Naguib Mahfouz - Palace of Desire

Al-Sayyid Ahmad seemed genuinely sad when he said, "I've given you the best advice I can. You're free to choose for yourself, but you must always remember that I did not agree with you. Think the matter over at length. Don't be hasty. You still have plenty of time. Otherwise you'll regret your bad choice for the rest of your life. I take refuge with God from stupidity, ignorance, and folly". The man dropped his foot to the ground with a motion that indicated he was preparing to rise and get ready to leave the house.

Kamal stood up politely and modestly and then departed. Returning to the sitting room, he found his mother and Yasin conversing there. He was distraught and dejected after having resisted his father so vigorously, even though the man had been forbearing and lenient. He was also disturbed by the anxiety and sorrow his father showed toward the end of their discussion. He summaiized for Yasin the conversation that had taken place in the bedroom. As the older brother listened, his expression was disapproving and his smile sardonic. He wasted no time in advising the teenager that he agreed with their father and was amazed at both the boy's ignorance about the values important in life and his fixation on others that were fanciful or ridiculous.

"You want to dedicate your life to learning? What does that mean? As an insight or maxim in works by al-Manfaluti like his Reflections that's brilliant, but in real life it's nonsense that doesn't get you anywhere. You live here and now, not in al-Manfaluti's books, isn't that so? Books document strange and supernatural matters. For example, you read at times in them a line like Ahmad Shawqi's: 'The teacher is almost like a prophet,' but have you ever encountered a teacher of whom that was true? Come with me to al-Nahhasin School or recall any of your teachers you please. Show rne one of them deserving the title 'human being,' let alone that of'prophet.' What is this learning you desire? Ethics, history, and poetry? All those are beautiful pastimes but worthless in the workaday world. Be careful that an opportunity for a distinguished life does not slip through your fingers. I frequently regret that adverse circumstances prevented me from continuing my education."

Once Yasin followed his father out of the house and Kamal was left alone with his mother, he asked her opinion. She was not normally consulted on a matter like this, but she had followed his conversation with Yasin and knew of al-Sayyid Ahmad's desire for him to go to Law School. She had begun to consider that idea ill-omened, and it made her uncomfortable.

In any case, Kamal knew exactly how to win her approval for his position in the shortest possible time. He told her, "The science I want to study is closely linked to religion. Among its branches are wisdom, ethics, consideration of the attributes of God, and the essence of His revelatory signs and creations."

Amina's face shone as she said enthusiastically, "This is true science, like my father's and your grandfather's. Religious science is the most noble one of all."

She thought for a time as he watched her with a twinkle in his eyes. Then with the same enthusiasm she continued: "Who would ever disparage a teacher? Don't they say, become the slave of anyone who teaches me even a single syllable'?"

Repeating the argument his father had used to attack his choice, as though to elicit her support, Kamal observed, "But they say a teacher has no chance at getting a good position."

She waved her hand disdainfully and replied, "A teacher makes a decent living, doesn't he? What more can you wish for? I ask God that you may have good health, a long life, and sound learning. Your grandfather used to say, 'Learning is more valuable than money.'"

Amazingly, his mother's advice was better than his father's. It was not based on opinion but on sound feelings, which, unlike his father's, had never been corrupted by contact with the realities of worldly life. Her ignorance of the affairs of the world had protected her feelings from corruption. But what value did feelings have, no matter how noble, if they were rooted in ignorance? Was this same ignorance at least partially responsible for his own ideas? He revolted against this kind of logic and to refute it told himself that he knew the good and bad of the world from books. His choice of the good was based on both his beliefs and his thought. Innate and naive feelings might agree with wise opinions without discrediting the latter in any way. "Absolutely!" he exclaimed to himself.

He did not doubt for a moment that his opinion was correct and noble, but did he know what he wanted? It was not the teaching profession that attracted him. The truth was that he dreamed of writing a book. What book? It would not be poetry. There was poetry in his diary, but it originated with Ai'da, who changed prose into poetry, not with any poetic gift of his. Thus the book would be prose. It would be a large, bound volume about the size and shape of the Holy Qur'an, and, like the Qur'an, its pages would have margins filled with notes and commentaries. But what would he write about? The Qur'an embraced everything, did it not? There was no cause for him to despair. He would find his subject one day. It was enough for him to know the size, shape, and style of annotation for the book. Surely a book that would shake the world was better than a civil service position, even if the latter shook the world too. Every educated person knew about Socrates. Who remembered the judges who had presided at his trial?

"Good evening!"

"She's not going to answer," he thought. "That's what I expected. At the beginning, it's always like that… has been and ever will be. So she turns her back on you, moving away from the wall beside you to go to the line and check the clothespins. Hasn't she already done that? Of course, but, Maryam, you're trying to be discreet. I understand perfectly. After ten years of chasing women I've become something of an expert. Delight your eyes with her before it gets dark and she's reduced to a shadow. She's put on weight and gotten firmer. She's even more beautiful than when she was a girl. She was pretty as a gazelle back then but did not possess such full hips. Not so fast… she still has a maidenlike figure. How old are you, sweetheart? Your family used to claim you were the same age as Khadija, but according to Khadija you're years and years older. My stepmother declares nowadays that you're in your thirties, on the basis of old memories of the type: 'When I was pregnant with Khadija, Mar-yam was a girl of five,' and so on. What difference does age make? Do you plan to spend your whole life with her? In a few short days, she'll ripen into all the woman you could want — beautiful, alluring, satisfying, and plump. Oh, she looked toward the street and noticed you. Did you see her eyes look at you like a chicken's? I won't budge from here, you beauty. Isn't a young man whose looks, strength, and financial status you know better than that Englishman you once admired?"

"Doesn't your family think a greeting deserves some reply?" he asked.

"She's turned away from you again," he observed. "But wait… didn't she smile? Yes, and whatever force allotted beauty to her gave her an enchanting smile. She smiled. You prepared carefully for this final step. No doubt she's been aware of all my previous motions and maneuvers. My time has come … and yours too, since luckily you're not a woman afflicted with modesty. That Englishman…Julian! Here's a noble stallion standing before you, and his body's ready to carry you away. Don't you hear him neighing?"

"Does your family have no respect for neighbors?" he inquired. "I beg you for a word of greeting. I certainly deserve that."

A faint, delicate voice, which seemed to come from far away, since her face was turned in the other direction, said, "You don't deserve it… not like this."