Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley

"But we are not of your class, sir!" she said, her voice near hysteria.

Alwan replied politely, "You are a good woman and I am attracted to your lovely daughter. That's all there is to it. Are only the rich worthy of one's choice? What need have I for money when I have more than enough already?"

Umm Hamida's astonishment remained complete as she sat listening to him. Then she suddenly remembered something she had quite forgotten until now. She realized that Hamida was engaged. She let out a cry, which led Alwan to ask her, "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me. I forgot that Hamida is engaged! Abbas Hilu asked her to marry him before he went to Tell el-Kebir!"

Alwan's face fell and he turned red with rage. As though speaking the name of some vile insect, he shouted, "Abbas Hilu!"

"And we even recited the Qur'an to confirm it!" let out Umm Hamida in a wail of regret.

"That simpleton barber?" scowled Salim Alwan.

"He's working for the Army to earn more money. He left after we confirmed the engagement."

Alwan's anger at his exploded dream, and at Abbas as the cause, increased and merged into one. He commented bitingly, "Does that fool think the Army is a blessing that will last forever? Really, I don't see why you bring up this story."

"Well, I just remembered it. We never dreamed that you would do us such a great honor and so I had no reason to refuse his offer. Don't be angry with me, Mr. Alwan. You're the kind of man who only has to issue a command when you want something. We had no idea we'd be so privileged. Please don't be angry with me. Why are you so angry?"

Salim Alwan relaxed the expression on his face as he realized that he was angrier than he should be, as if Abbas was the aggressor and not the person against whom he intended to aggress. However, he went on: "Haven't I every right to be angry?" He paused suddenly and his face went pale. With deep emotion, he asked, "And did the girl agree? I mean, does she want him?"

"Oh, my daughter had nothing to do with it," answered Umm Hamida quickly. "All that happened was that Abbas came to me one day, with Uncle Kamil, and then we recited the Qur'an to seal the engagement."

"It's fantastic the way these young men act. Why, they scarcely have a penny to their names, yet they see no reason why they shouldn't get married and populate the whole alley with children who get their food from garbage carts. Let's forget the whole matter."

"A very good idea indeed, sir. I'll go now and be back soon, with God's help."

Umm Hamida stood up and bowed low over his hand in farewell. She picked up her perfume and went out.

Salim Alwan remained seated and perplexed, his face full of gloom, the steely glint in his eyes reflecting his annoyance and anger. So his first step had resulted in his stumbling. He spat on the floor as though expelling Abbas himself. Imagine a simple penniless barber trying to compete with him! He could hear the gossips now, with more than their usual venom, while his wife accused him of trying to abduct a girl hairdresser from a barbershop in Midaq Alley. Yes, that's what she would say, again and again, and everyone else would say the same. Eventually, the matter would reach his children, his friends and his enemies. He sat thinking of all this, although he never wavered for a moment. The battle had been fought before today and he had now set out to accomplish the matter, placing his trust in God. He sat twisting his mustaches and shaking his head in defeat. He would have Hamida and whatever people said would make no difference to him. Had they ever kept their tongues from gossiping about him before? Their filthy fable about his bowl of green wheat, for instance. Let them think what they liked. He would do as he pleased.

As for his family, well, his fortune was large enough to satisfy all of them and his new marriage would cost no more than a title would. His anger cooled now and his mood was much better; his thinking had greatly relieved his anxieties. He told himself that he must never forget that he was a man of flesh and blood; otherwise he would fail to do justice to himself and merely succumb to fears and worries, which would eventually devour him.

What good was his fortune if he were to deny himself what he wanted and what he could so easily have. Why should he be consumed with longing for a body that could be his at merely a nod of his head?

Umm Hamida hurried back, and on the short walk between her flat and Alwan's office her mind was filled with conflicting dreams. She found Hamida standing in the middle of the room combing her hair. The older woman eyed her closely as if seeing her for the first time. She saw her as the clever female who had managed to captivate a man of Alwan's respectability, age, and wealth. Umm Hamida was experiencing something very much like envy. She was aware that half the money this anticipated marriage would bring the girl would go to her, and that she would be amply rewarded for each blessing that fell on the girl. She could not, however, dispel this strange feeling that weighed down her happiness, and she asked herself, "How could fate offer this happiness to a girl who knew neither a father nor a mother?" Now she wondered, "Has Mr. Alwan never heard her awful voice as she screams at the neighbors? Has he never seen one of her tantrums?" Without taking her eyes off the girl, Umm Hamida made a clucking sound and commented, "My, my, you were certainly born under a lucky star!"

Hamida stopped combing her shining black hair and laughingly asked, "Why? What do you mean? Is there anything new?"

The matchmaker took off her cloak and threw it on the settee. Then she said quietly, closely watching the girl's eyes to see the effect of what she would say, "Yes, a new husband!"

The girl's eyes flashed in interest and surprise as she asked, "Are you serious?"

"A very important man, indeed, and not just a dreamer, you bitch."

Hamida's heart beat furiously and her eyes shone so that their whites flashed. She asked, "Who is he?"

"Guess."

"Who?" the girl asked, bursting with curiosity.

Shaking her head and making her eyebrows dance, the matchmaker replied, "Mr. Salim Alwan, in all his full majesty!"

Hamida gripped her comb so tightly that its teeth almost broke in her hand. She shouted, "Salim Alwan, the owner of the company?"

"Himself. A man who has so much wealth that it can't be counted."

Hamida's face glowed with happiness and she muttered unconsciously, almost beside herself with amazement and happiness, "What a shock!"

"What good news! It couldn't be sweeter. I wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't told me himself."

The girl stuck her comb in her hair and rushed over to her adoptive mother's side. Shaking her shoulders, she demanded, "What did he say? Tell me everything — word for word."

She listened attentively as Umm Hamida told her what had happened. Her heart throbbed and her face flushed, her eyes glistening proudly. Here at last was the stroke of fortune she had always dreamed of. This at last was the man who could give her all the luxury and freedom from drudgery she prayed for. She could think of no cure for her hunger for power other than a great deal of money. She wanted the other things it would bring: dignity, beautiful clothes, jewelry, pride, and a whole new world of secure and happy people.

Her mother stood surveying the girl and then asked, "What do you think?"

Umm Hamida had no idea how she would reply. She was determined to have an argument with the girl, in any case. If she said, "Mr. Alwan," she would reply, "And Abbas?" and if Hamida were to say, "Abbas," she would reply, "And are we going to part with Mr. Alwan?" As it happened, Hamida replied, as if not believing she was being asked the question, "What do I think?"