Palace Walk

40

Three automobiles proffered by friends of al-Sayyid Ahmad stopped in front of his house to wait for the bride and her party, whom they were to convey to the Shawkat residence in Sugar Street, or al-Sukkariya. It was late in the afternoon. The rays of the summer sun had withdrawn from the street and were resting on the houses opposite the bride’s home. There was no hint of a wedding there, except for the roses decorating the lead vehicle. These caught the eyes of the nearby shop owners and of many of the passers by.

The engagement had been arranged previously. The presents had arrived. The trousseau had been sent. The marriage contract had been signed. At no time during all of this had there been any ululations of joy from the house, any decorations on the door, or any other of the customary signs of a wedding to reveal what was going on inside. Families were usually proud to make a display on such occasions, using weddings as an excuse to express their concealed longing for delight with song, dance, and shrieks of joy.

Everything had been concluded in calm silence. No one knew about the marriage except for relatives and friends and a select group of neighbors. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had refused to budge from his sense of decorum or to allow any member of his family to escape from it even for an hour. Consequently, accompanied by the women of her family, the bride left the house in silence despite the protestations of Umm Hanafi. Aisha dashed for the automobile at breakneck speed, as though she feared that the eyes of the onlookers might scorch her wedding gown or her white silk tiara and veil, which were decorated with different varieties of jasmine. Khadija and Maryam followed her, together with some other girls. The mother and women relatives and neighbors found their places in the other automobiles. Meanwhile Kamal took his seat beside the driver of the bride’s car.

The mother wanted the procession to pass by al-Husayn so she could have a fresh look at his shrine, which her desire to see had cost her so dearly once before. She wished to ask al-Husayn’s blessing on her beautiful bride. The automobiles went along the streets she had taken that day with Kamal. Afterward they turned into al-Ghuriya at the corner where she had almost met her death. Finally they dropped their passengers at Mutawalli Gate in front of the entrance to Sugar Street, which was too narrow for cars to enter. They all dismounted and entered the alley, where wedding decorations could be seen. The boys of the district rushed toward them while screams and trills resounded from the Shawkat residence, the first house on the right as they entered the alley. The windows of the house were crowded with the heads of people peering down and trilling with joy. The bridegroom, Khalil Shawkat, stood at the entrance with his brother Ibrahim Shawkat as well as Yasin and Fahmy. Khalil smilingly approached the bride and offered her his arm. She did not know what to do and would not have moved if Maryam had not taken her arm and put it around his. Then he escorted her inside. They passed by the crowded courtyard as roses and sweets were showered at the bride’s feet and those of the bridal party until the women disappeared behind the door of the women’s quarters.

Although the marriage contract for Aisha and Khalil had been signed a month or more earlier, the sight of their arms being intertwined and of them walking side by side affected Yasin and Fahmy, and especially the latter, with an astonishment mixed with embarrassment and a feeling almost of disapproval. The family code did not seem to make any exception for wedding ceremonies conducted in full accord with Islamic law. This reaction was even more pronounced in Kamal, who pulled on his mother’s hand in alarm and pointed to the bridal couple preceding everyone else up the stairs. He seemed to be appealing to her to prevent an outrageous evil.

The two young men wanted to steal a look at their father’s face to see what effect that rare sight had on him. They quickly looked all around but found no trace of him. He was not at the entrance or in the adjacent courtyard, where benches and chairs were arranged in rows with a platform up in front for the singers. The fact was that al-Sayyid Ahmad had shut himself up with some of his best friends in a reception room opening on the courtyard and had not left it since he had set foot in the house. He was determined to stay there until the evening was concluded. He wanted to keep some distance between himself and the "masses" clamoring around outside. Nothing made him so uncomfortable as to be with his family at a wedding party. He did not want to impose his supervision on them at a time set aside for delight and did not care to observe at close hand their relaxed response to a festive occasion. What he hated most of all was for any of them to see him lapse from the stern dignity to which they were accustomed. If the matter had been left to him, the wedding would have been carried out in complete silence. The widow of the late Mr. Shawkat had met his suggestion with totally inflexible opposition. She had refused for the bride to be welcomed to her home with anything less than a gala evening party. For the entertainment she had hired the female vocalist Jalila and the male vocalist Sabir.

Kamal was so ecstatic with the freedom and enjoyment he was allowed that he could have been the bridegroom. He was one of the few individuals permitted to move freely back and forth between the women’s section inside and the men’s area in the courtyard by the stage. He stayed for a long time with his mother, gazing at the women’s ornaments and jewelry and listening to their jokes and conversations, which were dominated by the topic of marriage. He also heard the performer Jalila there. She sat at the front of the hall, resembling in both her huge size and her ornamentation the ceremonial camel litter sent with the pilgrims to Mecca. She proceeded to sing some popular songs, while openly drinking wine.

The jovial atmosphere was strange and attractive to Kamal, and he felt very comfortable. The most important thing of all to him was Aisha, who was dressed up more magnificently than he had ever dreamed possible. His mother encouraged him to stay with her so she could keep an eye on him. After a time she changed her mind and was forced, for reasons she had not anticipated, to urge him in a whisper to go find his brothers. One reason was his intense interest in Aisha, now with her dress and the next time with her ornaments. Amina was afraid he would spoil her outfit. Then, too, he let some childishly frank observations slip out concerning some of the ladies present. For example, one time he pointed to a woman from the bridegroom’s family and called out to his mother, "Look at the nose of that lady, Mother. Isn't it bigger than Khadija's?"

When Jalila was singing he had surprised everyone by joining with the troupe in the chorus: "Beautiful dove… where can I find her?" The performer had invited him to sit with the members of her ensemble. In this way and in others he had attracted a lot of attention, and the women had begun teasing him. His mother was not comfortable with the commotion he was causing. Apprehensive that he might upset some people and worried that he might be admired more than was safe for him, she reluctantly chose to have him leave the room to join the men’s party.

He wandered among the rows of chairs and then stood between Fahmy and Yasin until Sabir had finished singing "You beauty, why are you already in love?" Then Kamal started roving around again. When he passed by the reception room, his curiosity prompted him to have a look inside. He poked his head in and before he knew it his eyes met his father's. Kamal felt nailed to the spot and unable to turn his eyes away. One of his father’s friends, al-Sayyid Muhammad Iffat, saw him and called him. To avoid angering his father, he found himself forced to obey this summons. He approached the man fearfully and reluctantly and stood before him, straight as a ramrod with his arms at his sides, as though a soldier at attention. The man shook his hand and said, "God’s will be done… what year in school are you, Uncle?"

"Third year, fourth section…"

"Splendid… splendid… Did you hear Sabir sing?"

Although the boy was answering Muhammad Iffat, he had been careful from the beginning to answer in a way that would please his father. He did not know how to reply to the last question or at least he hesitated. The man took pity on him and quickly asked, "Don't you like singing?"

The boy said emphatically, "Certainly not".

It was clear that some of the men present planned to make a joke about this response, the last they would have expected from a person related to Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, but their host cautioned them against it with his eyes, and they kept quiet.

Then Mr. Muhammad Iffat asked Kamal, "Isn't there something you like to listen to?"

Looking at his father, Kamal said, "The Holy Qur'an".

Expressions of approval were heard and the boy was allowed to depart. Thus he did not get to hear what was said about him behind his back. Al-Sayyid al-Far laughed out loud and commented, "If that’s true, the boy’s a bastard".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad laughed and, pointing to where Kamal had been standing, said, "Have you seen anyone craftier than that son of a bitch, pretending to be pious in front of me?… One time when I got home, I heard him singing 'O bird, you up in the tree.'"

Al-Sayyid Ali observed, "Oh, you should have seen him standing between his two brothers and listening to Sabir with his lips moving as he sang along, keeping time perfectly, even better than Ahmad Abd al-Jawad himself".

Then Muhammad Iffat addressed an inquiry to al-Sayyid Ahmad: "The important thing is to tell us whether you liked his voice when he sang 'O bird, you up in the tree.'"

Al-Sayyid Ahmad laughed. Pointing at himself, he said, "He’s this lion’s cub".

Al-Far cried out, "God have mercy on the lioness who gave birth to you".

Kamal escaped from the reception room to the alley. He seemed to be awakening from a nightmare. He stood amid the crowd of boys on the street. He soon recovered his spirits and walked along, proud of his new clothes, delighted with his freedom that allowed him to go anywhere he wanted, except for the frightening reception room. There was no one to restrict or supervise him. What a historic night for him! Only one thing troubled his serenity whenever he thought of it. That was Aisha’s moving to this house, which they had begun referring to as her home. This move had been accomplished in spite of him, without anyone being able to convince him that it was right or beneficial. He had asked repeatedly how his father could allow it, since he would not allow even the shadow of one of his women to be seen through the crack of a window. The only answer he received was loud laughter. He had asked his mother critically how she could do something so extreme as giving Aisha away. She had told him he would grow up one day and take a girl like her from her father’s house, and that she would be escorted to his house with cries of joy.

Kamal had asked Aisha if she was really happy about leaving them. She had said no, but the trousseau had been carried to the stranger’s house. Aisha, whose place on the cup was Kamal’s favorite, had followed her trousseau. Although it was true that the present festivities were helping him forget things he had thought he would be unable to forget even for a moment, sorrow veiled his cheerful heart like a small cloud passing in front of the moon on a clear night.

It was interesting that his pleasure in the singing that night surpassed his other pleasures, like playing with the boys, observing the women and the men having a good time, or even eating the "palace" bread pudding and the fancy gelatin dessert at supper. All the men and women who noticed him were astonished at the serious interest he took in listening to Jalila and Sabir. It seemed unusual for a child his age, but no one in his family who knew his background in music as Aisha’s student was surprised. He had a fine voice, which was considered second in the family only to Aisha's, although their father’s voice, which they had only heard screaming, was the best of all. Kamal listened for a long time to both Jalila and Sabir. He found to his surprise that he preferred the singing of the male vocalist and the music of his troupe. They made a greater impact on his heart. Some lines from their songs stuck in his memory, like "Why are you in love?… Because that’s the way it is". After the night of the wedding, he frequently repeated these lines in the hyacinth bean and jasmine bower on the roof of their home.

Amina and Khadija also enjoyed some of the same delights and freedom as Kamal. Like him, neither of them had ever witnessed an evening so filled with fellowship, music, and merriment. Amina was especially delighted by the attention and flattery she received as mother of the bride, since she had never before been afforded either. Even Khadija’s grief disappeared in the festive lights just as the gloom of night gives way to morning’s radiance. She forgot her sorrows under the influence of soft laughter, sweet tunes, and pleasant conversation. It was all the easier for her to forget, because she had a new sorrow, an innocent one that arose from her feeling of regret over Aisha’s imminent departure. This feeling engendered sincere love and affection. Her former sorrows were obscured by this new one, just as feelings of animosity may be obliterated by generosity. Similarly, a person who both loves and hates someone may find that the sorrow of parting obscures the hatred, leaving only the love. Moreover, Khadija felt a new confidence in herself from appearing with makeup and fine clothes that attracted the attention of some of the women, who praised her enthusiastically. Their praise filled her with hope and dreams and provided her some happy moments.

Yasin and Fahmy sat side by side, alternately chatting and listening to the music. Khalil Shawkat, the bridegroom, joined them from time to time, whenever he had a break from the duties of his enjoyable but taxing evening. In spite of the atmosphere of celebration and delight, Yasin was rather anxious. There was a lingering, vacant look in his eyes. He would ask himself occasionally whether it would be all right for him to quench his thirst, if only with a glass or two of wine. For that reason, he leaned toward their friend Khalil Shawkat and whispered, "Rescue me before the whole evening is lost".

The young man reassured him with a wink of his eye and said, "I've set aside a table in a private room for friends like you".

Yasin was cheered by that, and his interest in conversation, jokes, and music revived. He did not intend to get drunk, for in a place like this, overflowing with family and acquaintances, even a little wine had to be considered a great victory. Although his father was secluded in the reception room, he was not far away. Yasin’s penetration of his father’s secrets did not shake the man’s traditional authority over him. Al-Sayyid Ahmad continued to occupy his heavily fortified stronghold of awe and reverence, and Yasin had not stirred from his own position of obedience and veneration. He had not even thought of revealing his father’s secret, which he had discovered surreptitiously, to anyone, not even to Fahmy. For all these reasons, Yasin was at first satisfied with a glass or two with which to cajole his unruly appetite. It would help prepare him to enjoy the merriment, conversations, music, and other pleasures that lost their savor for him without wine.

Unlike Yasin, Fahmy did not find and doubted he ever would find anything to quench his thirst. His grief had been aroused unexpectedly by the arrival of the bride. He had gone with the bridegroom and Yasin to welcome her with a carefree heart. Then he had seen Maryam walking directly behind the bride. Her mouth was resplendent with a smile of greeting for everyone. Distracted by the trills of joy and the roses, she did not notice him. Her silk veil was so sheer that the clear complexion of her face was visible. He had followed her with his eyes, his heart pounding, until she disappeared behind the door to the women’s quarters. He returned to his seat as shaken as a skiff suddenly caught in a violent storm. Before he saw her, he had been calm, apparently distracted enough by conversation to have forgotten everything. In fact, long periods would pass when he was in this oblivious, forgetful state, while his heart became a reservoir for his suffering. The moment a thought occurred to him, a memory stirred, someone mentioned her name, or anything similar happened, his heart would throb with pain and exude one grief after another. It was like a decayed tooth with an inflamed gum. For a time the toothache may die down until the tooth presses against a morsel of food or touches a solid object. Then the pain erupts. Thus Fahmy’s love would beat against his ribs from the inside as though craving a breath of air, shouting at the top of its lungs that it was still a prisoner. No amount of consolation or forgetfulness had set it free.

He often hoped she would remain invisible to other suitors until he could get established as a free man, acting and deciding his own fate. As days, weeks, and months passed without a suitor asking for her hand, it seemed his wish had been granted, but he did not enjoy any real peace of mind. He was prey to anxiety and fear, which took turns, time and again, ruffling his serenity, spoiling his dreams, and conjuring up for him many different types of pain and jealousy, which although imaginary were no less ferocious and cruel than if his fears had been realized. Even this desire itself and the delay in the occurrence of the misfortune became incentives for more anxiety and fear and consequently for pain and jealousy. Whenever his torment was severe, he wished the calamity would take place so he could receive his share of grief all in one blow. Perhaps afterward, through his despair, he could attain the tranquillity and repose he had not been able to achieve through his pipe dreams.

He could not yield to his emotions at a musical soiree where he was surrounded by the looks of friends and relatives. Yet the impact the sight of Maryam had made on him as she walked behind his sister could not pass without provoking some noticeable reaction. Since Fahmy was not able to brood about his sorrows or reveal his hidden emotions, he softened their impact by going to the other extreme. He talked, laughed, and pretended to be blissfully happy, but whenever he had even a moment to himself, he felt deep inside the alienation of his heart from everything around him. With the passing of time he realized that the sight of Maryam walking in the bridal court had aroused his love the way a sudden racket decisively arouses an anxious person with a tendency toward insomnia. For that evening at least, Fahmy would be unable to enjoy any peace of mind. Nothing happening around him would be able to remove from his mind her image or the smile with which she responded to the warm welcome composed of trills of joy and roses. It was a pure, sweet smile, suggestive of a carefree heart aspiring to calm and happiness. It was a smile that seemed too pretty ever to be replaced by a grimace of pain. The sight of her ripped into his heart, disclosing to him that only he was suffering. He alone bore his troubles. But had he not been laughing boisterously just now and moving his head to the music as though he was happy and glad? Was it not possible that someone looking at him might be deceived and think the same thing of him that he did of her? He derived some consolation from that thought but was no more convinced than a typhoid patient who asks himself, "Isn't it likely that I'll recover the way so-and-so did?"

Fahmy remembered her message Kamal had brought him some months before: "Tell him that she won't know what to do if a suitor asks to marry her during this long period of waiting". He asked himself, as he had tens of times before, whether any emotion lay behind those words? Indeed, no man, no matter how obstinate, could blame her for a single one of them. Nor could he overlook the good sense and wisdom they contained. Yet, for this very reason, he felt powerless against them and hated them. Good sense and wisdom are seldom happy with the impetuousness of emotion, which characteristically knows no limits.

Fahmy returned to the present, to the musical evening, and his raging love. It was not merely the sight of her that had rocked him so violently. Perhaps seeing her for the first time in a new place had done it. She had been here in the courtyard of the Shawkat residence, far removed from his house. He had never seen her in any other area before. For her to remain put in the old location established her in the mechanical daily routine, whereas her sudden appearance in a new place recreated her before his eyes and gave her a new existence in his consciousness, which in turn reawakened her original, latent presence in his mind. Both old and new visions of her had joined together to create this violent jolt. Moreover, her former existence linked to his house was separated from him by a wall of despair created by the stern rules of his family. Here, far removed from that house, her new existence was attended by a feeling of freedom and liberation as well as a spirit of parade and vivacity unknown to him. Her new existence was in the context of a wedding and thoughts of love and union. All of these circumstances helped to free her from her confinement atop a pedestal. Now his heart could see her as a possible goal. She seemed to be telling him, "Look where I am now. Just one more step and you'll find me in your arms". This hope soon collided with the thorny reality, helping create his violent jolt. Perhaps the sight of her in this new location also worked to establish her even more firmly in his soul, embed her in his life, and fix her in his memories. Images penetrate more deeply into us when they are associated with the different places we know from our experiences. Previously Maryam was associated with the roof of his house, the arbor of hyacinth beans and jasmine, Kamal, listening to his English lesson, the coffee hour, and talking to his mother in the study, and the message Kamal brought back from her. Henceforth she would be associated with Sugar Street, the courtyard of the Shawkat residence, the evening’s musical entertainment, the singing of Sabir, Aisha’s wedding procession, and everything else that was crowding in through his senses. Such a transformation could not occur without adding to the violent shock that had stunned him.

During one of Sabir’s intermissions, the voice of the female vocalist happened to carry through the windows overlooking the courtyard so the men could hear her? She was singing "My lover’s departed". Fahmy set about listening eagerly and with enormous interest. He concentrated all of his attention on absorbing the music, not because he particularly liked Jalila’s voice, but because he thought Maryam would be listening to her at that moment. The lyrics would be speaking to both of them at the same time. Jalila united the two of them in a single experience of listening and possibly of feeling. She had created an occasion for their spirits to meet. All of these considerations made him revere her voice and love her song. He wished to share this one sensation with Maryam. He tried for a long time to get through to her soul by retreating deep into himself. He sought to contact the vibrations of her reactions by following his own. Notwithstanding the distance and the thick walls separating them, he wished to live for a few moments inside her essence. To accomplish this, he attempted to determine from the lyrics the effect they would have on his beloved’s soul. What would her response be to "My lover’s departed" or "It’s a long time since he sent me a letter"? Had she been lost in a sea of memories? Had not at least one of those waves slipped away to reveal his face? Had not her heart felt a stabbing pain or a piercing grief? Or was she in such a daze throughout that she saw nothing in the song but enjoyable music?

Fahmy imagined her listening attentively to the music, free of her veil, parading her vitality, or her mouth parted in a smile like the one he had glimpsed when she arrived, which had upset him since he had inferred from it that she had forgotten him. She might be talking to one of his sisters as she frequently enjoyed doing. He envied his sisters that privilege, which would daze him to the point of panic, whereas they regarded it as an ordinary conversation like any they conducted with girls in the neighborhood. Indeed, he had frequently been amazed by his sisters' attitude toward her, not because they took an interest in her, for they did love her, but because they loved her exactly the same way they did the other girls in the neighborhood, as though she was just some girl. How could they greet her without getting flustered and do it in an ordinary manner, the way he greeted any passing girl or his fellow law students? How could they talk about her and say, "Maryam said this" or "Maryam did that" and pronounce the name like any other one, Umm Hanafi, for example? Hers was a name he had only pronounced once or twice in someone else’s presence. Then he had been amazed by its impact on him. When he was alone, he would only repeat her name as though it were one of the venerable names of Muslim saints engraved in his imagination along with the ornamentation provided by legends. These were names he would not pronounce without immediately adding one of the appropriate religious formulas: "May God be pleased with him" or "Peace on him". How could he explain that not merely the name but even Maryam herself lacked any magic or sanctity for his sisters?

When Jalila finished singing, there were shouts of appreciation and applause. Fahmy concentrated on that with even greater interest than he had given the song, since Maryam’s voice and hands were participating. He wished it was possible for him to make out her voice among all the others and to isolate her clapping from all the rest, but that was no easier than distinguishing the sound of one wave from the roar of all those beating against the shore. So he responded lovingly to the cries of applause and the clapping without distinction, as a mother prays for blessings and peace collectively when she hears the voices of pupils from a school her son attends.

Although their reasons differed, no one so resembled Fahmy in his inner isolation as his father, who did not leave the chamber where he was surrounded by some of his very best friends. Some companions had not been able to endure the sober atmosphere in there when music was resounding outside. They had broken away from his circle to scatter among the listeners where they could enjoy the music and have a good time. The only people left with al-Sayyid Ahmad were those who loved his company even more than having a good time. They all observed an unaccustomed solemnity as though performing a duty or attending a funeral. These old friends had understood in advance it would be like this when he had invited them to the wedding. They knew from experience that there were two sides to his character. One was reserved for his friends and the other was for his family. There was a paradoxical contradiction between this somber behavior with which they were celebrating a wedding and their boisterous nightly reunions when they had nothing to celebrate. They did not hesitate to joke about their dignified conduct, but in a calm and delicate manner. When Mr. Iffat’s voice was raised in laughter once, Mr. al-Far put his finger to his lips as though warning him to lower his voice. He whispered in his ear to caution and scold him: "We're at a wedding, man".

Another time, when they had been silent for a while, Mr. Ali looked around at their faces and, raising his hand to his head, congratulated them: "May God thank you for your effort".

At that, al-Sayyid Ahmad asked them to join their other friends outside and have fun, but Mr. Iffat told him in a critical tone of voice, "Should we leave you alone on a night like this? Do you know who your friends are until you're in need?"

Al-Sayyid Ahmad could not keep from laughing. He commented, "It will only take a few more wedding nights before God forgives all of us".

A wedding had other ramifications beyond mandatory solemnity at a party devoted to merrymaking and music. There were implications for him in particular as a father with an unusual temperament. He had ambivalent feelings about his daughter’s marriage. He was not comfortable about it, even though reason and religion did not support his position. It was not that he did not wish for his two daughters to marry. Like all other fathers, he wished to protect his daughters, but would have preferred that marriage was not the only way to provide this protection. He may even have wished that God had created girls in a manner that made marriage unnecessary or that he had never had any daughters. Since his wishes had not been and could not be fulfilled, he was forced to hope his daughters would marry, like a man who longs for an honorable or painless death, since he knows life cannot last forever.

Al-Sayyid Ahmad had often expressed his reluctance in many different ways, both conscious and unconscious. He would tell some of his loyal friends, "You ask me about fathering females? It’s an evil against which we are defenseless, but let us thank God. In any case, it’s a duty. This is not to say that I don't love my daughters. In fact, I love them as much as I do Yasin, Fahmy, and Kamal, each equally. But how can my mind be at rest when I know that I will carry them to a stranger one day. However attractive he may seem on the outside, only God knows what’s inside him. What can a weak girl do when she’s faced by a strange man far from the supervision of her father? What will her fate be if her husband divorces her one day, after her father has died? She must take refuge in her brother’s house to endure a life of neglect. I'm not afraid for any of my sons. No matter what happens to one of them, he’s a man and is able to confront life. But a girl… my God, preserve us".

He might say with apparent candor, "A girl is really a problem… Don't you see that we spare no effort to discipline, train, preserve, and care for her? But don't you also see that after all of this we ourselves hand her over to a stranger and let him do as he wishes with her? Praise to God who alone is praised for adversity".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad’s anxious and ambivalent feelings found expression in the critical attitude he adopted toward Khalil Shawkat, the bridegroom. It was a harsh, faultfinding attitude that kept searching to discover some defect to satisfy its obstinacy. Khalil seemed not to count as a member of the Shawkat family, which had been bound to his own family by ties of affection and friendship for more than a generation. He seemed not to be the young man whose manliness, good looks, and honor were attested to by everyone who knew him. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was not able to deny the boy’s good qualities but hesitated for a long time over his full face and the calm, heavy look of his eyes that seemed indicative of laziness. He was pleased to infer from these signs that he was sluggish. The gentleman told himself, "He’s nothing but a bull, living only to eat and sleep". His recognition of the young man’s good qualities followed by his search for any defect was an emotional dialectic reflecting al-Sayyid Ahmad’s latent emotions. He both desired the girl to get married and detested the idea of marriage. His acknowledgment of Khalil’s qualities had made it possible for the marriage to take place. His search for Khalil’s defects helped relieve his hostilities toward the marriage. He was like an opium addict, enslaved by its pleasures and terrified by its danger, searching for it by any means, while cursing it. For the moment, al-Sayyid Ahmad ignored his ambivalent feelings. He was surrounded by his best friends and consoled himself alternately with conversing and listening to the distant music. He allowed contentment and joy a place in his heart and prayed that his daughter would be happy and lead a tranquil life. Even his critical attitude toward Khalil Shawkat was reduced to a scornful feeling free of any rancor.

When the guests were invited to the dinner tables, Fahmy and Yasin were separated for the first time. Khalil Shawkat conducted the latter to a special table where wine was in ample supply. Conscious of the possible consequences, Yasin was cautious at first. He announced that two glasses were enough for him. He resisted with courage (or was it cowardice?) the freely flowing wine, until he reached the first stage of intoxication. Then his memories of the pleasures of drunkenness were stirred, and his willpower weakened. He wanted to get more intoxicated without exceeding the limits of safety. He had a third glass and fled from the table, although he took the precaution of hiding a half-filled bottle in a secret place so he could retrieve it if there was a pressing need. He kept one eye on paradise, while the other was peering down at hell. The young men returned to their seats with vibrant new spirits that imparted to the atmosphere a delight freed from restrictions.

In the women’s quarters, intoxication had gained firm control over the performer Jalila. She started looking around at the faces of the women in the audience, asking, "Which of you is the wife of al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad?"

Her question attracted their attention and aroused everyone’s interest. Amina was too shy to utter a word. She began to stare at the entertainer’s face with anxiety and disapproval. When the performer repeated the question, Widow Shawkat pointed to Amina and volunteered, "There she is. Why do you ask?"

The performer examined her with piercing eyes. Then she let out a resounding laugh and said with satisfaction, "A beauty, by the truth of God’s house. Al-Sayyid Ahmad’s taste is unbeatable".

Amina was so embarrassed she was like a tongue-tied virgin. Embarrassment was not her only emotion. She asked herself with anxiety and alarm what the implications were of the entertainer’s question about al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad’s wife and of her praise for his taste. She had spoken in a tone that only a person who knew him well would adopt. Aisha and Khadija felt the same way. Khadija glanced back and forth from some of her friends to the performer, as though asking them what they thought of this tipsy woman. Jalila paid no attention to the panic her words had provoked. She turned her eyes to the bride and examined her as she had the mother previously. Then she wriggled her eyebrows and declared admiringly, "As beautiful as the moon, by the Messenger of God! You're really your father’s daughter. Anyone seeing those eyes would immediately remember his". She laughed boisterously before continuing: "I see you are all wondering how this woman knows al-Sayyid Ahmad… I knew him before his wife herself did. He was a neighbor and childhood playmate. Our fathers were friends. Do you think a performer doesn't have a father? My father was head of a Qur'anic primary school and a blessed man. What do you think about that, you beauty?"

She directed this question to Amina, whose fear, natural indulgence, and good humor prompted her to answer, as she struggled with her embarrassed confusion, "May God have mercy on him. We're all children of Eve and Adam".

Narrowing her eyes, Jalila began to rock her head left and right. Her memories and expressions of piety seemed to have made a great impact on her, or perhaps her drunken head enjoyed this routine. She began speaking again: "He was a man with a jealous sense of honor. But I grew up with a natural tendency to be playful, as though I had been suckled on coquetry in the cradle. When I laughed on the top floor of our house, the hearts of men in the street would be troubled. The moment he heard my voice, he would rain blows upon me and call me the worst names. But what point was there in trying to discipline a girl who was so gifted in the arts of love, music, and flirtation? His attempts were in vain. My father went to paradise and its delights while I was fated to adopt the epithets he hurled at me as my banner in life. That’s the way the world is… May our Lord nourish you with the good things in life and spare you the evil… May God never deprive us of men, whether through marriage or affairs".

Laughter rang out from all sides of the room. It drowned the shocked exclamations of some women here and there. The reaction was perhaps primarily caused by the apparent contradiction between the final, licentious prayer and the expressions preceding it which at least outwardly seemed serious and regretful. The woman had cloaked her expressions with a serious and dignified veil, before finally revealing her joke. Even Amina, uneasy though she was, could not keep from smiling, although she bowed her head so no one would see. At a party like this, women were able to entertain the drunken jokes of the performers and respond to their humor, although the limits of decency were occasionally surpassed. They seemed to enjoy a break from their normal primness.

The intoxicated entertainer continued her discourse: "My father, may God make paradise his final abode, had good intentions. For example, he brought me a fine man like himself one day and wanted to marry him to me". She roared with laughter. "What kind of marriage would that have been, my dear? What was left for a husband after what had already happened? I told myself, 'Jalila, you'll be disgraced. You've fallen into a tar pit.'"

She paused for a time to whet their appetite or to enjoy the attention focused on her, which was even greater than when she was singing. Then she went on: "But God was gracious. I was saved a few days before the anticipated disaster. I ran off with the late Hassuna al-Baghl, a drug dealer. He had a brother who played the lute for the entertainer Nayzak. He taught me how to play it. Since he liked my voice he also taught me how to sing. He coached me until I got into Nayzak’s troupe. When she died, I took her place. I've been singing for ages and have had a hundred lovers, plus…"

She frowned as she tried to remember how many more than a hundred there had been. Then she turned to ask her tambourine player, "How many, Fino?"

The musician quickly responded, "Plus five-like the five fingers of the Prophet’s granddaughter Fatima held up to ward off the evil of infidels".

Laughter resounded once more. Some of the women most fascinated by the performer’s account attempted to silence the laughing ladies so she would resume speaking, but she rose suddenly and headed for the door. She paid no attention to the women asking her where she was going. Although they received no answer, no one pressed her, because she was notorious for her outbursts, which she made no effort whatsoever to resist.

Jalila descended the staircase to the door of the women’s quarters and stepped into the courtyard. When her sudden appearance attracted the attention of nearby eyes, she paused to allow everyone to see her. She wanted to enjoy the interest that the sight of her would arouse in them and use it to challenge Sabir, who had worked his audience to a peak of enthusiasm. Her wish was granted. The contagion of turning to look at her spread as quickly as a yawn from one man to the next. Her name was repeated by every tongue. Although Sabir was carried away by his own singing, he too noticed the sudden rift between him and his audience. He turned to see what was attracting everyone’s attention and his eyes came to rest on the chanteuse, who was gazing at him from afar with her head tilted back in a mixture of intoxication and pride. Sabir was compelled to stop singing and motioned to his musicians to cease playing. He raised his hands to his head to greet her. He knew about her outbursts and, unlike most people, also knew how kindhearted she was. Taking into consideration the dangers of antagonizing her, he displayed unreserved affection for her. His ruse succeeded, and the woman’s face shone with delight. She called out to him, "Continue singing, Sabir. That’s what I've come to hear".

The guests applauded and jubilantly returned to Sabir. Then Ibrahim Shawkat, the bridegroom’s elder brother, approached her and asked politely what she needed. His question reminded her of the real reason she had come. She asked him in a voice that carried to many of the men present and most importantly to Yasin and Fahmy, "Why don't I see al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad? Where has the man hidden himself?"

Ibrahim Shawkat took her arm and smilingly escorted her to the reception room. Meanwhile Fahmy and Yasin exchanged an astonished and incredulous glance. Their eyes followed Ibrahim and the entertainer until they disappeared behind the door.

Al-Sayyid Ahmad was no less astonished than his sons to see her strutting toward him. He stared questioningly at her in alarm, while his companions exchanged smiling, knowing looks.

Jalila looked everyone over quickly and said, "A fine evening to you, gentlemen".

She focused her eyes on al-Sayyid Ahmad. She could not keep herself from laughing heartily. Then she asked sarcastically, "Has my visit frightened you, al-Sayyid Ahmad?"

He gestured to caution her about the people outside. He replied seriously, "Restrain yourself, Jalila. What has motivated you to visit me here under the eyes of all the people?"

Although her sarcastic smile never left her, she replied apologetically, "I would have hated to miss congratulating you on the marriage of your daughter".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad responded uneasily, "Thank you, lady, but didn't you think about the suspicions your visit might arouse in the minds of those who saw you?"

Jalila clapped her hands together and said almost as a reprimand, "Is this the best welcome you have for me?" Then she addressed his companions: "Gentlemen, you're my witnesses. Observe how this man, who used to be unhappy if he couldn't stick the tip of his mustache in my belly button, can't bear the sight of me".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad gestured to her as if to say, "Don't make the mud any wetter". He entreated her, "God knows I'm not unhappy to see you. The only problem is, you see, the awkward situation…"

At this point, Mr. Ali tried to remind her of something she should not forget: "You lived together as lovers and parted friends. There’s nothing to be revenged. But the women of his family are upstairs and his sons are outside".

Continuing to try to infuriate al-Sayyid Ahmad, Jalila asked, "Why do you pretend to be pious around your family when you're a pool of depravity?"

He threw her a look of protest and said, "Jalila!.. There’s no might or power except with God".

"Jalila or Zubayda, you saint?"

"I rely on God and the blessings of his deputy the Prophet…"

She wriggled her eyebrows at him as she had in honor of Aisha before him, but this time it was sarcastic and not a sign of admiration. In a calm voice as serious as a judge’s in pronouncing a verdict, she said, "It’s all the same to me whether you're Zubayda’s lover or some other woman's, but by the head of my mother it troubles me to see you roll in the dirt after being up to your ears in cream here". She pointed to herself.

Mr. Muhammad Iffat, who was the closest to her, rose at that point. He was afraid her intoxication would lead her to do something with unfortunate consequences. He took her hand and gently pulled her toward the door as he whispered in her ear, "I adjure you by al-Husayn to return to your audience, who are waiting impatiently for you".

After some resistance, she obeyed him, but as she slowly moved off, she turned toward al-Sayyid Ahmad to say, "Don't forget to give my greetings to the filthy bitch, and I'll give you some sisterly advice. Wash yourself off with alcohol after you've been with her, otherwise her sweat will affect your blood".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad saw her off with a furious look. He was cursing his luck which had decreed for him to be disgraced before the eyes of many, including his family, who knew him as a shining example of earnestness and dignity. Well, there was still hope that not everyone in his family had heard about the incident, but it was only a feeble one. There was also a chance that in their innocence they would not really understand if they did hear about it, although that possibility was hardly guaranteed, and for more than one reason.

Even assuming the worst, there was no reason for him to be alarmed. Their subservience to him and his domination over them both assured that no convulsion would shake them, not even this scandal. Moreover, he had never assumed it was out of the question that one of his sons, or even the whole family, might discover the truth about him, but he had not been overly worried about that, because of his confidence in his power and because in rearing them he had not relied on either setting an example or persuasion. There was no need to fear that they would swerve off the high road if they discovered he had. He thought it unlikely they would learn anything about him before they came of age, when he would not care much whether they did uncover his secret. Yet none of this could lighten his regret at what had happened, although the event had also pleased and flattered his pride in his sexual appeal. For a woman like Jalila to seek him out to greet him, tease him, or even to make fun of his new sweetheart was a real event that would have a great impact on the circles where he passed his nights. It was an occurrence with far- reaching significance for a man like him who enjoyed nothing so much as love, music, and companionship. But how much purer his happiness would have been if the beautiful event had taken place at a distance from this family atmosphere.

Yasin and Fahmy had not turned their eyes away from the door to the reception room from the moment Jalila disappeared through it till she emerged again, escorted by Mr. Muhammad Iffat. Fahmy was so astonished his head spun like Yasin’s when he had heard Zanuba reply, "He’s from our district. You must have heard of him… al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad…" Now Yasin was overcome by a voracious curiosity. With a happiness that awakened in his heart a frenzy of the same admiration and feeling of affinity for his father that he had felt in Zanuba’s room, he realized that Jalila was another adventure in his father’s life, which Yasin had begun to picture as a golden chain of romantic escapades. The man surpassed everything he had imagined about him. Fahmy was still hoping and praying he would eventually learn that the entertainer had merely wanted to meet his father for some reason or other connected with her contract to perform at Aisha’s wedding.

Then Khalil Shawkat came and laughingly told them that Jalila had been "teasing" their father and had "treated him affectionately, like a good friend".

With that, Yasin could no longer bear to keep his secret. The intoxication of the wine encouraged him to reveal his information. He waited until Khalil left. Then he leaned close to his brother’s ear and, trying not to laugh, told him, "I've kept some things from you that I was uneasy about disclosing at the time. Now that you've seen what you have and heard what you have, I'll tell you". He started narrating to his brother what he had heard and seen in the home of the performer Zubayda.

As Yasin told the story with all its details, Fahmy kept interrupting him in bewilderment with, "Don't say that," or "Have you lost your senses?" and "How do you expect me to believe you?" Because of Fahmy’s strong faith and idealism, he was not prepared to understand, let alone digest, his father’s secret life, which was revealed to him for the first time, especially since his father was one of the pillars of Fahmy’s creed and one of the buttresses of his idealism. There may have been some similarity between his feelings when he was first experiencing these revelations and those of a child, if imagination is to be trusted, when he leaves the stability of the womb for the chaos of the world. He could not have been more incredulous or panic-stricken if he had been told that the mosque of Qala'un had been turned upside down, with its minaret below the building and the tomb on top, or that the Egyptian nationalist leader Muhammad Farid had betrayed the cause of his mentor and predecessor Mustafa Kamil and sold himself to the English.

"My father goes to Zubayda’s house to drink, sing, and play the tambourine… My father allows Jalila to tease him and be affectionate with him… My father gets drunk and commits adultery. How could all this be true? Then he wouldn't be the father he knew at home, a man of exemplary piety and resolve. Which was correct? I can almost hear him now reciting, 'God is most great… God is most great.' So how is he at reciting songs? A life of deception and hypocrisy?… But he’s sincere. Sincere when he raises his head in prayer. Sincere when he’s angry. Is my father depraved or is licentiousness a virtue?"

"Astonished?… I was too when Zanuba mentioned his name, but I quickly got over it and I asked her what’s wrong with it?… A sin? Men are all like this or ought to be".

"This statement is entirely appropriate for Yasin. Yasin’s one thing and my father’s something else. Yasin!.. What about Yasin? How can I repeat this now, when my father, my father himself doesn't differ at all from Yasin except in having sunk lower… But no, it’s not depravity… There must be something I don't know… My father hasn't done anything wrong… He can't do anything wrong. He’s above suspicion. In any case, he doesn't merit contempt".

"Still bewildered?"

"I can't imagine that anything you've said could have happened".

"Why?… Laugh and enjoy the world. He sings. So what’s wrong about singing? He gets drunk, and believe me, drinking is even better than eating. He has affairs and so did the Muslim caliphs. Read about it in the ancient poems contained in Abu Tammam’s anthology "Diwan al-Hamasa" or see its marginal glosses. Our father isn't doing anything sinful. Shout with me, 'Long live al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad! Long live our father!' I'll leave you for a moment while I visit the bottle I hid under a chair for just such an occasion".

On the return of the entertainer to her troupe, the news of her meeting with al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad spread through the women’s quarters. It passed from mouth to mouth until it reached the mother as well as Khadija and Aisha. Although his family was hearing something like this about him for the first time, many of the ladies whose husbands were friends of al-Sayyid Ahmad were hardly surprised by the news and smilingly winked as if to say they knew more than was being said. But none of them let herself be tempted to plunge into the topic. To bring it up publicly in front of his daughters would not have seemed appropriate to them. Courtesy dictated remaining silent about it in the presence of Amina and her two daughters. Widow Shawkat did jokingly tell Amina, "Watch out, Madam Amina. It seems Jalila’s eye has strayed to al-Sayyid Ahmad".

Amina smiled and pretended not to be concerned but blushed with shame and confusion. For the first time she had tangible evidence for the doubts she had entertained long ago. Although she had trained herself to be patient and submissive about what happened to her, her collision with this tangible evidence had cut her to the quick. She felt a torment she had never experienced before. Her pride had also taken a beating.

A woman who wished to add a flattering comment appropriate for the mother of the bride said, "Anyone with a face as beautiful as Mrs. Amina’s doesn't have to worry about her husband’s eyes straying to another woman".

Amina was deeply moved by the praise, and her vivacious smile returned. In any case, it provided her some consolation for the silent pain she was suffering. Yet when Jalila began a new song, filling their ears with her voice, Amina suddenly became angry and felt for a few seconds she was about to lose control of herself. She quickly suppressed her anger with all the force of a woman who did not acknowledge that she had a right to get angry. Meanwhile Khadija and Aisha received the news with astonishment and exchanged an anxious glance. Their eyes were asking what it was all about. Their astonishment was not coupled with panic like Fahmy’s nor with pain like their mother's. Perhaps they understood that for a woman like Jalila to leave her troupe and take the trouble of going down to where their father was sitting to greet him and talk to him was something to be proud of. Khadija felt a natural desire to look at her mother’s face. She stole a glance at her. Although Mrs. Amina was smiling, her daughter grasped right away the pain and uneasiness she was enduring, which were robbing her of her peace of mind. Khadija felt upset and became angry at the entertainer, Widow Shawkat, and the gathering as a whole.

When it was time for the wedding procession, everyone forgot his personal concerns. No matter how many weeks and months passed, the picture of Aisha in her wedding gown would not leave their minds.

Al-Ghuriya was dark and quiet when the family left the bride’s new home to return to al-Nahhasin. Al-Sayyid Ahmad walked alone in front followed a few meters back by Fahmy and Yasin. The latter was exhausting himself by trying to act sober and walk straight, for fear his giddiness would reveal he had drunk too much. At the rear came Amina, Khadija, Kamal, and Umm Hanafi. Kamal had joined the caravan against his will. If his father had not been there to lead them, Kamal would have found some way to free himself from his mother’s hand and run back to where they had left Aisha. He was looking behind him at Bab al-Mutawalli from one step to the next to bid farewell sadly and regretfully to the last trace of the wedding, that shining lamp a worker on a ladder was removing from its hook over the entrance to Sugar Street. Kamal was heartbroken to see that his family had relinquished the person he loved best after his mother. He looked up at his mother and whispered, "When will Aisha come back to us?"

She whispered, "Don't say that again. Pray for her to be happy. She'll visit us frequently and we'll call on her a lot".

He whispered to her resentfully, "You've tricked me!"

She motioned toward al-Sayyid Ahmad up in front, who had almost been swallowed up by the darkness. She pursed her lips to whisper, "Hush".

But Kamal was preoccupied with recalling images of things he had happened to see during the wedding. He thought them extraordinarily odd, and they made him uneasy. He pulled his mother’s hand his way to separate her from Khadija and Umm Hanafi. Then, pointing back, he whispered to her, "Do you know what’s going on there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I peeked through a hole in the door".

The mother felt distressed and alarmed, because she could guess which door he meant, but refusing to trust her intuition, she asked, "What door?"

"The door of the bride’s room!"

The woman said with alarm, "It’s disgraceful for a person to look through holes in doors".

He immediately whispered back, "What I saw was even more disgraceful".

"Be quiet".

"I saw Aisha and Mr. Khalil sitting on the chaise longue… and he was…"

She hit him hard on his shoulder to make him stop. She whispered in his ear, "Don't say shameful things. If your father heard you, he'd kill you".

He persisted and told her, as though revealing something to her she could not possibly have imagined, "He was holding her chin in his hand and kissing her".

She hit him again, harder than she ever had before. He realized that he had certainly done something wrong without knowing it. He fell silent and was afraid. When they were crossing the courtyard of their house, straggling behind the others except for Umm Hanafi, who had waited behind to bolt the door, lock it, and latch it, Kamal’s anxiety and curiosity overcame his silence and fear. He asked pleadingly, "Why was he kissing her, Mother?"

She told him firmly, "If you start that again, I'll tell your father".