The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street

by Naguib Mahfouz

  “As you can see, I'm in the dark too. It hurts to be exposed in front of people the way I was last night.”

  Shrugging her shoulders disdainfully, she said, “Don't worry about it. There's not a man alive who hasn't more dirty linen than the earth has room to hide.”

  “Just the same, a scandal's a scandal. Think of the fight, the wailing, the divorce at dawn. Picture the neighbors coming with alarmed curiosity to my apartment. Their eyes took in everything.”

  She frowned and said, “She started it!”

  He could not restrain his sardonic laughter. She persisted: “If she had been wise, she could have worked everything out. Even str⊘ngen, in the street are considerate to boisterous drunks. She's the one who brought the divorce down on herself. What did you say to her? 'Whore and daughter of a whore'? Huh? And something else about English soldiers?”

  He only remembered this now. Giving her a peeved look, he wondered how these phrases had taken root in her memory. He muttered uneasily, “I was angry. I didn't know what I was saying.”

  “Humbug!”

  “Humbug to you!”

  “English soldiers? Did you get her from one of their haunts like the Finish Bar?”

  “God forbid. She's from a decent family, lifelong neighbors. It was just anger, a thousand curses on it.”

  “Without anger, secrets would never come to light.”

  “By your aunt's life, we have enough trouble as it is.”

  “Tell me about the English soldiers, as if there was anything I didn't know about them___”

  In a loud, defiant voice he replied, “I told you it was anger. That'll do.”

  She groaned sarcastically and then asked, “Are you defending her? Then go get her back.”

  “Curses on anyone shameless and cold-blooded enough to do that.”

  “Curses….”

  She got out of bed and went to the mirror. Picking up Maryam's comb, she began to fix her hair quickly as she asked, “What will I do if the man breaks up with me?”

  “Tell him goodbye. My house is always open to you.”

  She turned toward him and said sadly, “You don't understand what you're saying. We were thinking seriously about marriage.”

  “Marriage! Haven't you dropped that idea after you saw what it's like last night?”

  She answered shrewdly, “You don't understand. I'm tired of being a kept woman. All it brings is ruin. A woman like me who weds really values her marriage.”

  “Who's the idiot?” he asked himself. “In the troupe she was never anything more than a lute player. After thirty a prostitute's over the hill, and she'll be thirty soon. So marriage is her best bet. Is she aiming this talk at you? What a delightful devil! I won't deny I want her. I desire her in the strongest possible way. My scandal bears witness to that.”

  “Do you love him?”

  As if angered, she replied, “If I loved him, you wouldn't find me imprisoned here now.”

  Although skeptical of her veracity, he longed for her. Yes, even if her heart was not sincere, she had clearly shown a weakness for him.

  “I can't do without you, Zanuba. To get you, I've done crazy things, not caring about the consequences. You're mine, and I've been yours for a long time.”

  Silence reigned. She seemed to be waiting impatiently for more. When he did not continue, she asked, “Should I sever my ties with that man? I'm not a woman who can bounce back and forth between two lovers.”

  “Who ishe?”

  “A merchant from the Citadel region called Muhammad al-Qulali.”

  “Married?”

  “And he's got children, but he has lots of money.”

  “He promised to marry you?”

  “He's trying to talk me into it, but I've been hesitating. The circumstances and the fact that he's a husband and father suggest there could be problems.”

  He put up with her deceitfulness for the sake of her beautiful eyes. “Why don't we go back to the way we were. I'm not destitute, in any case.”

  “I don't care about your money, but I'm sick of living in sin.”

  “What's to be done?”

  “That's what I'm asking.”

  “Explain.”

  “I've said more than enough.”

  What an unexpected attack! Yes, at first glance it seemed ludicrous, but he wanted her. So he was forced to play along. After a pause he said, “I won't try to hide my low opinion of marriage from you.”

  “I have a low opinion of living in sin.”

  “That wasn't how you talked yesterday.”

  “Then I had a husband within reach, but today…”

  “With a little flexibility, we can meet each other halfway. There's one thing you must never lose sight of: No matter how long I stey with you, I'll never let you go.”

  She cried out defiantly, “Your past adventures really bear that out!”

  To hide the weakness of his position he replied earnestly, “A man doesn't learn without paying a price.”

  “Words no longer beguile me. Shame on you men!”

  “And on you women too … isn't that so?” he thought. “Have mercy, niece of Zubayda. You arrive here drunk after midnight, and in the morning you're tired of living in sin. Perhaps she told herself, ‘If his second wife was a whore, why shouldn't I be the third one?’ How low Yasin has fallen. Have you forgotten the trouble ready to pounce on you outside? Let those problems wait. Just don't lose Zanuba with an ugly remark the way you did Maryam. Maryam? I'm atoning for my sin now, Fahmy.”

  He said calmly, “Our relationship must not end.”

  “It's up to you whether it continues or ends.”

  “We need to meet a lot and think a lot.”

  “As far as I'm concerned, I don't need to think anymore.”

  “So either I convince you of my opinion or you convince me of the wisdom of yours.”

  “I'll never come around to yours.”

  She left the room and did not let him see her smile. He gazed after her rounded back with a look of amazement. Yes, everything seemed amazing. But where was Maryam? On her own, wherever she was. He would not get any rest or peace. He would be questioned tomorrow at Palace Walk and the following day at the Islamic court. All the same, their life during the last period had been one long wrangle. She had even told him quite bluntly, “I hate you and I hate living with you.”

  “I wasn't made to succeed in marriage. Was my grandfather's life like this? I'm the one in the family who most resembles him, so they say. Despite all this, that crazy woman wants to marry me.”

  99

  THE SUN was about to set when al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad crossed i:he wooden gangplank to the houseboat. He rang the bell, and the door soon opened to reveal Zanuba in a white silk dress sheer enough to show off her body. On seeing him she cried out, “Welcome! Welcome! Tell me what you did yesterday. I imagine you came, rang the bell in vain, and stood there for a time before leaving”. She laughed. “And you must have had some awful suspicions. So tell me what you did.”

  Despite the elegance of his appearance and the fragrance of his cologne, his face looked grim and his displeasure was visible in his staring eyes. “Where were you yesterday?” he asked.

  She went into the sitting room ahead of him, pausing in the center of the room near two windows that opened on the Nile. She took a chair between the windows, pretending to be calm, collected, and cheerful. Then she answered, “I went out yesterday, as you know, to do some shopping. On my way I ran into Yasmina. the vocalist, and she invited me to her house. But she refused to let me leave and pestered me until I was forced to spend the night with her. I hadn't seen her since I moved to the houseboat. If you could have heard her criticize my disloyalty and ask me about the secret charm of this man who'd been able to make me forget my relatives and neighbors …”

  Was she telling the truth or lying? Had he actually endured all those pains yesterday and today pointlessly? He knew the reason for every millieme he gained or lost. How could he hav
e suffered those frightful torments for no reason at all? The world was a tricky place, but if this devil was telling the truth, he was prepared to kiss the ground at her feet. He had to determine whether it was true, even if that took the rest of his life. Had the time come for him to return to his senses? “Not so fast…” he admonished himself.

  “When did you return to the houseboat?”

  She lifted a leg and began to study her pink slipper decorated with a white rose and her toes tinted with henna. Then she said,“Why don't you sit down first and take off your fez so I can see the part in your hair. Sir, I came home a little before noon.”

  “Liar!” The word shot out like a bullet coated with rage and despair. Before she could open her mouth, he continued violently: “Liar! You didn't return before noon or after noon. I came here twice during the day and didn't find you.”

  She was speechless for a time. Then she said in a tone of indignant surrender, “The truth is that I got home just before sunset, about an hour ago. There was no reason for me to make up a story, but when I noticed the groundless look of displeasure in your eyes I wanted to dispel it. The fact is that this morning Yasmina insisted I go shopping with her. When she learned I had left my aunt's ensemble, she suggested I join hers, so I could substitute for her occasionally at a wedding. Naturally I didn't agree, because I knew without asking that you wouldn't be happy if I stayed out late with the troupe. What I'm trying to say is that I remained with her because I knew you wouldn't get here before nine. This is the story. So sit down and bless the Prophet.”

  “A trumped-up tale or the truth?” he wondered. “What if your friends saw you in this fix? The fates are certainly making fun of you. I'd forgive twice as much as this if I could win a little peace of mind. You're begging now. You never had to beg before. You've humiliated yourself for this lute player. She once had the job of waiting on you. She served you fruit at parties and departed in decorous silence. If I can't reassure myself, let the fires of hell flame up.”

  “Yasmina doesn't live in never-never land. I'll ask her if this story's true.”

  Waving her hand to show her disdain and disapproval, she answered, “Ask her anything you want.”

  He got control of his frayed and refractory nerves all of a sudden and said stubbornly, “I'll ask her this evening. I'm going to look for her. Now! I've satisfied all your requests. You must respect my rights completely.”

  She caught his contagious fury and responded sharply, “Not so fast! Don't insult me to my face. I've been very lenient with you until now, but everything has a limit. I'm a person made of flesh and blood. Open your eyes and pray to Fatima's father Muhammad.”

  He asked in astonishment, “Is this the tone you use to address me?”

  “Yes, since that's how you're talking to me.”

  The grip of his hand on his stick tightened as he yelled, “I'm entitled to, since I'm the one who made you a lady and prepared a life for you that Zubayda herself would envy.”

  His statement provoked her, and like a raging lioness she snarled, “God made me a lady, not you. I only accepted a life like this after you pleaded with me fervently. Have you forgotten that? I'm not your captive or your slave. An interrogation and a police report what do you think I am? Did you buy me with your money? If you don't like the way I live, then each of us can go bis own way.”

  “Lord of the heavens,” he reflected, “is this how manicured nails turn into claws? If you still have any doubts about last night, then consider this impudent tone. You're suffering from tyranny like Nimrod's. Swallow the pain to the dregs. Drink the abuse till you've had your fill. So what's your response? Scream in her face, as loud as you can, ‘Go back to the street where I found you!’ Scream, yes, scream. What's stopping you? God's curse on the saboteur! The heart's treachery is far worse than a thousand other forms of treason. This is the romantic abasement you've heard about and mocked. How I'll hate myself for loving her!”

  “Would you throw me out?” he asked.

  In the same belligerent tone she said, “If your understanding of our relationship is that I'm to stay here as your prisoner while you make accusations against me whenever you please, then the best thing for both of us is to break it off.”

  She turned her face away from him. He studied her cheek and the side of her neck with an unnatural calm that was almost trancelike. “The ultimate happiness I ask of God is casting her aside without a second thought. She has humiliated and angered you, but could you bear to come here and find no trace of her?”

  “I have little confidence in you, but I didn't think your ingratitude would reach this point.”

  “Do you want me to be a stone with no feelings or sense of honor?”

  “If ycu only realized,” he reflected, “that you're even less than that___”

  But he replied, “No, I want you to be a person who recognizes the rights arising from good deeds and companionship.”

  Changing from an angry tone to one of complaint, she said, “I've done more for you than you can imagine. I consented to leave my family and my profession to stay wherever you chose. I haven't even complained about it, to avoid troubling your peace of mind. I didn't wish to tell you in so many words that certain people want a better life for me than this, although I haven't paid any attention to them.”

  “Are there to be more problems, ones I haven't anticipated?” he asked himself.

  “What do you mean?” he inquired indignantly.

  She toyed with her gold bracelets, spinning them around her left arm. Then she said, “A respectable gentleman wishes to marry me. He won't take no for an answer.”

  “The heat and the humidity are stifling you,” he thought, “and this shrew is opening her mouth to swallow you whole. How lucky that seaman is, trimming his sail outside the window….”

  “Who ishe?”

  “Someone you don't know. Call him any name you want.”

  He took a step back and sat down on a sofa flanked by two armchairs. Gripping the handle of his stick with both hands, he asked, “When did he see you? How did you learn of his intentions?”

  “He saw me often when I lived with my aunt. Recently he's attempted to speak to me whenever he's run into me on the street, but I've ignored him. So he got one of my girlfriends to tell me. That's the whole story.”

  “How many stories you have!” he mused. “When I found you gone yesterday, a single pain devastated me. At the time I wasn't aware of all these other pains and troubles. Leave her if you can. Break with her. That's the way to find peace. Aren't people wrong to imagine death's the worst thing we face?”

  “I want to know whether you wish to accept this proposal.”

  With a nervous flick of her wrist she stopped playing with her bracelets and stared at him haughtily. Then she asserted grandly, “I told you I ignored him. You should understand what that means.”

  “You mustn't go to bed tonight with such lethal thoughts,” he counseled himself. “You don't need another night like the last one. Shield yourself from these fears.”

  “Tell me frankly whether any man has visited you on the houseboat.”

  “A man? What man do you have in mind? You're the only man who emers this houseboat.”

  “Zanuba, I can ferret it all out. Don't be secretive. Tell me everything, even trivial details. Then I'll forgive you, no matter what.”

  She protested angrily, “If you keep doubting my truthfulness, the best thing is for us to part.”

  “Remember the fly you saw die this morning in a spider's web?” he asked himself.

  “Enough ofthat. Teil me if this man met you yesterday.”

  “I told you where I went.”

  In spite of himself he snorted, “Why do you torment me? I've never wanted anything so much as to make you happy.”

  She clapped her hands together, as though finding his suspicions hard to bear. Then she said, “Why won't you understand me? I've sacrificed everything I value for your sake.”

  What a beautiful son
g it was! The calamity was that it could easily have come from an empty heart, for a singer can dissolve into a sad and plaintive song while intoxicated with happy triumph.

  “With God as your witness, tell me frankly who this man is.”

  “Why does it matter to you? I said you don't know him. He's a merchant from another district, but he used to frequent the coffeehouse of al-Sayyid Ali occasionally.”

  “His name?”

  “Abd al-Tawwab Yasin. Do you know him?”

  “I leased this houseboat to have a good time,” he reminded himself. “Remember the happy hours? World, do you recall the Ahmad Abd al-Jawad whom nothing fazed? Zubayda, Jalila, Bahija… ask those ladies about him. No doubt he's some other man not this anxious fellow with white ravaging the hair of his temples.”

  “The devil of unhappiness,” he observed, “is the most energetic one.”

  “No, it's the devil of doubt, because he's able to create something from nothing.”

  He began to rap the floor with the tip of his stick. Then in a deep voice he said, “I don't want to live like a blind man. Certainly not! And nothing can make me violate my manly sense of honor. In brief, I can't tolerate your absence last night.”

  “We're back to that again!”

  “And again and again and again. I'm not a child, and you're an adult too, a sensible woman. Today you've been telling me about that man. Has his promise of marriage really duped you?”

  She answered proudly, “I know he's not deceiving me. His promise not to approach me till we're married is a proof of that.”

  “Does this marriage tempt you?”

  She frowned disapprovingly and then said as if astonished, “Didn't you hear what I said? I'm amazed at how slow you are today. At any rate, you're not your normal self. Shake off this gloom you've needlessly courted and listen to me one last time: I ignored the man and his wish for your sake.”

  He wanted to learn how old this man was but did not know how to phrase the question. Youth and age were not mattershe had paid attention to before. After some hesitation he said, “Perhapshe's a callow youth who says things without thinking about them.”

  “He's no child. He's in his thirties.”