Naguib Mahfouz - Palace Walk

Kamal imagined that Aisha’s body was contracting and relaxing like her husband’s hands. He lost control of himself and raced off, unable to say anything because of his sobs. When he reached the door of the women’s quarters he heard footsteps behind him. He looked up and saw the servant Suwaydan hurrying down. She passed without paying any attention to him. Stopping at the door, she called her master Ibrahim. When the man hastened to her, she told him, "Praise to God, master". She added nothing further and did not wait to hear his reply. She turned on her heels and rushed back up the steps without any delay.

Ibrahim went to the reception chamber with a beaming face. Kamal stayed where he was, alone, not knowing what to do. In less than a minute Ibrahim returned, followed by al-Sayyid Ahmad, Yasin, and Fahmy in that order. The boy stepped aside to let them pass and then trailed after them with a pounding heart.

Khalil received them at the door of the apartment. Kamal heard his father say, "Praise to God for good health".

Khalil muttered despondently, "Praise to God in any case".

With concern, al-Sayyid Ahmad asked him, "What’s the matter?"

In a low voice Khalil said, "I'm going to call the doctor".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad asked anxiously, "For the baby?"

He replied as he shook his head no, "Aisha!.. She’s not in good shape. I'll get the doctor at once".

He departed, leaving behind him undisguised dejection and anxiety. Ibrahim Shawkat invited them into the parlor. They went there silently. Widow Shawkat arrived soon and greeted them. She smiled to reassure them. When she sat down she said, "The poor dear suffered so long that her strength gave out. It’s just a temporary condition and will soon pass. I'm sure of what I say, but my son seems to be unusually fearful today. In any case, there’s no harm in having the doctor come". Then she commented in a low voice to herself, "The real doctor is our Lord. He’s the true physician".

Though surrounded by his sons, al-Sayyid Ahmad was unable to maintain his customary composure. With evident anxiety he asked, "What’s the matter with her?… Can't I see her?"

The woman smiled and said, "You'll see her shortly, when she’s feeling better. It’s my crazy son’s fault that he alarmed you unnecessarily".

Within his broad, powerful chest that seemed so resolute, dignified, and awe-inspiring was a grievously tormented heart. Inside those grave, despondent eyes was a frozen tear. "What’s happened to my little girl? The doctor! Why is the old lady keeping me from seeing her? A tender smile or an affectionate word from me, from me in particular, would certainly lessen her pains. Marriage, husband, pain… She never tasted the bitterness of pain in my house. The beautiful, darling little girl… mercy, God. Life’s lost its flavor. The taste is destroyed by the least harm threatening them. Fahmy… I see he’s dejected and in pain… Has he understood the meaning of pain? How could he know what a mother’s heart feels? The old lady’s calm and confident of what she says. Her son upset us for no reason at all. O God, hear our prayer. You know the state I'm in. You'll save her the way You saved me from the English. My heart can't take this torment. God is merciful. He’s capable of saving my children from every evil. Otherwise, life would have no taste. What enjoyment would I get from gaiety, music, and entertainment if there was a sharp thorn planted in my side? My heart prays for their deliverance, because it’s a father’s heart. It can't enjoy amusements unless it’s free from worry. Will I go to the party tonight with a heart at ease? When I laugh, I like it to resound from the depths of my sincere heart. An anxious heart is like a string that’s out of tune. Fahmy’s enough for me to worry about. He pesters me like a toothache. How hateful pain is! A world without pain… nothing is too much for God. A world without pain, even if only for a brief time… a world in which my eye’s delighted by my children. Then I would laugh, sing, and play. Most Merciful of the merciful… Have mercy on Aisha, O God".

Khalil returned with the doctor after an absence of three-quarters of an hour. They entered the door at once, closing it behind them. When al-Sayyid Ahmad learned they had arrived, he rose and went to the door of the parlor. He stood at the threshold for a little while, looking at the closed door. Then he went back to his place and sat down.

Widow Shawkat said, "We'll see how right I am once the doctor speaks to us".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad raised his head heavenward and murmured, "Pardon comes from Him".

He would soon know the truth and escape from the fog of doubt, regardless of the outcome. His heart pounded rapidly. Let him be patient. It would not be long. His faith in God was deep, profound, and not easily shaken. He should surrender the affair to Him. No matter how long the doctor stayed inside, he would eventually come out. Then he would ask what it was all about. A doctor?… He had not thought about that before… A doctor at a delivery, face to face with her womb. Was not that so? But he was a doctor… What could be done? "The important thing is for our Lord to take her by the hand. We ask him for deliverance".

In addition to being worried, al-Sayyid Ahmad felt embarrassed and annoyed. The examination lasted about twenty minutes. Then the door opened. He rose and went at once to the sitting room, followed by the boys. They gathered around the doctor, who knew al-Sayyid Ahmad. Shaking his hand, he said with a smile, "She’s in good health". He continued more seriously: "They brought me for the mother, but I found the one really in need of my care was the baby girl".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad sighed with relief, feeling better for the first time in about an hour. With a gracious smile brightening his face, he asked, "Can I be sure of what you say, then?"

Pretending to be astonished, the doctor said, "Yes, but aren't you concerned about your granddaughter?"

Smiling, he replied, "I'm not familiar yet with the duties of a grandfather".

Khalil asked, "Isn't there any hope she'll live?"

Knitting his brows, the doctor answered, "Lives are in God’s hands. I found that her heart’s weak. It’s likely she'll die before morning. If she makes it safely through the night, she'll be out of immediate danger, but I think she won't live long. In my judgment, she won't live past her twenties. But who knows? Only God controls our lives".

When the doctor had gone off about his business, Khalil turned toward his mother with a sad smile. He told her, "I was intending to name her Na'ima, after you".

The woman gestured with her hand to scold him and observed, "The doctor himself said, 'Lives are in God’s hands.' Are you going to have less faith than the doctor? Name her Na'ima. You must name her Na'ima in my honor. God willing, her life will be as long as her grandmother's".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad was thinking to himself, "The fool called a doctor to look at his wife for no reason, no reason at all. What an idiot he is!" Unable to contain his fury, although he disguised it in a gentle tone, he said, "It’s true that fear makes men do foolish things, but shouldn't you have thought a little before rushing off to bring an outsider to take such a searching look at your wife?"

Khalil did not respond. He glanced at the people around him and remarked earnestly, "Aisha must not know what the doctor said".

"What’s happening in the street?" al-Sayyid Ahmad wondered as he rose hastily from his desk. He went to the door, followed by Jamil al-Hamzawi and some of their customers. Al-Nahhasin was not a quiet street, quite the contrary. Its strident noise did not abate from one dawn until shortly before the next. There were the loud cries of vendors, haggling of shoppers, pleas of crazed beggars, and wisecracks of passers by. People conversed as though delivering a public oration. Even the most personal discussions ricocheted everywhere, flying up to the minarets. To this general commotion the Suarès omnibus added its clanking and the donkey carts their clatter. In no sense was it a quiet street, but a sudden clamor had arisen, at first heard in the distance like the roar of waves, then growing stronger and more raucous until it sounded like a howling wind. It enveloped the whole district, near and far. Even on this noisy street it was out of the ordinary and exceptional.