Palace of Desire tct-2 Read online

  His only response was glum silence. She screamed, "What dreadful news! Those people who gloated over our greatest misfortune?"

  He could not keep from crying at her, "I entreat you to swear to God you won't repeat that. It's false, imaginary. If my heart felt for a moment…"

  "Naturally, you defend them. But it's a defense that won't deceive anyone. Don't wear yourself out trying to convince me of such an absurdity. My Lord! Why is a catastrophe like this necessary? They're riddled with defects and vices. Is there one good point to justify this outrageous selection? You said you'd obtained your father's consent. The man doesn't know anything about these matters, so you should say you duped him."

  Yasin entreated her, "Calm down. I hate nothing more than making you angry. Calm yourself and let's talk quietly."

  "How can I listen to you when you've given me this harsh slap? Say the matter's nothing more than a sillyjoke. Mary am? The girl's no good. You know that as well as anyone. Have you forgotten her scandalous past? Have you really forgotten that? Do you want to bring that girl into our home?"

  Exhaling, as though to rid his breast of its sorrow and turmoil, Yasin said, "That's not at all what I said. Whether we live here or not is unimportant. What's really important to me is for you to examine the question seriously, setting aside your prejudice."

  "What prejudice, fellow? Have I accused her falsely? You say that your father consented. Did you tell him about her scandalous flirtation with the English soldier? My Lord, what's come over children from good families?"

  "Calm down. Let's have a quiet conversation. What's the use of all this agitation?"

  She shouted at him with a sharpness that would have been totally alien to her in the old days, "I can't be calm about a matter threatening our honor". In a tearful voice she continued: "And you're insulting the memory of your precious brother."

  Swallowing, Yasin said, "My brother? May God be merciful to him and grant him a spacious abode in paradise. This question doesn't reflect on his memory in any way. Believe me, I know what I'm saying. Don't disturb his repose."

  "I'm not the one disturbing him. You are, since you want that girl. You know it, Yasin. You can't deny it". With great emotion she added, "Perhaps you wanted her even back then."

  "Mother!"

  "I'm no longer sure of anything. How could I be, after this betrayal? Has the world become so small and desolate that the only girl you can find to marry is one who made your brother's heart bleed? Don't you remember how sad he was when we all heard the story of the English soldier?"

  Yasin spread his arms out in supplication, saying, "Let's postpone this conversation to another time. I'll prove to you that when my late brother heeded the call of his Lord there was no trace of emotion left for this girl. As for now, the atmosphere is no longer appropriate for a conversation."

  She shouted angrily at him, "It's inconceivable that there should ever be an appropriate atmosphere for me to hear talk like this. You have no respect for Fahmy's memory!"

  "I wish you could imagine how sad your words make me."

  Her wrath reached its ultimate peak as she yelled, "What sadness? You never grieved for your brother! There were strangers who grieved for him more than you did."

  "Mother!"

  Kamal attempted to intervene, but his mother silenced him with a gesture of her hand. She cried out, "Don't call me 'Mother.' I've been a mother to you, but you never were a son to me or a brother to my son."

  It was impossible for Yasin to stay any longer. He rose sadly and dejectedly, leaving the sitting room for his bedroom. Kamal soon joined him there, no less sad and dejected. He asked his older brother, "Didn't I warn you?"

  Frowning, Yasin said, "I won't stay in this house another minute'

  With alarm Kamal told him, "You've got to excuse her. You know my mother's changed. Even Father occasionally closes his eyes to her failings. It's just a flash of anger that will soon die down. Don't take her words seriously. That's all I ask."

  Sighing, Yasin said, "I don't hold it against her, Kamal. I won't forget all the happy years because of one bad hour. As you said, she's to be excused. But how can I show her my face morning and evening when this is what she thinks of me?"

  After some moments of gloomy silence, Yasin continued: Don't think that Maryam broke our late brother's heart. Fahmy asked permission to marry her one day and Father refused. Fahmy set the matter aside and finally forgot all about it. How is the girl to be blamed for that? And why am I to blame if I want to marry her, six years after all that happened?"

  Kamal said hopefully, "You haven't said anything that's not true, and Mother will quickly accept it. I trust your talk of leaving the house was merely a slip of the tongue…."

  Shaking his head sadly, Yasin said, "I'm the one most distressed by my departure. But I'll leave sooner or later, for it's impossible to move Maryam in here. Don't think of my departure in any light but this. I'll move to my house in Palace of Desire Alley. Fortunately, my mother's apartment is still vacant. I'll stop by to see Father at the store and explain my reasons for leaving, omitting anything that might upset him. I'm not angry. I'm leaving the house most regretfully. I'll miss everyone here, starting with Mother. Don't be sad. The stream will return to its banks shortly. No one: n this family has a vengeful heart, and your mother's is the purest of all."

  He went to the wardrobe, opened it, and began looking at his clothes and belongings. He hesitated a little before executing his decision, Turning toward Kamal, he said, "I'm going to marry this girl. The fates have decreed that for me. God knows, I'm convinced that I'm not betraying Fahmy's memory. You recall, Kamal, how much I loved him. Why shouldn't I? If anyone gets hurt by this marriage, it will be me."

  82

  A servant girl led Yasin into the parlor and then disappeared. He was visiting the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan for the first time ever. Spacious and with a high ceiling, the room was like those in his father's house. Its latticed balcony overlooked Palace Walk, and its two windows opened on the side alley where the door of the house was located. There was a small carpet on the floor. Couches and armchairs were lined up along the walls. The door and windows were hung with gray velvet curtains, which had grown pale with age. In a large black frame on the wall facing the door there was an inscription reading: "In the name of God". At the center of the wall to the right, above the main sofa, was a portrait of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, showing him in the prime of life. Yasin picked the first couch on his right and sat down. He carefully examined the place until his eyes came to rest on the face of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, who appeared to be looking at him with Maryam's eyes. Yasin smiled contentedly and started to flick his ivory fly whisk at nothing in particular.

  A problem confronting him since he had first thought of coming to ask for Maryam's hand was the absence of any men in her house and his failure to obtain a female representative from his family. He had come alone, like "a branch cut from the family tree," as he put it. This embarrassed him a little, since he was a man who had absorbed from his milieu a pride in family and kin. All the same, he was confident that Maryam had prepared the way for him with her mother. The mere announcement of his visit would suffice to reveal the reason for it and to create a fine atmosphere for the performance of his mission.

  The maid put in another appearance, carrying a coffee tray, which she placed on the table in front of him. As she retreated, she informed him that the senior mistress was on her way. He wondered if the junior mistress knew of his visit. What impact would it have on her delicate soul? He was going to carry her and her beauty off to Palace of Desire Alley, no matter what. Who would have thought that Amina could get so angry? She used to be as meek as an angel. "May God destroy grief!" he thought.

  His father had grown angry too when Yasin had confessed at the store that he had left home. But it had been a compassionate anger, revealing how upset and sad he was.

  "I wonder if Amina will tell him about Maryam's past. The anger of a bereaved mothe
r is a frightening thing, but Kamal promised to persuade her to keep quiet about it. Back at Palace of Desire Alley you encountered the first happy surprise of this stormy affair… the death of your late mother's former lover, the fruit seller. His place has been taken by a watchmaker. To the grave!

  He heard someone at the door clear her throat. As He rose he turned his eyes in that direction. In no time at all he saw Mrs. Bahija. She was making her entrance sideways, since only one panel of the door was open and the space would not have been wide enough for her had she come in straight. Without meaning to, he observed the lines demarcating the divisions of her voluminous body. He could not help but marvel when her hips came into view, for their crest almost reached the middle of her back, while their bottom flowed down over her thighs. They were like inflated balloons.

  She advanced toward him with steps slowed by the extraordinary weight of her flesh and flab. Then she extended a soft white hand, which emerged from the sleeve of her loose white dress. She was saying, "Welcome! Welcome! You honor and illumine us."

  Yasin shook her hand politely and remained standing until she had seated herself on the nearest sofa. Then he sat down. He was seeing her up close for the first time. Her long-standing ties to his family and the status of matriarch she had acquired over the years because of her age and prestige had kept him, when he saw her at a distance in the street, from scrutinizing her the way he did other women. Thus, it seemed he was making a new discovery. The dress she was wearing covered her body from her neck down to her feet, which she had concealed in white socks despite the warm weather The sleeves of her dress reached to her wrists, and her head and neck were enveloped in a white scarf, the ends of which spread over her breast and back. She presented a modest appearance suiting the occasion and fitting her age, which was close to fifty, so far as Yasin knew. Yet she also appeared to be in splendid health, suggesting a mind at rest and a youthful heart. One thing he noticed was that her face was free of makeup, although he knew her reputation for loving to show herself off to advantage. For that reason she had long been the established authority in the whole quarter for everything relating to feminine taste in clothes and cosmetics. He remembered how Amina had once defended this woman whenever anyone criticized her excesses of self-adornment but over the past few years had attacked Bahija for the most trifling reasons, accusing her of immodesty and of disregard for the decorum appropriate to her age.

  "A noble step, Yasin Effendi."

  "May God be generous to you". He almost ended his words with "Auntie," but at the last minute an instinctive fear prevented him, especially since he had noticed that she had not called him "my son," as he would have expected.

  "How are all of you?" she asked. "Your father, Fahmy's mother, Khadija, Aisha, and Kamal?"

  Feeling embarrassed because she had inquired about people who were hostile to her for no clear reason, he answered, "They're all fine. It's hoped you're in good health."

  No doubt she was thinking of the cold reception she had received in his father's home after Fahmy's death. After a lifelong friendship she had been forced to stop visiting his family. What rude treatment! No, it had been the beginning of a cold war. His stepmother had soon announced her "feeling" that Maryam and her mother had not grieved sincerely for Fahmy. May God not bring any more evil, why? She had said it was inconceivable that they would not have heard back then in one way or another about al-Sayyid Ahmad's refusal to allow Fahmy to ask for Maryam's hand. If they had not heard, they could have deduced it. And if they knew about it, they would inevitably hold a grudge against Fahmy's family. She frequently repeated that she had heard Maryam at the funeral lament Fahmy's passing by saying, "I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy your youth". Amina interpreted this to mean: "I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy your youth, because your family stood in your way," adding to that interpretation whatever else her sorrow and grief dictated. No stratagem had succeeded in weaning her from her "feeling". Her behavior toward Maryam and Umm Maryam had quickly been transformed, and relations had been severed.

  Still under the influence of his embarrassment and uneasiness, he said, "God curse the devil!"

  Endorsing his sentiments, Bahija said, "A thousand curses! I've frequently asked myself what I did to be treated the way I have been by Mrs. Umm Fahmy, but I keep on praying that she may lind some consolation, the poor lady…."

  "May God reward you magnificently for your noble manners and good heart. She's truly in a pitiful state and in need of consolation."

  "But how am I at fault?"

  "You re not. It's the devil, God's curses on him."

  The woman shook her head as though she were an innocent victim and was silent for a time until she happened to turn to the cup of coffee, which seemed to be sitting forgotten on the tray. Gesturing toward it, she asked, "Haven't you drunk your coffee yet?"

  Yasin raised the cup to his mouth and drained it. Putting it back on the tray, he cleared his throat a little and then began his spiel: "I've been distressed by the events ending the friendship between our two families, but there has been nothing I could do. We need to set that aside and let time take care of it. The fact is I didn't mean to arouse sad memories. That's not why I came. My visit has another purpose, one as far removed as possible from sad memories."

  Bahija tossed her head as though to drive away sad thoughts. Then she smiled to show she was ready to hear something new. Her toss of the head and smile resembled a musician's change of key to introduce the vocalist and a new section of the song.

  Put at ease by her smile, Yasin said, "My own life is not lacking in sad memories from my past. I refer to my first attempt at marriage. God did not grant me success in finding a proper wife. But I don't want to dwell on that. The fact is that I've come as a result of my decision putting my trust in God to turn over a new page in my life, anticipating nothing but good from my resolve"

  Their eyes met, and he found a gratifying reception for his words. Had he been well advised to mention his first marriage? Would not news of the real reasons for the failure of that marriage have reached this woman?

  "Don't worry," he told himself. "Her beautiful face gives every indication of unlimited tolerance. Her beautiful face! Aren't her features pretty? They certainly are. If it were not for the difference in age, she would be more beautiful than Maryam. Without any doubt she was more beautiful when she was young. No! She's more beautiful than Maryam, despite the difference in age. She really is!"

  "I suspect you've guessed what I have in mind. I've come to ask for the hand of your daughter, Miss Maryam."

  Her radiant face was illuminated by a smile in which pulsed a new vitality. She answered, "All I can say is: Welcome and welcome again. An excellent family and an excellent man. Last time we were unlucky and fell victim to a person of no character. This time a man seeks Maryam who can truly make her happy. By the grace of God she will be able to make him happy. Regardless of the separation occasioned by that misunderstanding we've been a single family for a long time."

  Yasin was so delighted that his fingers began adjusting his bow tie with quick, unconscious strokes. With a blush on his handsome bronze face he said, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart. May God reward the sweetness of your words. As you observed, we are one family in spite of everything, and Miss Maryam is a girl who adorns our whole district with her lineage and character. May God grant each of us consolation with the other for our past misfortunes."

  She murmured, "Amen," and sighed. Then she approached the table with her glorious body. She took the coffee tray and called Yasmina. Holding the tray, she turned around to give it to the maid, who was hurrying in. Suddenly Maryam's mother looked back to tell him, "We've enjoyed your visit," and surprised him staring at her massive hips. He was at once aware that he had been caught in a compromising position. He quickly lowered his eyes so that she would assume he had been looking at the floor, but it was too late…. He was rattled and began to ask himself what she would think of him.

  After she s
at down again he peeked at her stealthily and glimpsed her delicate smile, which seemed to say, "I saw you!" To hell with his eyes that did not know how to be modest…. He wondered what was going through her head. Yes, she was trying to pretend that she had not seen anything, but her attitude subsequent to her smile also implied: "I saw you!" The best solution would be for him to forget this blunder. But would Maryam become like her mother one day? When would that day come? The mother had qualities fate rarely handed out. What a woman she was! The best way to rid himself of these thoughts and disperse the cloud of suspicion would be to break the silence.

  He said, "If my request meets with your approval, you will find me ready to discuss the important details at your convenience."

  She laughed briefly but with an incandescence that made her face seem gentle and youthful. She said, "Why wouldn't we accept, Yasin Effendi? As the saying goes: Seek a neighbor with good lineage…."

  Blushing, he replied, "You enslave me with your graciousness."

  "All I've said is the truth, with God as my witness."

  After a brief silence, she asked, "Is your household in agreement?"

  A serious look came into his eyes for a moment. Then he laughed listlessly through his nostrils. He said, "Let's not talk about my household and its affairs."

  "May God shelter us from evil, why?"

  "Not everything at home is as I would like."

  "Haven't you consulted al-Sayyid Ahmad?"

  "My father has given his consent."

  She clapped her hands together and said, "Now I understand. Fahmy's mother? Isn't that so? She was the first to come to mind when you brought up the topic. Naturally, she hasn't agreed. So? Glory to the One who never changes. Your father's wife is a strange woman."

  Shrugging his shoulders dismissively, he said, "That's neither here nor there."

  She complained, "How often I've asked myself what I did wrong. How have I harmed her?"