiss these two minor objections. Indeed he was relying heavily on his father's approval to defeat the genuine opposition he anticipated from his stepmother. He was at such a loss to counter it that he had thought of leaving his father's house and marrying as he saw fit. He would elope and present them all with a fail: accompli. He could not bear the thought of angering his father, or he would have done that, even though it would have been hard for him to ignore the feelings of his second mother, who had beeu much more of a mother to him than his own. He felt he should do his utmost to sway her and convince her that he was right.
Yasin answered his father, “There are plenty of women in the world, but she's destined and fated to be mine. I'm not looking for wealth or prestige. A good family and an upright character are enough for me.”
If al-Sayyid Ahmad found anything to console himself in the midst of these painful and awkward matters, it was having his undisputed opinion of his son confirmed again. How typical this was of Yasin! He was a man, or beast, who brought problems with him, whether corning or going. Had he conveyed good news or glad tidingshe would not have been Yasin. Al-Sayyid Ahmad's opinion and estimation of his son would have been overturned.
“Perhapshe can be excused for not seeking a wife with wealth or prestige, but is the girl of good character? The mule is not to be blamed, for he quite naturally appears to know nothing about the conduct of the mother of the girl he wishes to marry.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad knew about her conduct from personal experience. Perhaps other men had preceded and followed him. What could he do? The girl might be well behaved, but it was certain her mother and home environment were less than ideal. It was sad, but he could not state his opinion openly, since he would be unable to provide the evidence needed to support his views, which would presumably be received with disbelief and annoyance by anyone hearing them for the first time. Worse still, he was afraid that allusion to these matters would motivate Yasin to investigate them thoroughly. Eventually the young man would find some evidence imp
The issue was delicate and awkward. There was also a sharp thorn concealed within it - the old story linking her to Fahmy. Had Yasin forgotten that? How could he overlook the fact that he wanted to marry the girl his late brother had once sought? Surely this was odious behavior. Yes, it was, although he felt confident that Yasin's sentiments for his late brother were sincere. The harsh logic of life provided an excuse for people like Yasin. Desire was a blind and merciless tyrant. Al-Sayyid Ahmad knew that better than anyone.
The father frowned to make his displeasure clear to his son and said, “I'm upset with your choice. I don't know why. The late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan was really a fine man, but his paralysis prevented him from supervising his household for a long time before his death. I don't intend this observation to cast suspicions on anyone. Certainly not! But it's something that has been said and possibly some people have repeated it. So? The most important thing with me is that she's been divorced. Why was she divorced? This is one of many questions for which you must learn the answer. It's not right for you to trust a divorcee until you've investigated everything about her thoroughly. Perhaps that's what I was trying to say. The world's full of girls from good families.”
Encouraged by his father's tone, which was one of discussion and counsel, Yasin said, “I've investigated, and others have too. I've discovered that the husband was at fault. He already had a wife and concealed that from them. Besides, he wasn't wealthy enough to support two households at the same time and was of bad character.”
“ 'Bad character'! Who's talking unashamedly about bad character? The mule's providing you with rare material for a whole evening's worth of jokes.”
“So you've concluded your search and investigation,” he said.
Evading the piercing eyes of his father, Yasin said with embarrassment, “This was an obvious first step….”