Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley

Hamida was now trembling from head to foot. Suddenly she could restrain herself no longer. In one swift leap she reached for his throat. He anticipated her sudden action and met her attack with complete calm. Seizing her arms, he forced them apart and then released her, the mocking smile still on his lips. Hamida raised her arm and slapped his face with all her strength. His smile faded, and an evil, threatening look came into his eyes. She stared back at him challengingly, impatiently waiting for the battle to begin. He was well aware that to engage in physical combat with her would only mean a strengthening of the ties he wished to sever and so he withdrew without defending himself. He retreated a step, turned his back on her, and walked off, saying, "Please come to work, my darling."

Hamida refused to believe her eyes as she stood there looking at the door through which he had disappeared. She knew what his retreat meant. She was suddenly consumed with an irresistible urge to kill this man.

Hamida felt she must leave that house at once. Walking heavily toward the door, she realized that she was leaving that room, their room, for the last time. She turned around as though to say farewell to it. Suddenly she felt as though she would faint. Oh God! How had everything come to an end so quickly? This mirror, how often she had looked into it so full of happiness. And the bed, which harbored so much lovemaking and so many dreams. That settee where she had often been in his arms, listening to his advice amidst caresses. There was the dressing table with a picture of them both in evening dress. In one swift dash she fled from the room.

The hot air of the street almost scorched her and she could scarcely breathe. She walked along saying to herself, "I'll murder him!" That would be a consolation, if she didn't have to pay for his life with her own. She knew that her love would always remain a scar deep within her, but she was not the sort of woman love could actually destroy. This thought cheered her a little and she waved to the driver of a carriage she saw approaching. She climbed in, feeling an urgent need for more air and a rest.

She told the driver, "Drive first to Opera Square and then come back along Fuad I Street. And drive carefully, please."

She sat in the middle of the seat, leaning back comfortably with her legs crossed. Her short silk dress revealed a portion of leg above her knees. She lit a cigarette and puffed it nervously, unaware of passersby staring at the flesh she revealed.

Hamida sat completely engrossed in her thoughts. A variety of future hopes and dreams came to comfort her, but it never occurred to her that she might discover a new love to make her forget this old one.

After some time she turned her attention to the road. The open carriage was now circling around in front of the Opera House and in the distance she caught sight of Queen Farida Square. Her thoughts flew from there up to the Mousky, New Street, Sanadiqiya Street, and Midaq Alley, and shadowy figures of men and women from the past flitted before her eyes. She wondered whether any of them would recognize her if they were to see her now. Would they see Hamida underneath Titi? Why should she care anyway? After all, she had no father or mother of her own. She finished the cigarette and threw it from the carriage.

Settling back, she enjoyed the ride until the carriage returned to Sharif Street and made its way toward the tavern where she worked. Just then she heard a shrill cry rend the air: "Hamida!" She turned in terror and saw Abbas, the barber, only an arm's length away from her.

"Abbas!"

The young man was panting furiously because he had run behind the carriage all the way from Opera Square. He had dashed blindly, bumping into people, careless of the shoves, curses, and pushes directed at him. He had been walking with Hussain Kirsha, wandering aimlessly after leaving Vita's bar until they reached Opera Square. It was here Hussain saw the carriage with the beautiful woman inside.

He did not recognize Hamida. He had instinctively raised his eyebrows in approval of the passenger. In fact, he drew his friend's attention to her. Abbas looked up at the approaching carriage and fixed his gaze on the young woman in it. She seemed lost in thought. She looked somehow familiar. So faintly familiar that his heart, more than his eyes, was the detector. In spite of his slightly drunken state he shouted, "Stop!"

The carriage now turned and headed for Ezbekiya Gardens. Abbas dashed off in mad pursuit, leaving his friend shouting after him. Heavy traffic at the head of Fuad I Street delayed him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the carriage. He set off again running as fast as he could, his strength failing. Finally he caught up with her just as she was about to enter the tavern, and called out her name with a piercing shriek. She turned toward him and weakly gasped out his name. Instantly his doubts vanished. He stood before her gasping for breath, not trusting the image before his eyes. She too was obviously overcome with what she saw. Suddenly she seemed conscious of the many people watching them. She controlled herself and, signaling him, she walked quickly off toward a small street next to the tavern. Abbas followed her into the first door on the right, a flower shop. The proprietress greeted her, recognizing Hamida as a frequent customer. She returned the greeting and accompanied Abbas to the back of the shop. The shopkeeper sensed she wanted to be alone with her companion and seated herself discreetly behind a flower display, as though she were alone in the shop.

They now stood face to face. Abbas trembled with excitement and total bewilderment. What had drawn him to his mortal enemy? What could he hope for from his meeting? Why had he not let her pass unnoticed? Suddenly he had no opinion, no plans. While he was running, memories of Hamida's desertion barely kept his mind on the road. He simply ran out of blind instinct until he finally gasped out her name. From then on he was like a sleepwalker, following her into the shop.

He could feel himself slowly returning to consciousness as he examined this strange woman before him. In vain he tried to find a trace of the girl he had once loved. Abbas was not so simple that he failed to grasp the truth of what he saw before him. Then, too, the rumors in Midaq Alley had forced him to expect the worst. However, nothing was as shattering as what he now saw. He was overcome with a sense of the futility of life. However, strangely enough, he felt no inclination to harm her — or even to humiliate her.

Hamida looked at him with a childlike confusion. His presence aroused no feelings of affection or regret. She felt only contempt and animosity and silently cursed the bad luck that had thrown him in her path.

The silence was beginning to strain their nerves, and now Abbas, unable to bear it, spoke softly: "Hamida! Is it really you? Oh God, how can I believe my eyes? How could you have left your home and your mother and ended up like this?"

Embarrassed, but not ashamed, Hamida answered, "Don't ask me about anything. I've nothing to say to you. It's all the will of God. It can't be changed."

Her embarrassment and control had the opposite effect from what she expected. Now both his anger and his hatred were aroused. His voice rose in a bellow that filled the shop: "You filthy liar… Some degenerate like yourself seduced you and you ran off with him! The alley is full of filthy rumors about you, you know. And I can see them all reflected in your hard face and your cheap getup…"

His sudden anger ignited her quick temper, and now all embarrassment and fear dissolved within her. All this added to the day's agonies and now her face turned pale.

"Shut up!" she shouted. "Don't talk like a maniac! Do you think you scare me? What do you want from me, you nothing? You have no claim on me. Get out of my sight."