Naguib Mahfouz - Palace Walk

Upset and nervous, Aisha shouted at her, "Shame on you. Shame".

"She’s right, Khadija. You with your muddled mind aren't able to understand these arts. Blue eyes, hair of spun gold, a red stripe, and a gleaming star, these all fit together nicely in a rational way".

"Khadija, you're mistaken. I was looking at the street. That’s all. I wasn't trying to see someone or be seen by him".

Khadija turned toward her as though hearing her protest for the first time. She asked apologetically, "Were you talking to me, sweetheart, Shushu? Excuse me, I'm thinking about some important matters. So don't say anything just now". She shook her head thoughtfully again and said to herself, "Yes, it all makes perfect sense, but is this your fault, Mr. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad? I feel sorry for you, sir, you noble and generous man. Come see your women, sir, you whom I honor most of all".

Aisha’s hair stood up on end at the mention of her father. Her head whirled. She remembered what he had said to her mother when he was attacking Fahmy’s request to get engaged to Maryam: "Tell me: Has he seen her?… I didn't know I had sons who were sneaking looks at the respectable women of our neighbors". That was what he thought about his son; so what would he think about his daughter? She nearly choked as she cried out, "Khadija… this isn't right… You're mistaken… You're wrong".

Khadija kept on talking to herself without paying any attention to her sister: "Do you suppose this is love? Perhaps! Don't they say, 'Love has penetrated my heart… It won't be long till I'm taken to Tokar Prison'? I wonder where this notorious Tokar Prison is? Perhaps it’s in al-Nahhasin; indeed perhaps it’s in the home of Mr. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad".

"I can't bear what you're saying. Have mercy on me and spare me your tongue. Oh Lord… why won't you believe me?"

"Think carefully about what you're going to do, Khadija. It’s not a game. You're the older sister. A duty is a duty, no matter how bitter it may seem. The authorities must be informed. Should you confide the secret to your father? The truth is that I wouldn't know how to tell him such an important secret. Yasin? He might as well not exist for all the help he can provide. The most that can be hoped from him is for him to chant some incomprehensible words. Fahmy? But he’s also sweet on the golden-haired wonder who is the source of the whole problem. I suspect the best thing is for me to tell Mother. I'll let her do what she thinks is right".

Khadija moved as though she intended to get up. Aisha rushed at her like a chicken without a head. She grabbed her shoulders and shouted, as her chest heaved, "What do you want?"

Khadija asked, "Are you threatening me?"

Aisha started to speak but all at once choked on her tears. She murmured some words that were mangled by her sobs. Khadija stared at her silently and thoughtfully. Then the mischievous sarcasm of her expression changed to a frown as she listened uncomfortably to the girl’s sobs. Speaking in a serious tone for the first time, she remarked, "What you did was wrong, Aisha".

Then she stopped. The frown on her face became more pronounced. Her nose seemed to stick out even farther. She was clearly moved. She started speaking again: "You've got to confess you made a mistake. Tell me how you talked yourself into this mischief, you crazy girl".

Drying her eyes, Aisha mumbled, "You misjudge me".

Khadija snorted and scowled as though she could not stand any more of this lamentable obstinacy. All the same, she abandoned the notion of acting hostilely toward Aisha or of mistreating her. She always knew when and where to stop. She would not let things get out of hand. Her sarcasm had satisfied her rough and hostile tendencies. As usual, she was content to draw the line there. Her other inclinations, as far removed as possible from hostility and harshness, still had not been satisfied. They were impulses arising from the affections of an older sister. Indeed her feelings were almost maternal and embraced every member of the family, no matter how fierce her attack against one of them might be, or his against her.

Impelled by these affectionate urges, Khadija said, "Don't be obstinate. I saw it all with my own eyes. I'm not joking now. I want to tell you frankly that you made a big mistake. Our family has not known this kind of mischief in the past and we don't want to experience it again, now or in the future. It’s nothing but recklessness that has landed you here. Listen to me and pay attention to my advice. Don't ever do this again. Nothing remains a secret forever, no matter how long it may be concealed. Imagine the situation for all of us if someone on the street or one of our neighbors noticed you. You know very well how people talk. Imagine what would happen if the news reached Daddy. God help us!"

Aisha bowed her head and allowed her silence to serve as a confession. Her face was stained red with shame in a physical manifestation of remorse that conscience releases inside us when injured by one of our offenses.

Khadija sighed and said, "Beware, beware. Understand?" Then a wave of sarcasm swept across her and her tone changed somewhat: "Hasn't he seen you? What’s keeping him from asking for your hand like an honorable man? When that happens, we'll gladly say farewell to you, lady, or even good riddance".

Aisha got her breath back. Her smile resembled the first glimmer of consciousness after a long swoon. The sight of this smile seemed to make Khadija disinclined to let her sister escape from her grasp so soon, after she had enjoyed dominating her for a long time. She shouted at her, "Don't think you're off the hook. My tongue won't be still unless you do a good job of entertaining it".

Aisha asked her cheerfully, "What do you mean?"

"Don't neglect it. Otherwise it might yield to a malicious urge. Divert it with some candy so it'll be occupied with that and not you, a box of bonbons from Shangarly, for example".

"You can have all you want and more".

Silence reigned while each of them was busy with her own thoughts. Khadija’s heart, as it had been from the beginning of the encounter, was a breeding ground for all sorts of different emotions… jealousy, anger, sympathy, and affection.

Mrs. Amina was busy getting ready for the traditional family coffee hour when Umm Hanafi rushed up to her. The gleam in her eyes suggested that she was bringing good news. She announced importantly, "Three ladies I've never seen before wish to call on you".

The mother set everything down and straightened up quickly in a way that showed the impact of the news on her. She stared at the servant with a look of intense interest, as though it was likely the visitors were from the royal family or even from heaven. Then, seeking confirmation, she stammered, "Strangers?"

Umm Hanafi replied in a tone that had a happy, triumphant ring to it, "Yes, my lady. They knocked on the door and I opened it. They asked me, 'Isn't this the home of al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad?' I said, 'Yes, indeed.' They said, 'Are the ladies in?' I replied, 'Yes.' They said, 'We would like to have the honor of calling on them.' I asked them, 'Shall I say who the visitors are?' One of them told me with a laugh, 'Leave that to us. All the messenger needs to do is carry the message.' So I flew to you, my lady. I've been saying to myself, 'May our Lord make our dreams come true'"

Her interest still showing in her eyes, the mother said quickly, "Invite them to the parlor… hurry".

For a few seconds Amina did not move. She was sunk in these new thoughts, in a happy dream world that suddenly revealed its riches to her, after she had worked for nothing else all these past years. Then she snapped out of her reverie and called Khadija in a voice that made it clear she would not tolerate any delay. The girl came at once. The moment their eyes met she smiled and, unable to restrain her joy, told her daughter, "Three ladies we've never seen before are in the parlor… Put on your best clothes and get yourself ready".