Naguib Mahfouz - Palace of Desire

She was calm and silent. That was fitting. An angel from another world should not converse in a mortal tongue or take an interest in human affairs. Would it not have been nobler of him to guard his secret? Nobler? Pride vis-a-vis the beloved was blasphemy. For the assassin to be confronted with her victim was only proper.

"Do you remember your happy dream that left you in tears when you awoke? Dreams are quickly forgotten, but tears or rather the memory of them may become an immortal symbol."

Here she was saying, "I was only joking when I said those things, and I asked you then not to get angry."

This refreshing sensation deserved to be savored. It resembled the happy delight one feels after a throbbing toothache. The melodies latent within him echoed each other until a beautiful tune emerged. His beloved's features seemed the musical notation from which he was reading a heavenly composition.

"You'll find I'm content with hoping for nothing, because as I told you I love you."

With her natural grace she cast him a smiling look but withdrew it too quickly for him to decipher it. What kind of look had it been? Was she pleased, moved, affectionate, responsive, or politely sarcastic? Had she bestowed it on his face as a whole or directed it toward his head and nose?

Then her voice followed this look: "I can only thank you and apologize for unintentionally causing you pain. You're kind and generous."

His soul was ready to convey him to the warm embrace of happy dreams, but she added in a faint voice, "Now let me ask what follows from this."

Was he hearing the voice of his beloved or an echo of his own? This very sentence was soaring somewhere over Palace Walk, borne aloft by his sighs. Had the time come for him to find an answer for this question?

He asked anxiously, "Does something follow from love?"

"She's smiling," he thought. "I wonder what this smile means. But you want something more than a smile."

She answered, "The declaration is the beginning, not the end. I'd like to know what you want."

Still anxious, he said, "I want… I want you to give me permission to Jove you."

She could not hold back her laughter. She inquired, "Is this really what you want? But what will you do if I refuse?"

Sighing, he replied, "In that case, I'll love you anyway." In a half-joking manner that upset him she asked, "What's the point of the permission then?"

How absurd it was when words betrayed a person and came out wrong…. What he feared most was falling back to earth as suddenly as he had risen from it. He heard her say, "You perplex nie. It seems to me that you even perplex yourself."

He answered uneasily, "Me… perplexed? Perhaps, but I love you. 'What follows from this?' I imagine occasionally that I aspire to things beyond the earth's capacities. But when I reflect a little, I'm unable to ascertain what my goal is. You tell me what this means.1 want you to talk while I listen. Can you rescue me from my dilemma?"

She said with a smile, "I don't have anything to offer in this regard. You ought to be the speaker. I'll do the listening. Aren't you a philosopher?"

His face turning red, he commented dejectedly, "You're making fun of me."

She was quick to answer, "No. But I wasn't anticipating a conversation like this when I left my house. You caught me by surprise, telling me things I wasn't expecting to hear. In any case, I'm thankful and grateful. No one would be able to forget your tender and refined affection. It would be out of the question to make fun of them."

It was a captivating tune with sweet lyrics. Yet he did not know whether the beloved was being serious or frivolous. Were the portals of hope opening… or closing with the gentleness of a breeze? When she had asked him what he wanted, he had not replied, because he had not known what he did want. Would it be wrong to say that he longed for communion, the communion of one spirit with another? Should he knock at the mysterious closed door with a hug or a kiss? Shouldn't that be the answer?

At the intersection where Palaces Street ended, A'ida stopped and said gently but decisively, "Here!"

He stopped walking too and gazed at her face with astonishment. " 'Here' meaning we must part here?" he wondered. "The sentence love you' is not far-reaching enough to rule out questions."

With no deliberation or thought, he exclaimed, "No!" Then, as though he had suddenly seen the light, he cried out, "What's the point of love? Wasn't that what you were really asking? Here's an answer for you: that we don't part."

With a calm smile, she replied, "But we must part now."

He asked fervently, "Without any displeasure or ill feelings?"

"Absolutely not."

"Will you resume your visits to the gazebo?"

"If circumstances permit."

He anxiously reminded her, "Circumstances permitted it in the past."

"Things are different now."

He was deeply hurt by her response and said, "It seems you won't return."

As though to remind him of the necessity of parting, she said, "I'll visit the gazebo whenever circumstances allow it. Have a happy day."

She set off in the direction of School Street. He stood there gazing after her as though she were a dream vision. When a turn in the road was about to hide her, she looked back with a smile. Then she vanished from sight.

What had he said and heard? He would concentrate on all that shortly, after he came to. When would that be? He was walking all by himself. Alone? … What of the pounding of his heart, the delirium of his spirit, and the echoes of that melody? All the same, a feeling of isolation shook his heart to its core. The captivating, enchanting fragrance of jasmine overwhelmed him, but what was its special ingredient? This fragrance and love were similar in their mysterious and captivating enchantment. Perhaps penetration of one's secret would lead to discovery of the other's. Yet he would not solve this puzzle until he finished reciting all the anthems of bewilderment.

Husayn Shaddad said, "Alas, this is our farewell meeting."

Kama! was peeved by this reference to leave-taking. He glanced quickly at Husayn to see if his face was actually as sorrowful as his words. All the same, Kamal had been aware of a valedictory atmosphere for more than a week, because the arrival of June usually signaled the departure of his friends for Ra's al-Barr and Alexandria. It was only a matter of days until the garden, the gazebo, and his friends would vanish from his horizons. The beloved had been pleased to disappear even before departure necessitated it. She had remained invisible even after reconciliation crowned their conversation on Palaces Street. Was the farewell meeting to conclude without a visit? Did his affection mean so little to her that she would begrudge him a fleeting vision before leaving for three months?

Kama! smilingly asked, "Why do you say, 'Alas'?"

Husayn Shaddad responded attentively, "I wish you would all go with me to Ra's al-Barr. My goodness! What a summer vacation that would be!"

It would be marvelous, no doubt about it. Kamal would be happy, if only because the beloved would not be able to continue hiding there. Isma'il Latif remarked to him, "May God come to your aid. How can you bear the summer heat here? Summer has barely begun, and yet see how hot it is today."

It was very hot, although the sun's rays were no longer shining directly on the garden or the desert beyond it. Even so, Kamal replied calmly, "There's nothing in life that can't be borne."

The next moment he was scoffing at his own words. He wondered how he could have responded that way and to what degree w ords could be considered a true expression of feelings. Around him he saw people who certainly looked happy. In their short-sleeved shirts and gray trousers, they seemed to be defying the heat. Only he was wearing a suit — a lightweight white one — and a fez, which he had placed on the table.