Palace of Desire

94

"Oh!" He suddenly exclaimed with warmth and passion on seeing A'ida emerge from the gate of her mansion. As usual late each afternoon, he was standing on the sidewalk of al-Abbasiya Street watching her house from a distance. The most he had been hoping for was a glimpse of her on a balcony or at a window. He wore an elegant gray suit, as though wishing to keep pace with the good weather, which the last days of March had graciously and cheerfully provided. The more hurt and despondent he felt, the more dapper his attire became. He had not set eyes on A'ida since she had quarreled with him in the gazebo. But life would not have been possible without this afternoon pilgrimage to al-Abbasiya, where he circled the mansion from afar with unflagging zeal. He would give free rein to his dreams and satisfy himself temporarily with contemplation of the shrine and a review of his memories.

In the first days of their separation the pain had almost driven him crazy, leaving him prey to delirious paranoia. Had it lasted any longer, it would have done him in. He had escaped from that dangerous initial stage by virtue of the despair long embedded in his soul. Pain had crept back into its residence deep inside him, where it carried on its traffic without disturbing his other vital functions, as though it were an organic part of his body or an essential faculty of his spirit. His agony was like a severe illness that lingers on as a chronic malady after its worst symptoms subside. He was not consoled. How could he find any consolation for love? It was the most exalted thing life had ever revealed to him. Since he believed deeply in love's immortality, he realized he would have to bear it patiently, as if destined to live out the rest of his days with an incurable illness.

When he suddenly saw her leave the mansion, this moan escaped him. His eyes watched her graceful gait, which he had wanted to see for such a long time, and his spirit danced with a rapture of affectionate excitement. The beloved turned right and proceeded along Palaces Street. Revolt flared up in his spirit, sweeping away the sense of defeat his soul had nourished for nearly three months. shocked him into a decision to cast his complaints at her feet regardless of the consequences. Without any hesitation he walked to Palaces Street. In the past he had spoken cautiously from fear of losing her. Now there was no further loss to fear. Moreover, the torment he had suffered during the last three months would hardly allow him to hesitate or retreat. A'fda soon noticed the approaching footsteps and turned to glance back when he was only a few steps behind her. But then she looked ahead again indifferently. He had not expected a gracious reception, but he reproached her, "Is this the way old friends greet each other?"

She responded by quickening her pace without even glancing at him. He lengthened his steps, deriving stubborn resolve from his pain. When he was almost beside her, he said, "Don't pretend you don't know me. That's unbearable. If you had any regard for fairness, there would be no need for this."

What he feared most was that she would ignore him until she reached her destination. But the melodious voice answered, "Please get away from me. Let me go in peace."

With humble determination he told her, "You will go on your way peacefully, but after we settle accounts."

In a voice that resounded clearly in the silence of the aristocratic street, which seemed almost deserted, she replied, "I don't know what accounts you're talking about and don't want to know. I wish you'd act like a gentleman."

With fervent passion he said, "I promise to conduct myself in a fashion exemplary even for a gentleman. I couldn't act otherwise, since you inspire me in everything I do."

Without ever looking his way she retorted, "I mean you should leave me in peace. That's what I want."

"I can't. I can't until you pronounce me innocent of the false charges for which you've punished me without listening to my defense."

"I'm punishing you?"

He paused for a fleeting instant to enjoy the magic of that moment, for she had agreed to debate with him and to slow her happy stride. Did she want to listen to him or was she deliberately giving herself more time to get rid of him before she reached her destination? In either case it was a dazzling fact that they were walking side by side along Palaces Street. The lofty trees there sheltered them and, from beyond the walls of the mansions, calm narcissus eyes and smiling jasmine mouths followed the couple's progress in a stillness profound enough to soothe his burning heart, if he could only have absorbed it.

He said, "You have punished me cruelly by disappearing for three whole months while I, although innocent, have suffered countless torments."

"Let's not rehash that."

Passionately and humbly he replied, "But we must. I'm determined to. I beg you in the name of the agony I've endured for so long that I lack the strength to suffer anymore."

She asked quietly, "How is that my fault?"

"I want to know whether you still consider me an adversary. One thing that's certain is that I could never harm you under any circumstances. If you would just consider my affection for you over the past years you would embrace my viewpoint without any hesitation. Let me tell you the whole story with total candor. After our conversation in the gazebo, Hasan Salim asked me to have a talk with him."

She interrupted him almost imploringly: "Let's drop this. It's over, finished."

This last sentence had the impact on him that laments at a funeral would make on a dead man if he could hear. Then, touched in a way that showed itself in his voice, where it was like a song dropping down an octave to an answering voice, he said, "Finished… I know it's finished, but I would like it to have a positive ending. I don't want you to leave thinking me a traitor or a slanderer. I'm innocent, and it's awful when you think ill of a person who harbors for you… harbors for you nothing but veneration and respect and whose every reference to you is coated with praise."

Leaning her head in the other direction, she cast him a look as if to ask teasingly, "When did you become so eloquent?" Then almost tenderly she said, "It seems there's been a misunderstanding. But that's all in the past."

Eagerly and hopefully he said, "It seems that you're still a little skeptical."

Griving in, she answered, "No, but I won't deny that I thought ill of you for a time. The truth only became clear afterwards."

His heart floated high over a cloud of happiness and swayed tipsily above it. He asked, "When did you learn that?"

"Quite a while ago."

He gazed at her with gratitude, so moved by love he felt like crying. Then he said, "You learned I'm innocent?"

"Yes."

Was Hasan Salim going to regain his good reputation? "How did you learn the truth?"

She said quickly and in a way that showed she wanted to end this interrogation, "I learned it. That's the important thing."

He did not insist, for fear of annoying her, but a thought crossed his mind. Sorrow clouded his heart, and he said plaintively, "Even so, you continued to hide yourself You didn't bother to announce the pardon with a sign or a word, although you were able to express your anger most expertly. But your excuse is obvious and I accept it."

"What excuse is that?"

With a sorrowful voice he replied, "That you haven't ever known pain. I ask God most sincerely that you never will."

She said apologetically, "I thought you didn't care whether you were accused."

"May God forgive you. I cared more than you can imagine. It hurt me dreadfully to find the gap between us so vast. The problem wasn't merely your disinterest in the… affection I feel for you. It was also the unfair charges lodged against me. So consider your position and mine. But I'll tell you frankly that the unjust accusation was not responsible for my worst pains She smiled and asked, "So there wasn't just one type of pain?"

Encouraged by her smile as if he were a small child, he proceeded to pour out the story of his devotion. He said passionately, "No. Your accusation caused the least of my pains, and your disappearance the greatest. Each hour out of the past three months has witnessed some moment of pain. The way I've lived, I could easily have been considered insane. So I mean and know what I'm saying when I pray that God will not test you with pain. I've learned from my own experience. What a cruel time it's been! It's convinced me that if you're destined to disappear from my life, I might as well search for another existence. It was like a long, odious curse. Don't make fun of me. I'm always afraid you will. But pain's too exalted l: o be mocked. I don't picture a generous angel like you joking about the afflictions of other people. And of course you're the cause too. But what can a person do? It's been my fate to love you with all the force of my being."

The silence that followed was broken only by his irregular breathing. She was looking straight ahead, and he could not search her eyes. He was comforted by her silence, for it was easier to bear than a careless word. So he considered it a triumph.

"Imagine hearing her voice soft and sweet expressing the very same feelings…."

He was crazy. Why had he released the floodwaters dammed up in his heart? He was like a vaulter who keeps trying to go just a foot higher only to find himself soaring high into the heavens. But what force could muzzle him after this?

"Don't remind me of things I hate to hear, for I've had my fill of that. I won't forget my head, for I carry it with me night and day, or my nose, for I see it repeatedly each day. But I've got something no one else comes close to possessing. My love for you is unequaled, and I'm proud of it. You should be too, even if you spurn it. I've felt this way ever since I saw you the first time in the garden. Haven't you been conscious of it? I haven't thought about confessing it before now, because I was afraid of spoiling our friendship and of being expelled from paradise. It was hideously difficult for me to consider risking my happiness. But now that I've been evicted, what do I have to fear?"

His secret flowed out of him like blood from a wound. He saw nothing in all of existence except her extraordinary person. The road, trees, mansions, and the few passers by vanished into a dense fog with only one gap through which his silent beloved could be seen with her slender build, halo of black hair, and a profile that openly revealed its grace while concealing its secrets. In the twilight shadows her face seemed a pure brown, but when they crossed a side street it was radiant and bright from the rays of the setting sun. He could have kept on talking until morning.

"Did I say I'd never considered confessing my love to you before? That's not quite true. The fact is, I started the day we met in the gazebo when Husayn was called to the telephone. I almost told you then, but before I could, you began attacking my head and nose". He laughed briefly before continuing: "I was like an orator who opens his mouth only to be showered with pebbles by the audience."

She was calm and silent. That was fitting. An angel from another world should not converse in a mortal tongue or take an interest in human affairs. Would it not have been nobler of him to guard his secret? Nobler? Pride vis-a-vis the beloved was blasphemy. For the assassin to be confronted with her victim was only proper.

"Do you remember your happy dream that left you in tears when you awoke? Dreams are quickly forgotten, but tears or rather the memory of them may become an immortal symbol."

Here she was saying, "I was only joking when I said those things, and I asked you then not to get angry."

This refreshing sensation deserved to be savored. It resembled the happy delight one feels after a throbbing toothache. The melodies latent within him echoed each other until a beautiful tune emerged. His beloved's features seemed the musical notation from which he was reading a heavenly composition.

"You'll find I'm content with hoping for nothing, because as I told you I love you."

With her natural grace she cast him a smiling look but withdrew it too quickly for him to decipher it. What kind of look had it been? Was she pleased, moved, affectionate, responsive, or politely sarcastic? Had she bestowed it on his face as a whole or directed it toward his head and nose?

Then her voice followed this look: "I can only thank you and apologize for unintentionally causing you pain. You're kind and generous."

His soul was ready to convey him to the warm embrace of happy dreams, but she added in a faint voice, "Now let me ask what follows from this."

Was he hearing the voice of his beloved or an echo of his own? This very sentence was soaring somewhere over Palace Walk, borne aloft by his sighs. Had the time come for him to find an answer for this question?

He asked anxiously, "Does something follow from love?"

"She's smiling," he thought. "I wonder what this smile means. But you want something more than a smile."

She answered, "The declaration is the beginning, not the end. I'd like to know what you want."

Still anxious, he said, "I want… I want you to give me permission to Jove you."

She could not hold back her laughter. She inquired, "Is this really what you want? But what will you do if I refuse?"

Sighing, he replied, "In that case, I'll love you anyway." In a half-joking manner that upset him she asked, "What's the point of the permission then?"

How absurd it was when words betrayed a person and came out wrong…. What he feared most was falling back to earth as suddenly as he had risen from it. He heard her say, "You perplex nie. It seems to me that you even perplex yourself."

He answered uneasily, "Me… perplexed? Perhaps, but I love you. 'What follows from this?' I imagine occasionally that I aspire to things beyond the earth's capacities. But when I reflect a little, I'm unable to ascertain what my goal is. You tell me what this means.1 want you to talk while I listen. Can you rescue me from my dilemma?"

She said with a smile, "I don't have anything to offer in this regard. You ought to be the speaker. I'll do the listening. Aren't you a philosopher?"

His face turning red, he commented dejectedly, "You're making fun of me."

She was quick to answer, "No. But I wasn't anticipating a conversation like this when I left my house. You caught me by surprise, telling me things I wasn't expecting to hear. In any case, I'm thankful and grateful. No one would be able to forget your tender and refined affection. It would be out of the question to make fun of them."

It was a captivating tune with sweet lyrics. Yet he did not know whether the beloved was being serious or frivolous. Were the portals of hope opening… or closing with the gentleness of a breeze? When she had asked him what he wanted, he had not replied, because he had not known what he did want. Would it be wrong to say that he longed for communion, the communion of one spirit with another? Should he knock at the mysterious closed door with a hug or a kiss? Shouldn't that be the answer?

At the intersection where Palaces Street ended, A'ida stopped and said gently but decisively, "Here!"

He stopped walking too and gazed at her face with astonishment. " 'Here' meaning we must part here?" he wondered. "The sentence love you' is not far-reaching enough to rule out questions."

With no deliberation or thought, he exclaimed, "No!" Then, as though he had suddenly seen the light, he cried out, "What's the point of love? Wasn't that what you were really asking? Here's an answer for you: that we don't part."

With a calm smile, she replied, "But we must part now."

He asked fervently, "Without any displeasure or ill feelings?"

"Absolutely not."

"Will you resume your visits to the gazebo?"

"If circumstances permit."

He anxiously reminded her, "Circumstances permitted it in the past."

"Things are different now."

He was deeply hurt by her response and said, "It seems you won't return."

As though to remind him of the necessity of parting, she said, "I'll visit the gazebo whenever circumstances allow it. Have a happy day."

She set off in the direction of School Street. He stood there gazing after her as though she were a dream vision. When a turn in the road was about to hide her, she looked back with a smile. Then she vanished from sight.

What had he said and heard? He would concentrate on all that shortly, after he came to. When would that be? He was walking all by himself. Alone? … What of the pounding of his heart, the delirium of his spirit, and the echoes of that melody? All the same, a feeling of isolation shook his heart to its core. The captivating, enchanting fragrance of jasmine overwhelmed him, but what was its special ingredient? This fragrance and love were similar in their mysterious and captivating enchantment. Perhaps penetration of one's secret would lead to discovery of the other's. Yet he would not solve this puzzle until he finished reciting all the anthems of bewilderment.