Naguib Mahfouz - Palace of Desire

In a strained voice, suggesting both resignation and defiance, Ibrahim answered, "Calm down so you'll be relaxed when you see your father."

How could she relax? The old lady had devised the most terrible vengeance. Shortly Khadija would be summoned before her father. Her blood ran cold at the thought of this encounter. Then Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad's screams resounded through the closed door of their room. These were followed by Ahmad's sobs. Khadija, despite her plumpness, jumped up quickly and headed for their bedroom. Pushing the door open, she entered and screamed, "What's the meaning of this? Haven't I forbidden you to fight a thousand times? The one I'm after is whoever started this."

Once' she had disappeared behind the door, Ibrahim said, "The poor dear seems to have a deep-rooted antagonism against tranquillity. Beginning first thing in the morning, she wades into a long series of skirmishes lasting the whole day. She doesn't quiet down until she goes to bed. Everything has to yield to her will and design — the servant, the food, the furniture, the chickens, Abd al-Muni'm, Ahmad, and me. Everything must adjust to her system. I feel sorry for her. I assure you that our residence could enjoy the most systematic order without any need for this obsessive behavior."

Smiling, Khalil said, "May our Lord come to her aid."

"And help me too!" Ibrahim added as he smilingly shook his head. Then he took his cigarette case out of the pocket of his black overcoat. He rose to offer it to his brother, who accepted a cigarette.

Ibrahim invited Aisha to have one as well, but she laughingly declined. Pointing to the door behind which Khadija had disappeared, she said, "Let's give the hour every possible chance of going smoothly."

Ibrahim resumed his seat and lit a cigarette. Gesturing toward the same door, he remarked, "A court of law. There's a trial being conducted in there now. But she'll treat the two defendants mercifully, even if that's against her better judgment."

Khadija returned, grumbling, "How can I enjoy any peace in this house? How and when?"

She sat down and sighed. Then, addressing Aisha, she said, "I looked out through the balcony peephole and saw that the mud left behind by yesterday's rain is still covering the road. So tell me, by your Lord, how my father's supposed to walk through it? Why this stubbornness?"

Aisha asked her, "What about the sky? What does it look like now?"

"Overcast! All the alleys will be lakes by nightfall, but is that enough to make your mother-in-law postpone, even for a day, the evil she's hatching? No, she went to the store despite the hardship walking there posed. And then she hounded the man until he promised to come. Anyone hearing her complain about me in the store under such adverse conditions would have thought I was a cold-blooded killer like those dreadful women in Alexandria: Rayya and Sakina."

They all laughed, seizing the opportunity she had provided to release their tension. Ibrahim asked, "Do you think you're less dangerous than the thieving sisters Rayya and Sakina?"

They heard someone knock on their door. When Khadija's servant opened it, the maid Suwaydan's face appeared. She glanced fearfully at Khadija and said, "My senior master has arrived". Then she speedily vanished.

Khadija's color drained from her face, and she said in a faint voice, "Don't leave us alone together."

She waited for Aisha to cast a searching look at her reflection in the mirror to see that her face was free of makeup. Then they left the apartment together.

Directly under a portrait of the late Mr. Shawkat, al-Sayyid AJhmad Abd al-Jawad sat on a couch in the center of a room decorated in the old style. Widow Shawkat, the mother of Khalil and Ibrahim, was sitting in a nearby armchair wearing a thick coat, which despite its bulk did not conceal her scrawniness or her bent back. Hier face had grown thin, and her deep wrinkles were surrounded by folds of dry skin. Nothing about her remained the same except her gold teeth.

Al-Sayyid Ahmad was no stranger to this room or its antique furnishings, the age of which detracted in no way from the magnificence. If the curtains had faded and the velvet of some of the chairs and couches had become bald or torn on the arms or backs, the Persian carpet had a lasting splendor and an increasing value. The room was fragrant with a delicate incense of which the old lady was enamored.

Leaning on her parasol, she said, "I told myself that if al-Sayyid Ahmad didn't come as he promised, he's not my son and I'm not his mother."

He smiled and said, "God forbid. I'm obedient to your command. I'm your son and Khadija's your daughter."

She made a face and said, "All of you are my children. Mrs. Amina is a fine daughter to me. You're a prince of a man. But Khadija…" She looked at him, and her eyes grew wide as she continued: "Khadija did not inherit a single quality from her excellent parents". Then, shaking her head, she added, "O Gracious One, be gracious to us."

Al-Sayyid Ahmad responded apologetically, "I'm shocked that she's made you so angry. The matter comes as an immense surprise to me. I won't stand for this at all. But won't you tell me what she's done?"

Frowning, the woman said, "This has been going on for a long time. We've kept everything from you out of respect for the pleas of her mother, all of whose attempts to reform Khadija have failed. But I won't say anything behind her back, al-Sayyid, sir, as I declared to you at the store."

At that moment the group arrived. Ibrahim entered first, followed by Khalil, Aisha, and finally Khadija. They shook hands with al-Sayyid Ahmad one by one until it was Khadija's turn.

She leaned over with exemplary politeness to kiss her father's hand. The old lady could not restrain herself from saying in astonishment, "Lord, what is this charade of manners? Are you really Khadija? Don't let appearances deceive you, al-Sayyid Ahmad."

Khalil said to his mother critically, "Won't you give our father a chance to catch his breath? There's really no need for a tribunal."

The woman's voice grew louder as she replied, "Why are you here? What's brought all of you? Leave her with us, and the rest of you can go in peace."

Ibrahim said gently, "Think of God."

She shouted at him, "I'm acting more devoutly than you, you mule. If you were a real man, there would have been no reason for me to call in this fine gentleman. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be sound asleep as usual?"

Khadija was relieved at this opening. She hoped the quarrel would grow so intense that it would eclipse her case. But al-Sayyid Ahmad blocked the road for the anticipated battle between the old lady and her sons by saying in a loud voice, "What's this I've heard about you, Khadija? Is it true that you haven't been a polite and obedient daughter to your new mother? Asking God's forgiveness — she's a mother for all of us."

Khadija's hopes were disappointed, and she lowered her eyes. Her lips moved, but their whisper was indiscernible. She shook her head no.

The old lady waved her hand to get everyone's attention and began to speak: "This has been going on for a long time. I won't be able to recount all of it in one session. From her first day in this house she has opposed me for no reason whatsoever. She speaks to me with the sauciest tongue I've ever encountered in my whole life. I wouldn't like to repeat what I've heard over these five years or more. There have been many, many ugly remarks. She found fault with my management of the house and criticized my cooking. Can you imagine that, al-Sayyid, sir? She kept it up until she separated her living quarters from mine and thus split one home into two apartments. Even the maid Suwaydan was forbidden to enter Khadija's apartment, because Suwaydan is in my employ. Khadija hired a servant of her own. The roof! The roof terrace, al-Sayyid, sir, is very large, but she didn't think it big enough for both of us. I was forced to transfer my chickens to the courtyard. What else should I say, my son? This is a small sample, but we're not to blame. L told myself, 'What's done is done.' I bore it all and was patient, thinking that once she was independent of me the reasons for discord would be removed. But was my assumption correct? By your life, no!" She stopped talking, for she was overcome by a fit of coughing. She coughed so hard her veins swelled. Khadija prayed to God as she watched that He would carry off her mother-in-law before the indictment was finished. But the coughing died away. The old lady swallowed and recited the Muslim credo. Then, raising tearful eyes to al-Sayyid Ahmad, she asked in a voice not without a trace of huskiness, "Al-Sayyid Ahmad, do you have any aversion to calling me 'Mother'?"