Palace of Desire tct-2

by Naguib Mahfouz

  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?

  76

  "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."

  The man knocking at the door had received a reply. The door latch had been lifted. "You won't be charmed by sweet nothings until you've swallowed her scoldings," he counseled himself. "Be steady and firm… steady."

  Borrowing a phrase from seminary students, Yasin said, "If I have done anything to offend you, I shall never forgive myself as long as I live."

  She replied critically, "The roof terrace of Umm Ali the midwife's house is the same height as ours. What would someone think if he saw you standing there while I'm hanging out the laundry?" Then she added sarcastically, "Or do you want to cause a scandal for me?"

  "May nothing evil happen to you," he thought. "Were you so cautious when you gazed at Julian in the old days? But not so fast… the beauty of your eyes and rump make up for any former or future misconduct."

  "May God not spare my life a moment longer," he protested, "if I intended to harm you. I hid under the jasmine arbor until the sun set and did not approach the wall separating our houses until I was certain Umm All's roof was vacant."

  Then, sighing audibly, he continued: "I have the added excus
e that I've gotten in the habit of coming here to enjoy the solitude. When I found just now that no one else was present I was transported by joy. In any case our Lord will shield us…"

  "Amazing!.. Why all this effort?"

  "That's hardly a naive question," he thought. "Their questions reflect their experience. She has condescended to converse with you. Congratulations on this conversation."

  Out loud he said, "I told myself, 'Nothing could be sweeter than greeting her and hearing her answer.'"

  The way she turned her head to look at him revealed even in the semidarkness that she was trying not to laugh. She replied, "Your words are more inflated than your body. I wonder what's behind all this talk of yours?"

  "Behind it? Why not come closer to the wall? I have a lot to say. For some time now when I chance to look at the ground on leaving the house I've noticed the shadow of a moving hand. If I look up, I see you glancing down from the wall of the roof terrace. That sight is so beautiful it's unforgettable."

  She turned to face him but did not move a step closer. Then she said accusingly, "How dare you look up! If you truly were a good neighbor, as you claim, you wouldn't harm a woman this way. Your evil intentions have become clear from your confession and couduc: here."

  His intentions really were evil. Was fornication the result of good ones? "These are the kinds of evil intentions you love," tie reflected. "You women are the limit. In an hour you'll demand it as one of your rights. In two hours' time, I'll be fleeing, while you pursue me. All the same, tonight's as sweet as jasmine."

  "God knows my intentions are good," he declared. "I glanced up because I can't keep myself from looking wherever you are. Haven't you understood that? Haven't you felt it? Your longtime neighbor is speaking out, even if it's rather late."

  Mockingly she said, "Speak. Give free rein to your hot air. Raise your voice…. What would you do if your stepmother surprised us on the roof like this?"

  "Don't change the subject, bitch. It will be a miracle if I ever convince you," he reflected. "Do you really fear my stepmother? Oh… one night in this woman's embrace will be worth a whole lifetime."

  "I'll hear her footsteps first," he explained. "Let's not get distracted from what we're doing."

  "What are we doing?"

  "Something so exalted that it defies description."

  "It doesn't seem that way to me. Perhaps you're doing it alone."

  "Perhaps. Then it's thoroughly heartrending. It's devastating when a heart speaks out and finds no one who will respond. I remember the days when you used to visit our house, those days when we were all like a single family, and I sigh with regret."

  Shaking her head, she muttered, "Those days!"

  "Return to the past?" he asked himself. "I've made a grave mistake. Don't let painful memories spoil your whole effort. Concentrate on setting aside everything but the present."

  He said, "When I finally saw you, I beheld a young woman as beautiful as a flower that blooms by night and illuminates the darkness. I seemed to be seeing you for the first time. I asked myself, 'Could this be our neighbor Mary am who used to play with Khadija and Aisha?' Certainly not! This girl has matured into a perfect beauty. I felt that the world around me had been transformed."

  Her tone mischievous once more, she replied, "In the old days your eyes did not take such liberties. You were a neighbor in every sense of the word. But what's left of those days? Everything's changed. We've become like strangers, as though we had never spoken to each other and had not grown up as a single family. This is the way your family wants it."

  "Let's not think about that. Don't add to my distress."

  "Now you allow your eyes to look anywhere… through the window, from the street, and here you are accosting me on the roof."

  "What's keeping you from leaving if you really want to?" he wondered. "O light of my darkness, your lies are sweeter than honey."

  "This is only a small part of it," he told her. "I'm looking at you even when you don't suspect it. I see you in my imagination more often than you could guess. I tell myself, knowing full well what I say, 'Give me life with her or death.'"

  The whisper of a suppressed laugh made his heart tremble. "Where do you find such phrases?" she asked.

  Gesturing toward his breast, he replied, "In my heart!"

  She moved her foot and caused her slipper to scuff the roof as though she were about to depart. Without quitting her post she said, "Since the discussion has reached the heart, I must leave."

  In his ardor, his voice grew louder until he caught himself and lowered it: "No! You must come. Come to me. Now and forever". Then he added sneakily, "To my heart. It and all it possesses are yours."

  In a tone of mocking admonishment she advised him, "Don't abuse yourself this way. God forbid that I should deprive you of your heart and its possessions."

  "How well do you understand what I'm saying?" he wondered. "When I speak to you, I'm addressing the bitch I love. You're no fool. The memory of Julian makes that clear. Come here, girl. You take after your old lady. I'm afraid I'll light up the darkness with the intense fire flaming inside my body."

  "I'll gladly give you my heart and all its possessions," he proclaimed. "Its only happiness is for you to accept it and possess it, if you will belong to it alone."

  She answered laughingly, "You crafty fellow, don't you see you want to take rather than give?"

  "Where did you learn to talk like that?" he puzzled. "Not even Zanuba, when I was seeing her, could compare. What a cursed place the world would be without you."

  "I want you to be mine," he said. "And for me to be yours. What's unfair about that?"

  Silence reigned as a look was exchanged by two shadows. Then she said, "Perhaps they're asking now what's keeping you.

  Artfully attempting to win her sympathy, he replied, "There's no one in the world who cares about me."

  At that, her tone changed and she asked seriously, "How's your son?… Is he still with his grandfather?"

  "What's behind this question?" he wondered.

  "Yes,' he answered.

  "How old is he now?"

  "Five…."

  "What's become of his mother?"

  "I think she's either married or about to be."

  "What a pity! Why didn't you take her back, if only for Ridwan's sake?"

  "Bitch!" he thought. "Explain what you're getting at."

  "Would you really have wanted that?" he asked.

  She laughed gently and replied, "How lucky the man is who brings two people together in a moral way."

  "Or immoral?" he wondered.

  "I don't look back," he stated.

  There ensued a strange silence that seemed thoughtful. Then in a voice that was both tender and admonitory she said, "You better not try to catch me on the roof again."

  He answered daringly, "Whatever you command. The roof isn't a safe place. Did you know I have a house in Palace of Desire Alley?"

  She called out incredulously, "Your own house! Welcome to the man of property."

  He was silent for a time, as though wishing to be cautious. Then he said, "Guess what's on my mind."

  "That's no concern of mine."

  "Silence, darkness, seclusion…" he thought, "what a dreadful effect the gloom has on my nerves…."

  "I was thinking," he declared, "of the two adjoining walls of our roofs. What does their image make you think of?"

  "Nothing."

  "The sight of two lovers clinging together."

  "I don't like to hear talk like that."

  "The fact that they're next to each other also reminds me that nothing separates them."

  "Ha!" This exclamation escaped like an enticing threat.

  Laughingly he continued: "It's as though they were telling me, 'Cross over.'"

  She retreated two steps until her back touched a sheet hung out to dry. Then she whispered with genuine reproach, "I won't allow this!"

  "This!.. What's 'this'?"

  "This kind of talk."


  "What of the deed itself?"

  "I'm going to leave angry."

  "Don't do that. I swear by your precious life …"

  "Do you mean what you're saying?" he asked himself. "Am I a greater fool than I suspect or are you more clever than I imagine? Why did you mention Ridwan and his mother? … Should you allude to marriage? How intensely do you want her? Madly…."

  Maryam said suddenly, "Oh… what's keeping me here?" She turned around and bent her head down to duck under the wash.

  He called after her anxiously, "Are you leaving without saying goodbye?"

  She lifted her head high to look back over the laundry and remarked, "Enter 'houses by their doors.' That's my farewell message for you". (Qur'an, 2:189.) She quickly made her way to the stairway door and disappeared through it.

  Yasin returned to the sitting room. He excused his long absence to Amina by referring to the heat indoors and then went to his room to don his suit. Kamal watched his older brother with thoughtful amazement, but when he looked back at his mother he found her calm and reassured. She had finished drinking her coffee and was reading the grounds. Kamal wondered how she would react if she knew what had taken place on the roof.

  Kamal himself was still perturbed by the scene of the couple conversing privately, which he had accidentally witnessed on following his brother to see what was delaying him. Yasin had done tha t. Did the memory of Fahmy mean so little to him? He could net imagine that. Yasin had loved Fahmy sincerely and had grieved for him deeply. It was impossible to doubt his sincerity. Moreover, incidents like this were commonplace. Kamal did not know why people always linked Fahmy and Maryam. His late brother had learned of the girl's affair with Julian before it was finished. A long time had passed after that. Fahmy had apparently forgotten her and gone on to loftier and more significant matters. That was all she deserved, for she had never been good enough for him. What Kamal really needed to think about was whether love could be forgotten. He believed it could not, but how did he know Fahmy had loved Maryam in the way Kamal understood and felt the term. Perhaps it had merely been a powerful desire like that currently overwhelming Yasin or even like that outgrown desire Kamal had once felt for Maryam. It had toyed with him when he reached puberty, playing havoc with his dreams. Yes, that had happened. It had afflicted him in two ways: through the equally powerful torments of desire and remorse. Only Maryam's marriage and subsequent disappearance from their lives had rescued hira.