Naguib Mahfouz - Palace of Desire

With a modicum of enthusiasm Kamal said, "You're not a prisoner in the house as you once were. You've gained the right to visit Khadija, Aisha, and our master al-Husayn as often as you want. Imagine what you would have missed if Father had not relaxed the rules."

She looked up at him with confused embarrassment, for the reference to a distinction she had won as a result of losing a child troubled her. Then she bowed her head despondently, as if to say, "I wish I had remained as I was and kept my son". She did not air the feelings raging in her breast for fear of upsetting Kamal. Apologizing for the freedom she enjoyed, she said, "My occasional excursions are not for my entertainment. I go to al-Husayn to pray for you. I visit your sisters to reassure myself about them and to resolve the problems no one else seems able to handle."

He had no difficulty guessing which problems she meant. Knowing she had visited Aisha and Khadija that day, he asked, "Anything new at Sugar Street?"

Sighing, she answered, "The usual."

He shook his head sadly. Then with a smile he remarked, "Khadija has a gift for quarreling."

Amina responded sorrowfully, "Her mother-in-law told me that any conversation with her threatens to end badly."

"It seems her mother-in-law is growing senile too."

"Her age is excuse enough. But what's your sister's excuse?"

"Did you side with her or with the truth?"

Amirta laughed in a way that suggested she knew only too well what he meant. She sighed again and said, "Your sister has a hot temperament. She is quick to bridle at even the most sincere advice. And woe to me if I'm polite to her mother-in-law out of respect for her age and status. Then she'll ask me with fiery eyes, 'Are you for me or against me?' There is no strength or might save from God. 'For me or against me!' Are we at war, son? Strangely enough, at times her mother-in-law is at fault, but Khadija carries the fight to such extremes that she ends up in the wrong."

It would be impossible for anything to make Kamal angry at Khadija. She had been and still remained his second mother and an inexhaustible source of affection. How did his sister Aisha compare with her beautiful, giddy Aisha who had absorbed all the characteristics of the Shawkat family?

"What did the investigation reveal?"

"This time the argument began with the husband, and that's unusual. When I entered their quarters, they were having a violent dispute. I was amazed that something had agitated the good man and intervened to make peace. Then I learned the cause for all of it. She had made up her mind to dust the apartment, but he was still sleeping at nine. So she insisted on rousing him, and he woke up angry. Feeling obstinate for once, he refused to get out of bed. His mother heard the row and was quick to come. Then the fires Qared. This quarrel was scarcely concluded before another one broke out, because Ahmad returned from playing in the street with mud on his shirt. She hit him and wanted him to take a bath. The boy appealed to his father for help, and the man came to his rescue. So a second fight broke out in one morning."

Laug] ling, Kamal asked, "What did you do?"

"I tried my best but did not succeed. She scolded me for a long time because I had attempted to mediate. She told me, 'You should have taken my side the way she stood up for him.'"

Sighi ig a third time, she continued: "I told Khadija, 'Don't you remember how you saw me act when I was with your father?' She answered sharply, 'Do you think there's another man in the whole world like Father?'"

Uninvited, the vision of Abd al-Hamid Bey Shaddad and his wife, Satiiya Hanim, popped into Kamal's imagination. They were walking side by side from the veranda to their Minerva automobile, which was parked by the gate of the mansion. They did not seem a master and his servant but two equal friends conversing easily with each other, with her arm draped over his. When they reached the vehicle, the bey stepped aside to allow the lady to climb in first.

"Will you ever get to see your parents act like this?" he wondered. "What a silly idea!"

The couple walked with an air of distinction befitting the parents of his beloved. Although her mother was as old as his, she was wearing an expensive coat, which was a marvel of taste, elegance, and style. Her face was unveiled and attractive, although it did not compare with the angelic countenance of her daughter. There emanated from her a fragrant perfume and a captivating elegance. He wished he knew what they discussed and their manner of agreeing and disagreeing, if they ever did differ. He was eager to learn about this life, which was linked to his beloved's by the firmest ties and bonds.

"Do you remember," he asked himself, "how you gazed at her like a worshipper viewing great priests and high church dignitaries?"

He told his mother calmly, "If Khadija's character was more like yours, she would be assured a happy life."

She smiled with delight, although her pleasure ran afoul of a bitter truth — namely, that her disposition, no matter how mild, could not always guarantee her happiness. Then with the smile still on her lips to conceal her gloomy thoughts, which she was apprehensive he might detect, she said, "God alone is the guide. May our Lord make you even more sweet-tempered than you are, so you'll be a person loving others and loved by them."

He quickly asked her, "What do you think of me?"

With conviction she replied, "You're already like that and better."

"But how can angels love you?" he wondered. "Call up her blissful image and contemplate it a little. Can you imagine her unable to sleep or left prostrate by love and passion? That's too remote even for a fantasy. She's above love, for love is a defect remedied only by the loved one. Be patient and don't torment your heart. It's enough that you're in love. It's enough that you see her. Her image shines into your spirit and her dulcet tones send intoxicating delight through you. From the beloved emanates a light in which all things appear to be created afresh. After a long silence, the jasmine and the hyacinth beans begin to confide in each oth er. The minarets and domes fly up over the evening glow into the sky. The landmarks of the ancient district hand down the wisdom of past generations. The existential orchestra echoes the chirps of the crickets. The dens of wild beasts overflow with tenderness. Grace adorns the alleys and side streets. Sparrows of rapture chatter over the tombs. Inanimate objects are caught up in silent meditation. The rainbow appears in the woven mat over which your feet step. Such is the world of my beloved."

"I went by al-Azhar on my way to al-Husayn and ran into a large demonstration with people chanting slogans. It reminded me of the past. Has something happened, son?"

He answered, "The English do not wish to leave peacefully."

With a look of anger sparkling in her eyes she said sharply, "The English… those Englishmen! When will God's just vengeance fall on them?" She had felt a similar aversion to Sa'd Zaghlul himself for a long time, until Kamal had finally convinced her it was impossible to detest a person Fahmy had loved. With obvious anxiety she asked, "What do you mean, Kamal? Are we returning to the days of suffering?"

He replied resentfully, "Only God knows!"

Her discomfort was apparent in her facial contractions. She said, "May God preserve us from suffering. We'll leave them to the wrath of Almighty God. This is the best policy. To throw ourselves to destruction is madness. Let us take refuge with God."

"Don't alarm yourself. Death is inescapable. People die for one reason or another — or for none at all."

She responded indignantly, "I don't deny that what you say is true, but I dislike your tone."

"How should I talk?"

With compelling emotion she said, "I want you to state that you agree it's sinful for a man to risk his life."