The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
In other words, the man was a quarter century behind al-Sayyid Ahmad. In everything except age it is bad to be behind. Jealousy is a brazen assassin.
She continued: “I pretended not to know him, even though he promised me the kind of life I dream of.”
“What a chip off the old block!” he told himself. “Zubayda could have learned a lot from you.”
“Is that so?” he asked.
“Let me tell you bluntly that I can't stand this life any longer.”
“Remember the fly and the spider,” he reminded himself.
“Really?”
“Yes. I want a secure life and a legal one. Or do you think that's wrong?”
“You came to interrogate her,” he reflected, “but where do you stand now? She's the one ready to throw you out. How come you're so forbearing? Reserve some self-respect for what's left of your life. Do you understand what she's hinting at? … How lovely the breaking waves are at sunset.”
His silence was prolonged, and she calmly started up again: “This won't anger you, for you're a pious man in spite of everything.
How can you obstruct a woman's desire to live according to the teachings of her religion? I don't want to be a mount for every rider. I'm not like my aunt. I have the heart of a Believer: I fear God. This has strengthened my resolve to abandon my sinful ways.”
He listened to her last statement with astonishment and alarm. He started to scrutinize her with annoyance, which he hid behind a feeble smile. Then he replied, “You've never mentioned this to me before. Until yesterday we were getting along fine.”
“I didn't know how to disclose my feelings to you.”
“She's getting away from you with frightening and wicked speed. What a disappointment! I'm prepared to forget last night, ill-omened though it was. I'll forget my doubt and my pain … if she renounces this devilish scheme.”
”We lived together happily and harmoniously. Does our relationship mean so little to you?”
”No, but I want to make it better. Isn't a godly life better than a sinful one?”
His lower lip tightened into a meaningless smile. Then he said in a faint voice, “For me the situation is quite different”. “How?”
“I'm married, my son's married, and my daughters are married. As you can see, the matter's extremely delicate”. Then he added regretfully, “Weren't we blissfully happy?”
She answered testily, “I'm not telling you to divorce your wife and renounce your children. Many men have more than one wife.”
He observed apprehensively, “Marriage for a man my a… in my situation is not an easy matter. It provokes a lot of comment.”
She laughed sarcastically and said, “Everyone knows you have a mistress That doesn't bother you. How come the possibility of gossip about a legal marriage worries you - if you want to marry me?”
Smiling with uneasy confusion, he said, “Only a few people know my secret. Besides, my family's totally in the dark about it.”
She raised her penciled eyebrows in disbelief and said, “That's what you think. Only God knows for sure. What secret's secure from people's tongues?”
Before he could respond, she continued irately: “Or perhaps you don't think I'm good enough to have the honor of belonging to your family?”
“God forgive me,” he thought, “the husband of Zanuba the lute player….”
“I didn't mean that, Zanuba.”
She said disdainfully, “You won't be able to hide your true feelings from me for long. I'll learn them tomorrow if not today. If marrying me would disgrace you, then goodbye.”
“You came to get rid of the other man,” he told himself, “but he's tossing you out. You've given up asking her where she was. She's offering you a choice between marriage and the door. What are you going to do? What's paralyzing you? It's your treacherousheart. Having your bones ripped from your flesh would be easier than leaving this lute player. Isn't it sad you're suffering an insane love like this only when you're getting on in years?”
He asked critically, “Is that what you think of me?”
“I don't think much of a person who treats me like spit.”
Sadly and calmly he said, “You're dearer to me than my soul.”
“Words! We've heard a lot of them.”
“But it's the truth.”
“It's time to learn that from your actions, not your words.”
He looked down in distress and despair. He did not know how he could accept her proposal and yet did not have the strength to reject it, particularly since his desire for her had destroyed his mental concentration and shackled him. In a subdued voice he said, “Give me time to arrange my life….”
Hiding a sly smile, she said smugly, “If you really love me, you won't hesitate.”
He quickly retorted, “It's not that. There are other matters…”. He gestured as if to explain his words, although even he did not know precisely what they meant.
She smiled and said, “If that's how it is, I'll wait patiently.”
He experienced the temporary relief of a collapsing boxer who hears the bell concluding a round other than the final one. A wish for consolation from his cares and reassurance after his anxiety pulsed through him. Holding his hand out to her, he said, “Come to me.”
She drew herself back resolutely in the chair and said, “When God sanctions it.”
100
HE LEFT the houseboat, made his way along the dark bank of the Nile, and headed down the deserted street toward the Zamalek Bridge. The gentle breeze cooled his hot brow and with a rustling whisper stirred the interlocking branches of the giant trees, which in the gloom resembled dunes or ebony clouds. Whenever he glanced up he found them hovering over him like phantoms of the worry troubling his breast. Did these lights pouring out of houseboat windows come from homes free of cares?
“But no anxiety's comparable to yours,” he assured himself. “There's a difference between a man who dies and one who commits suicide. You've unquestionably agreed to commit suicide.”
He continued walking, for he could think of no better way to release his nervous tension and to collect his thoughts before joining his friends. He would eventually closet himself with them and tell them everything. He would not take a step like this without consulting them, even though he could already guess what they would say. He would confess it all to them, no matter how painful, since he felt as overwhelming a desire to confide in them as a drowning man does to cry for help when seized by a violent wave.
He was well aware that he had agreed to marry Zanuba. He could hardly deny his abject craving for her but could not imagine that marriage would accommodate his desires. How could he break the “good” news to his wife and children or to other people? Although he wanted to keep walking for as long as possible and had no destination, he quickened his pace, took broad steps, and struck his stick against the ground as if in a great hurry to get somewhere.
She had rejected him and sent him away. These tricks were no novelty to a man of his worldly experience, but a weak person may knowingly fall into a snare. If the walking and the pure air revived him a little, he still remained befuddled and flustered. The flow of thoughts in his mind was so disordered that he could hardly bear it. He felt he would go crazy if a decisive solution, no matter how flawed, was not found.
In the shadowshe had no hesitation or embarrassment about talking to himself. The canopy of branches shielded him from the sky, the fields stretching off to his right absorbed his ideas, and the waters of the Nile, flowing past him on the left, swallowed his feelings. But he had to avoid the light. He needed to be careful not to get caught by its bright ring, for fear of having to take off like a circus wagon trailed by boys and curiosity seekers. Then he could kiss his reputation, dignity, and honor goodbye. He had two personalities. One was reserved for friends and lovers, the other presented to his family and the world. It was this second visage that sustained his distinction and respectability, guaranteeing him a status beyond normal aspirati
He saw the bridge with its glowing lights ahead of him and wondered where he should go. Since he wanted more solitude and darkness, he did not cross over but continued straight ahead, taking the Giza road.
“Yasin!” he exclaimed. “The thought of your eldest son alarms you. Your forehead burns with shame. Why? He'll be the first to understand you and make allowances for you. Or do you think he'll rejoice at your misfortunes and make fun of you? You've scolded him and criticized him for a long time, but his foot's never slipped into a pit like yours…. Kamal! From now on you'll have to wear a mask to keep him from discerning your guilt. Khadija? Aisha? They'll have to hang their heads low in the Shawkat family. ‘Zanuba's your father's wife!’ A wedding applauded only by buffoons…. In your breast live sinful longings. Select some other stage for them than this world. Is there not a kingdom of darkness beyond the mortal realm where you can satisfy your base cravings in peace? Examine the spider's web tomorrow and see what's left of the fly. Listen to the croaking of the frogs and the chirping of the crickets. How happy these creatures are! Burrow underground if you want to be joyous and carefree. On the surface of the earth you can find happiness only as al-Sayyid Ahmad. Spend the next evening with members of your family, all of them - your wife, Kamal, Yasin, Khadija, and Aisha. Then tell them what you plan to do, if you're able. If you can do that, then and only then marry Zanuba.
“Haniya! Do you remember how you cast her out, even though you loved her? You've never loved a woman as much. It seems, alas, thai: we lose our senses when we become middle-aged. Drink tonight till they have to carry you out. How I long for a drink! It seems you haven't had one since the year of the prophet Muhammad's birth. The bitter pains you've had to swallow this year could easily erase the happy benefits you've enjoyed throughout your lifetime.”
He pounded the earth with his stick and stopped walking. Fed up with the gloom, the stillness, and the tree-lined road, he desired the consolation of his friends. He was not a man who could tolerate being alone for any length of time. He was a member of a group, a part of the whole. In his friends' company, his problems would be solved as usual. He turned to go back to the bridge, but then his being rebelled with anger and disgust. In a strange voice racked by protest, pain, and resentment he said, “She spends a whole night out… in an unknown location, and then you agree to marry her.”
He was afflicted with contempt for himself, like a sharp pain in his chest and heart. “With her friend Yasmina! How absurd! No… she spent the night in the arms of a man she only left the next day after noon”. She had stayed with that fellow knowing full well when al-Sayyid Ahmad visited the houseboat. So what did that mean? Clearly her infatuation with the other man had made her forget the time.
“Eternal damnation! Or have you slipped so low she doesn't care whether you're upset or not? Spellbound fool! After that, how could you have spoken ingratiatingly to her? How could you have left her with a promise of marriage? You're a disgrace in this world and the next. Worry has put so much pressure on you that you don't seem to have noticed the horn with which you're crowning the family. It will dishonor them for generations to come. What do you expect people to say about this horn on your handsome forehead?
“Anger, loathing, blood, and tears will not atone for your surrender and your weakness. How she must be laughing at you now as she lies on her back in the houseboat. Perhaps she hasn't yet washed away the sweat ofthat man, who'll soon be laughing at you too…. What's the point of getting up tomorrow if everyone's going to be making fun of you? Confess your weakness to your friends and hear their raucous laughter and comments. ‘Attribute it to age and senility. Excuse it by saying he's experienced everything except the delight of sporting a cuckold's horns.’ Zubayda will say, ‘You refused to be my master and agreed to be my lute player's pimp.’ Jalila will declare, ‘You're not my brother; not even my sister.’ I ask the forbidding road, gloomy darkness, and aged trees to bear witness that I'm racing through the shadows, crying like a child. May I not sleep tonight before I humiliate the tyrant…. She turned you away! Why? Because she's tired of a life of sin… a sin from which she hadn't yet cleansed her body? Say rather that she can no longer bear you. That's sufficient. How hideous the pain is! But I deserve it for having worshipped her. When a person's doing penance for an ungodly deed, he may crush hishead by beating it against a wall. Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad thinkshe knows many things, but how ignorant he is….”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad passed the Zamalek Bridge once more and took the Imbaba road. He began to quicken his steps deliberately and stubbornly, for he was determined to wash away the ignominy staining him. Whenever pain bore down on him, he renewed his efforts, striking the ground with his stick as though walking on three legs.
The houseboat came in sight. There was a light shining from the window. His rage intensified, for he had regained his self-confidence along with his feelings of manliness and honor. He felt composed now that he had reached a decision. He went down the steps, crossed the wooden gangplank, and banged on the door with the end of his stick. He rapped violently until he heard a voice ask with alarm, “Who's there?”
“Me!” he answered forcefully.
The door opened, revealing her astonished face. She stepped aside to let him in as she mumbled, “Good news?”
He crossed into the sitting room. Once in the center, he whirled around and stared at her. She approached with a questioning look and stopped in front of him as she anxiously examined his scowling face. Then she said, “Good news, God willing. Why have you come back?”
With alarming restraint he answered, “Good news, praise God, as you'll learn.”
She did not speak but let her eyes ask the questions. So he continued: “I've come to tell you not to put any faith in what I said. The whole matter was just a foolish joke.”
Her torso slumped with disappointment. Her face expressed disbelief and resentment. Then she cried out, “ foolish joke'! Don't you know the difference between a silly prank and a binding word of honor?”
His face ever more glowering, he cautioned her, “When addressing me you'd better be polite. Women of your class earn their living in my home as maids.”
Staring him straight in the face, she screamed, “Have you returned to favor me with this thought? Why haven't you ever said thai: before? Why did you make promises to me, attempt to gain my affection, and ingratiate yourself with me? Do you ima-:gine talk like this will frighten me? I don't have time for foolish jokes.”
He waved his hand angrily at her to make her keep still and yelled, 'I've come to tell you that marrying a girl like you would be disgraceful and nothing but an anecdote for buffs of embarrassing jokes. They'll have fun with it. Since ideas like these fill your head, you're no longer fit to associate with me. It does me no good to frequent lunatics.”
As she listened, sparks of anger flew from her eyes, but she disappointed his hopes and did not lose her temper. Perhaps the sight of his fury frightened her.
In a softer tone than before, she said, “I won't force you to marry me. I told you what I was thinking and left the decision up to you. Now you want to go back on your promise. Do whatever you want. But there's no reason to revile and insult me. Let each of us go his way in peace.”
“Is this the most she'll do to hold on to you?” he asked himself. “Wouldn't it have been better if she'd dug her fingernails into you attempting to keep you? Recharge your anger from your pain.”
“Each of us will go his own way, but first I want to tell you bluntly what I think of you. I don't deny it was my idea to pursue you - perhaps because the soul occasionally feels a desperate craving for filthy things. You left the people you were happily serving so I could lift you up to this style of life. It doesn't surprise me that I haven't found with you the kind of love and respect] won from them, for trash only appreciates trash. The time's come for me to cease stooping down
Defeat was visible in her face, the defeat of a person afraid to release the fury pent up in her breast. In a trembling voice she muttered, “Goodbye. Go. Leave me in peace.”
Struggling with his pains, he said bitterly, “I've lowered and demeaned myself.”
At this point she lost control and shouted, “Enough! That'll do! Have mercy on this vile wretch, but beware of her. Remember how once you humbly kissed her hand. ‘Lowered and demeaned,’ huh? The truth is that you're getting old. I accepted you in spite of your age, and this is my reward….”
He waved his stick and shouted furiously, “Shut up, bitch! Hush, vile creature! Collect your clothes and leave.”
Raising her head jerkily, she shouted back, “Listen carefully to what I say. One more word from you, and I'll make such a row it'll resound throughout the houseboat, the road, and the riverfront until the entire police force arrives. Do you hear? I'm not some little morsel that's easily swallowed. I'm Zanuba!… May God repay me for my suffering. You go! This is my houseboat. The lease is in my name. Go peacefully before you're escorted out.”
He tarried indecisively for a bit, looking scornfully and derisively at her. Eventually, in order to avoid a scandal, he abandoned the idea of attempting anything rough, spat on the floor, and departed with long, steady steps.
101
HE WENT immediately to his friends and found Muhammad Iffat, Ali Abd al-Rahim, Ibrahim al-Far, and some of the others. As usual, he drank until intoxicated, but then he had some more. He laughed a lot and made the others roar with laughter. In the wee hours of the night he returned home and slept soundly. Once morning came, he anticipated a quiet day free from thought. Whenever his imagination conjured up a scene from the near or distant past he resolutely shut it out except for the one scene he gladly recalled, the final vignette recording his victory over the woman and himself. He asserted, “It's all over, praise God. I'm really going to be careful during what's left of my life.”