The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
“When will Miss Maryam return?”
“Late in the afternoon….”
Wickedly he said, “I feel my visit's lasted too long.”
“It's not a long visit, for you're at home.”
With equal naughtinesshe inquired, “I wonder whether I may hope you'll return my call.”
She smiled broadly as though to tell him, “I understand what's behind this invitation”. Then she bowed her head with embarrassment, although the theatrics of her gesture did not escape him.
He did not concern himself with that but started to describe the location of his house and of his apartment within that building.
Her head bowed, she smiled silently. Was she not conscious of wronging and injuring her daughter in the clearest possible way?
“When will you honor me with a visit?”
She mumbled as she raised her head, “I don't know what to say.”
Confidently and firmly he said, “I'll answer on your behalf. Tomorrow evening. You'll find me waiting for you.”
“There are matters we must take into account.”
“We'll deal with all of them… at my house.”
He rose at once and started to go toward her, but she gestured for him to keep his distance and looked toward the door to caution him.
“Tomorrow evening,” she said, as though her only goal was to avert his attack.
83
THE HOUSE in Palace of Desire Alley came to know Bahija as a persistent visitor. Once darkness spread its veil, the lady draped herself in her wrap and proceeded to al-Gamaliya, heading for the home that had once belonged to Yasin's mother, Haniya. There she found Yasin waiting for her in the only furnished room of the apartment. They never referred to Maryam, except once when Bahija said, “I wasn't able to keep the news of your visit from Maryam, because our maid knows you. But I told her you had mentioned your interest in asking for her hand once the obstacles blocking your way in the family circle were overcome.”
He was too astonished by her remark to care to comment and merely expressed his agreement and approval. Together they embarked on a life of sensual gratification. Yasin found the custodian of the treasured rump submissive to his every whim, and he himself was as free from inhibitions as a wild stallion. The hastily and frugally furnished room was not an ideal location for an affair, but Yasin went out of his way to create an attractive atmosphere by providing an ample supply of food and drinks so that their trysts would go well. He assaulted her repeatedly with an appetite that knew no limit or moderation.
Shortly before the first week had run its course Yasin began to feel bored. His lust was once more acting out the same cycle he had experienced before, as the remedy became an ailment. At least it did not come as a surprise to him. From the beginning he had harbored no good intentions whatsoever for that curious relationship and had not expected it to last. He obviously thought this romance in the parlor was no more than a passing fling but found that the woman was becoming attached to him. She wanted him and hoped he would be so satisfied with her that he would abandon the idea of marrying her daughter. He saw no alternative to humoring her, lest he put his pleasure at risk. He believed that time bore the sole responsibility for returning everything to normal.
Matters quickly sorted themselves out, probably faster than he had imagined possible. He had gone along with her, thinking that the novelty of her charms would be enough to sustain her appeal for several weeks or a month, but he must have miscalculated. Although her appearance was seductive, it had caused him to commit the greatest folly of a life littered with them. Her years lay concealed behind that beauty like a fever disguised by rosy cheeks. The pounds and pounds of flesh treasured in layers under the folds of her clothes were, as he put it, not quite as appealing when seen stripped naked, for nothing records the effects of a sad life so graphically as the human body. He even told himself, “Now I understand why women are crazy about clothes.”
Considering all this, it was hardly strange that he referred to her as a “plague” once he tired of her attentions or that he should resolve to end their relationship. As his mad infatuation with her mother faded, Maryam regained her previous place in his affections. In fact, she had never lost it but had been overshadowed by this unexpected outbreak of passion like the moon obscured by a fleeting cloud. How amazing! His desire for Maryam was no longer merely a response to his insatiable lust for women, even if that was the dominant factor. His interest in her was also furthered by his longing to start a family, an eventuality he considered both desirable and predestined.
Yasin reluctantly counseled himself to be patient until Bahija returned to her senses, assuming that she would tell him one day, “We've had enough fun. Now go to your bride”. But his hopes found no echo in her. She visited him persistently night after night, growing ever more overwhelming and intense. He sensed that as time passed she was beginning to believe he was rightfully hers, as though he had become her property and the pivot around which her life revolved.
She did not think of the affair as a trivial or humorous escapade, and the frivolous, fickle, and reckless character she displayed convinced him that her aberrant behavior with him at their first meeting had not been an isolated phenomenon. Feeling that she was cheap, he scorned her. To his critical eyes her defects were magnified until he was totally disgusted with her. He decided to get rid of her at the first opportunity, although he was eager to avoid any rude conduct that would strew the path to Maryam with obstacles.
One time he said, “Doesn't Maryam ask what has become of me?”
With a reassuring toss of her head, she answered, “She knows perfectly well that your family's opposed.”
After some hesitation he said, “I'll tell you frankly that we used to converse occasionally on the roof and that I assured her repeatedly of my determination to marry her, regardless of opposition from any quarter….”
She gave him a piercing look and asked, “What are you trying to say?”
With feigned innocence he replied, “I mean she'sheard that assurance from me and knows of my subsequent visit. She needs to be offered some convincing explanation for my disappearance.”
With a nonchalance that stunned him, she said, “It won't harm her if you don't…. Not every discussion leads to a marriage proposal., and not every proposal leads to a marriage. She knows all that perfectly well”. Then she continued in a low voice: “It won't hurt her to lose you. She's a young woman in her prime. She'll have a suitor tomorrow if not today.”
Bahija seemed to be apologizing for her selfishness or else pointing out that it was she, not her daughter, who would be harmed by losing him. Her statement only made him more uneasy and annoyed. If that were not enough, he began to nourish fears about the effects of an affair with a woman twenty years his senior, because of the notion popular at the time that associating with a mature woman would rob a man of his youth. Thus the hours they spent together were charged for him with such tension and circumspection that he detested them.
He was in this state of mind when he ran into Maryam one day on New Street. He went up to her without any hesitation, greeted her, and walked along beside her as though he was one of her relatives. She frowned nervously, but he told her that he had been working to achieve his father's consent, which he finally had won, and that he was preparing his dwelling in Palace of Desire AJley for them. He apologized for the length of his absence, citing his many chores. Then he told her, “Inform your mother that I'll visit her tomorrow to make arrangements for the wedding.”
He went off, happy that he had seized this unexpected opportunity. In his joyful exuberance he was indifferent to Bahija's possible reaction. That evening she arrived at her regular time, but devastated and agitated.
Even before she removed her veil she shouted at him, “You've sold me out, by hook and by crook.”
Then she plopped down on the bed and nervously yanked off her veil. She said, “It never occurred to me that you could be so deceitful, but you're a sneaky
Gently and apologetically Yasin said, “It wasn't the way you imagine. The truth is that I met her by accident.”
Scowling, she shouted, “Liar! Liar! By the truth of the One capable of making me see anything desirable in you, do you think I'll ever believe you again after what's happened?” Then she repeated his words in a sarcastic parody: “ ‘The truth is that I met her by accident.’ What kind of accident, buster? Let's suppose it really was an accident. Why did you speak to her in the street in front of all the passersby? Wasn't that the act of a wicked traitor?” Returning to her parody, she said, “ 'The truth is that I met her by accident.'”
Somewhat ill at ease, he said, “I suddenly found myself face to face with her. My hand stretched out to greet her. It wasn't possible for me to ignore her after our conversations on the roof….”
Her face pale with rage, she screamed, “ ‘My hand stretched out to greet her.’ A hand doesn't reach out until you extend it. May your hand and you both be struck down. What you're saying is that you stretched your hand out to her to get rid of me.”
“I had to greet her. I'm a man with feelings.”
“Feelings? Where are they? You traitor and son of a traitor, may you choke on your feelings”. After swallowing she continued: “What about your promise to come make all the arrangements for the wedding? Did that slip away from you too like your hand? … Speak, Mr. Sensitivity!”
With extraordinary calm he answered, “Everyone in the neighborhood knows I left my father's home in order to marry your daughter. It was impossible for me to ignore that when talking to her.”
She yelled sharply, “You could have invented any excuse you wanted, if you'd had a mind to. You're not a person who is short on lies. But you wanted to get rid of me. That's the truth of it.”
Avoiding her eyes, he said, “Our Lord knows of my good intentions.”
She cast a long look at him and then asked defiantly, “Would you have me believe that you allowed yourself to be coerced into making this promise to her?”
Recojmizing the danger of admitting that, he lowered his eyes and took refuge in silence. Panting with rage, she yelled, “You see! You're a liar, just as I said”. Then she shrieked, “See? See? Traitor! Son of a traitor!”
After some hesitation he responded, “A secret can't remain hidden forever. Imagine what people will say if they find out about our affair. Indeed, imagine what Maryam will say___”
She ground her teeth in her fury and said, “You swine! Why didn't you mention any of these reservations the day you stood before me slobbering like a dog? Oh, the male sex! Red-hot hell will be too mild a punishment for you.”
He smiled a little and would almost have laughed had he not been restrained by cowardice. Then he said gently and affectionately, “We've had a wonderful time. I'll always remember it fondly. That's enough anger and bitterness. Maryam is your daughter and you more than anyone else desire her happiness.”
She shook her head scornfully and said, “Are you the one to make her happy? May the walls be my witness: The poor girl doesn't know the kind of devil she's marrying. You're the lecherous son of a debauchee. May our Lord repay her for the mess she's getting herself into.”
He said with the composure he had maintained from the beginning, “Our Lord will be able to set everything right. I have a sincere desire for a good marriage with a good wife.”
She said derisively, “I'll cut my arm off if you're speaking the truth. We'll see. Don't cast any aspersions on my qualities as a mother. My daughter's happiness is more important to me than any other consideration. If you had not deceived and betrayed me, I would have been glad to hand you to her Hke a dirty shoe.”
Yasin wondered whether the crisis was over. He was waiting for her to put on her veil and bid him farewell, but she did not budge. Time passed. She was sitting on the bed, and he was on the chair facing her. He had no idea how or when this strange and tense meeting would end. He stole a look at her and found her gazing at the floor, so lost and resigned that his fond feelings for her were momentarily revived.
“Will she start raving again? That's not unlikely. But it appears that she's aware of her delicate situation with regard to her daughter and will honor its demands.”
Before he knew what was happening she had removed the wrap from around her shoulders and chest, mumbling, “It's warm”. Then she scooted along the bed to the end, where she leaned back against the headboard. She stretched her legs out, paying no attention to her shoes, the heels of which were sinking into the folds of the comforter. She still appeared lost in her reflections. Did she simply have nothing more to say?
In a tone notable for its gentleness, he asked her, “Would you permit me to call on you tomorrow?”
She ignored his question for a minute. Then she threw him a look like a curse and replied, “You will be most welcome, you chip off the old block.”
He smiled with satisfaction, although he felt her glances scorching his face. After a moment she said, “Don't think I'm a fool. I reconciled myself to this conclusion sooner or later. It's just that you've speeded it up in a way that…” Then she finished with a combination of resignation and scorn: “Whatever we have to do….”
He did not believe her but pretended to. He told her that he was sure it was true and hoped she would forgive him and not harbor ill feelings. She did not bother to listen and made her way back to the edge of the bed. Then she threw her feet to the ground, stood up, and began to pull her wrap around her. She said, “I leave you in the hands of God.”
He rose silently and went ahead of her to the door to open it. He led the way out but was caught off guard by a blow falling on the nape of his neck. Then the woman passed by him to the stairs, leaving him stunned, his hand spread over the place where she had hit him. Grasping hold of the railing, she turned back and said, “May you live to receive many more. You've hurt me much more than that. Don't I have a right to satisfy my craving for vengeance, even if only with a slap, you son of a bitch?”
84
“AL-SAYYID AHMAD, please excuse me if I tell you frankly that you're spending money recklessly these days.”
Jamil al-Hamzawi said that in a tone blending subservient politeness with friendly informality. Although fifty-seven, he was strong and in good health. His hair was speckled with gray, but time had not decreased his energy in any respect. He still spent the whole day in constant motion, looking after the store and its customers, just as he had since he started working there, back when die business was first established. Over the yearshe had gained secure rights and the respect due him for his industry and honesty. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad considered him a friend. The affection he had shown his employee recently by helping enroll Fuad in Law School had only increased al-Hamzawi's loyalty and inclination to speak up frankly when necessary to avoid some harm or realize some gain.
Referring perhaps to their brisk sales in the frantic market, Ahmad replied in a reassuring tone, “Business is great, praise God.”
Smiling, Jamil al-Hamzawi answered, “My our Lord multiply and sanction it. But I repeat what I've said of you, that if you had embraced the mores of the merchant along with his profession, you would be a wealthy man today.”
Ahmad grinned with satisfaction and shrugged his shoulders. He earned a lot and spent a lot. How could he regret the pleasureshe gained from life? He had never lost track of the need to keep his income and expenditures in balance and always kept a reserve on hand. Aisha and Khadija were both married. Kamal was beginning the final stage of his schooling. Why should he not enjoy some of the good things life had to offer? But al-Hamzawi was not overstating the case when he accused his boss of squandering money, for in fact he had been anything but economical and judicious of late. His expenses took many forms. Gifts devoured a substantial sum. The houseboat was squeezing him dry. His mistress was demanding sacrifices of him. In short, Zanuba was pushing him to spend money extravagantly, and he was allowing himself to be m
Al-Sayyid Ahmad told Jamil al-Hamzawi with apparent irony, “Perhaps you're wrong to consider me a merchant”. Then with resignation he added, “Only God is well-to-do.”
Some people came in, and al-Hamzawi was busy looking after them. No sooner was al-Sayyid Ahmad left to his own reflections than he noticed a person who, after filling the doorway to capacity, was strutting toward him. This was a surprise. He recalled at once that he had not laid eyes on this figure for four years or more. Moved solely by politeness, he rose to greet her, saying, “Welcome to our honored neighbor.”
Maryam's mother held out a hand covered with a corner of her wrap as she said, “Thank you, al-Sayyid Ahmad.”
He invited her to sit down, and she took the chair she had used on a day that was now part of history. He sat back down wondering about this new development. He had not seen her since she came to call on him at the store a year after Fahmy's death, when she had attempted to get him to resume his visits to her house. He had been amazed at her daring then. Not having recovered from his grief, he had treated her gruffly and bade her farewell coldly. Why was she corning back today? He looked her over and found her unchanged. She was plump and elegant, wearing a fragrant perfume. Her eyes sparkled over the top of her veil. But her finery could not conceal the advance of time and the lines under her eyes. She reminded him of Jalila and Zubayda. How heroically these women risked their lives in the battle for life and youth…. Amina had only too quickly fallen prey to her sorrows and allowed her bloom to fade.