The Cairo Trilogy

by Naguib Mahfouz

  “What did she say?”

  “She didn't say anything.”

  “Praise God.”

  “The catastrophe was a result of her silence.”

  Smiling fondly, Amina asked, “What could she have said?”

  As though her mother's question was more than she could stomach, Khadija frowned and replied bitterly, “She could have sworn I never attacked the woman. Why not? If she had done that, it wouldn't have been more than a sister's duty. She could at least have said she didn't hear anything. The truth is, she favored that woman over me. She deserted me and let me fall prey to a malicious schemer. I'll never forget this about Aisha so long as I live.”

  Feeling hurt and apprehensive, her mother said, “Khadija, don't frighten me. Everything should have been forgotten by morning.”

  “Forgotten? I didn't sleep at all last night. I tossed and turned, and my head seemed to be on fire. Any disaster would have seemed insignificant, had it not come from Aisha. From my sister? She agreed to team up with Satan. Fine! Let her have what she wants. I used to have one mother-in-law. Now I have two. Aisha! Lord, how many times have I shielded her! If 1 were a traitor like her, I would have told my father about the streak of improper conduct running through her life. She wants to be thought of as a noble angel while I'm cast as a devil deserving to be pelted with stones. Certainly not! I'm a thousand times better than she is. My reputation is spotless”. Her tone became increasingly strident as she added, “If it weren't for my father, no power on earth could have brought me to kiss my enemy's hand or to call her Mother.”

  Amina patted her daughter's shoulder gently as she said, “You're angry, always angry. Calm down. You'll stay here with rne and we'll have lunch together. Then we can have a quiet chat.”

  “I'm in full control of my intellect. I know what I'm saying. I want to ask my father which is better: the wife who stays at home or the one who visits all the neighbors and sings to them while her daughter dances?”

  Amina sighed and said mournfully, “There's no need to ask what your father thinks of this. But Aisha's a married woman, and the final word on her conduct is her husband's. If he allows her to visit the neighbors and knows that she sings when she's with her friends who love her and her voice, then what concern of ours is it? God takes care of everything, Khadija. Is this what you term 'improper conduct'? Does it really infuriate you that Na'ima dances? She's going on six, and dancing is a game for her. You're just angry, Khadija; may God forgive you.”

  Khadija said determinedly, “I mean every word I've said. If you approve of your daughter singing when she visits the neighbors and letting her daughter dance, do you also approve of her smoking like men? Yes, you're astonished. I repeat in your hearing that Aisha smokes. She's become addicted and can't do without it. Her husband gives her a pack, telling her quite plainly, ‘This is your pack, darling Shushu.’ I've seen her, myself, take a puff on one and exhale the smoke through her mouth and nostrils. Her nose! Do you hear? She no longer attempts to hide it from me as she did at first. In fact, she suggested I try smoking, on the grounds that it helps calm agitated nerves. This is Aisha. What do you have to say about that? What would my father say? I wonder.”

  There was total silence. Amina appeared to be perplexed and at a loss. All the same, she decided to continue trying to calm her daughter. She said, “Smoking's a nasty habit even for men. Your father has never smoked. What can I say then about women smoking? But if it's her husband who tempted her and taught her how, what room is there for comment? What can be done about it, Khadija? She belongs to her husband, not to us. All we can do is give her some advice, whether or not it does any good.”

  Khadija began to gaze at her mother with a silence that betrayed hesitation. Finally she said, “Her husband pampers her so dreadfully he spoilsher. He's made her his partner in all his depraved acts. Smoking isn't his only bad habit. He drinks liquor at home without any embarrassment. There's always a bottle in his house, as though it were one of the necessities of life. He'll get her hooked on drink just as he did with tobacco. Why not? The old lady knows her son's apartment's a tavern, but she doesn't care. He'll serve Aisha liquor. Indeed, I can state categorically that he has,for I smelled a strange fragrance on her breath once. When] questioned her, although she denied everything, she was nervous. I tell you, she surely has drunk alcohol and will become as addicted to it as she is to smoking.”

  The mother exclaimed gloomily, “Anything but this, O Lord! Have pity on yourself and on me: Fear God, Khadija.”

  “I am a devout person, God knows. I don't smoke and my mouth does not reek with suspicious odors. I don't allow liquor to come into my home. Don't you know that the other mule attempted to stock this sinful bottle? But I waylaid him and told him with the utmost candor, won't remain in this apartment if there's a liquor bottle in it.' Faced by my resolve, he backed down. Now he leaves his bottle with his brother… in the apartment of the lady who betrayed me yesterday. Whenever I shout insults at alcohol and those who drink it, he asks - may God slice out his tongue ‘Where did you come by such fundamentalist Hanbal-ism? Your father's a wellspring of conviviality. His parties almost never lack a drink and a lute.’ So you hear what they say about my father in the Shawkat household.”

  A look of sorrow and anguish was visible in Amina's eyes. She began to clench and release her fist with anxious agitation. Then she said in a plaintive, hurt tone, “Have mercy on us, Lord! We weren't meant for this. God, you're forgiving and compassionate. How men make women suffer! I won't keep still about it that wouldn't be right. I'll take Aisha to task in no uncertain terms. But I can't believe what you've said of her. Your suspicions have tempted you to imagine groundless things about her. My daughter's pure and will remain pure, even if her husband turns into a demon.] '11 speak to her quite bluntly. I'll even discuss it with Mr. Khalil himself, if that's necessary. He can drink as much as he wants until God grants him repentance, but I ask God to draw an invisible line between my daughter and Satan.”

  For the first time Khadija's soul felt a refreshing breeze. She observed her mother's concern with a satisfied eye, reassured that Aisha would soon experience the full impact of the loss her betrayal was destined to bring her. Khadija felt little remorse for having embellished the facts in her exaggerated portrayal of the situation or in its bitter characterization, which had led her to refer to her sister's apartment as a tavern. She knew that Ibrahim and Khalil rarely touched liquor and then only in moderation and that neither had ever been intoxicated, but she was upset and resentful. She repeated the remarks about her father being “a wellspring of conviviality” to her mother with an incredulous tone to make it clear that she rejected them, although long ago she had been forced to accept their accuracy. She had yielded to the testimony of Ibrahim, Khalil, and their aged mother, especially since they had made their comments not in a prejudiced or critical manner but when praising her father's generosity and according him a leading role among the witty people of his era. In the beginning, she had rejected that consensus with a fierce obstinacy. Then slowly, even if she did not admit it openly, doubt crept in. She found it extremely difficult to reconcile these new attributes with the somber and tyrannical person in whom she had believed all her life. All the same, this doubt did not in any respect lessen her regard and veneration, which may have increased, through the addition of wit and liberality to his qualities.

  Khadija was not content with the victory she had won. Trying to goad her mother on, she said, “Aisha didn't just betray me. She's betrayed you too”. She fell silent to let her words penetrate deep into her mother. Then she went on: “She visits Yasin and Mary am in Palace of Desire Alley.”

  Staring at her daughter in alarm, Amina cried out, “What did you say?”

  Feeling that she had scaled the peaks of victory, Khadija answered, “This is the sad truth. Yasin and Maryam have visited us more than once. They visited Aisha, and they visited me. I'll admit I was forced to receive them. Had it not been for my respect
for Yasin, I wouldn't have been able to. But I did it guardedly. Yasin invited me to visit them at Palace of Desire. I don't need to say that I didn't go. They visited again, but that still did not shake my resolve. Finally Maryam asked, ‘Why don't you visit us? We've been like sisters since childhood.’ I offered various excuses, and she did her best to tempt me. She started to complain about Yasin's treatment, his sneaky behavior, and his neglect. Perhaps she hoped to arouse my sympathy, but I didn't open my heart to her - unlike Aisha, who receives her warmly, kissing her. Even worse, she exchanges visits with Maryam. She took Mr. Khalil with her once and another time Na'ima, Uthman, and Muhammad. She certainly seems happy to renew her friendship with Maryam. When I cautioned her about carrying it too far, she replied, ‘Maryam's only sin was that we refused one day to make her the fiancee of our lamented brother. Is that fair?’ I asked her, ‘Have you forgotten the English soldier?’ She replied, ‘The only thing we should remember is that she's the wife of our oldest brother.’ Have you ever heard anything like this, Mother?”

  Amina yielded to her sorrow. She bowed her head and took refuge in silence. Khadija looked at her for a time. Then she resumed her denunciation: “That's Aisha, nothing added, nothing subtracted… Aisha who testified against me yesterday, humiliating me in front ofthat prattling old woman.”

  Amina sighed deeply. She gazed at Khadija with tired eyes. Then she said in a faint voice, “Aisha's a child without any mind or substance. She'll always be like that, no matter how long she lives. What else can I say? I don't want to say more and I can't. Does the memory of Fahmy mean so little to her? I can't believe that. Why can't she be stingier with her affections when it comes to that woman, if only for my sake? But I won't let this pass. I'll tell her she's wronged me, that I'm angry and saddened, and then we'll see how see reacts.”

  Grasping a lock of her hair, Khadija said, “I'll chop this off if she reforms. She lives in a dream world all her own. God knows I'm not prejudiced against her. I've never had a fight with her since I got mamed, not a single one. It's true I've often inveighed against her neglect of the children, her humiliating flattery of her mother-in-law, and other similar things I've related to you over the years. But my attacks have never gone beyond the limits of resolute advice and frank criticism. This is the first time she's upset me so badly that I'm publicly quarreling with her.”

  Although still looking vexed, her mother entreated her, “Let me handle this, Khadija. I don't want you ever to be estranged from her by a dispute. It's not right for your hearts to be alienated from each other when you live together in the same home. Don't forget that you're sisters… and that you're her big sister. Your heart is not mean, praise God. It's filled with love for all your family. Whenever I have a problem, my one consolation is your affection. Despite her failings, Aisha is still your sister. Don't forget that.”

  Stung, Khadija cried out, “I'll forgive her everything except her testimony against me.”

  “She «didn't testify against you. She was afraid of making you angry and afraid of angering her mother-in-law. So she kept silent.

  She hates to upset anyone, as you well know, even if her heed-lessness frequently annoys people. She never meant to harm you. Don't expect too much from her. I'll come see you tomorrow and settle accounts with her. But I'll make peace between the two of you, and you'd better not object.”

  For the first time Khadija's eyes had an anxious, apprehensive look. She lowered them to keep her mother from noticing. She did not say anything for a moment. Then in a weak voice she asked, “You'll come tomorrow?”

  “Yes, the situation requires my immediate attention.”

  As though to herself, Khadija remarked, “She'll accuse me of divulging her secrets.”

  “So!” Then, sensing her daughter's increasing anxiety and apprehension, Amina added, “In any case, I know what to say and what not to.”

  With relief Khadija concluded, “That's best, for it's unlikely she'll acknowledge that my intentions are good or that all I want is to help her improve.”

  94

  “OH!”HE SUDDENLY exclaimed with warmth and passion on seeing A'ida emerge from the gate of her mansion. As usual late each afternoon, he was standing on the sidewalk of al-Abbasiya Street v/atching her house from a distance. The most he had been hoping for was a glimpse of her on a balcony or at a window. He wore an elegant gray suit, as though wishing to keep pace with the good weather, which the last days of March had graciously and cheerfully provided. The more hurt and despondent he felt, the more dapper his attire became. He had not set eyes on A'ida since she had quarreled with him in the gazebo. But life would not have been possible without this afternoon pilgrimage to al-Abbasiya, where he circled the mansion from afar with unflagging zeal. He would give free rein to his dreams and satisfy himself temporarily with contemplation of the shrine and a review of his memories.

  In the first days of their separation the pain had almost driven him crazy, leaving him prey to delirious paranoia. Had it lasted any longer, it would have done him in. He had escaped from that dangerous initial stage by virtue of the despair long embedded in his soul. Pain had crept back into its residence deep inside him, where it carried on its traffic without disturbing his other vital functions, as though it were an organic part of his body or an essential faculty of his spirit. His agony was like a severe illness that lingers on as a chronic malady after its worst symptoms subside. He was not consoled. How could he find any consolation for love? It was the most exalted thing life had ever revealed to him. Since he believed deeply in love's immortality, he realized he would have to bear it patiently, as if destined to live out the rest of his days with an incurable illness.

  When he suddenly saw her leave the mansion, this moan escaped him. His eyes watched her graceful gait, which he had wanted to see for such a long time, and his spirit danced with a rapture of affectionate excitement. The beloved turned right and proceeded along Palaces Street. Revolt flared up in his spirit,sweeping away the sense of defeat his soul had nourished for nearly three months. Hisheart shocked him into a decision to cast his complaints at her feet regardless of the consequences. Without any hesitation he walked to Palaces Street. In the past he had spoken cautiously from fear of losing her. Now there was no further loss to fear. Moreover, the torment he had suffered during the last three months would hardly allow him to hesitate or retreat. A'fda soon noticed the approaching footsteps and turned to glance back when he was only a few steps behind her. But then she looked ahead again indifferently. He had not expected a gracious reception, but he reproached her, “Is this the way old friends greet each other?”

  She responded by quickening her pace without even glancing at him. He lengthened his steps, deriving stubborn resolve from his pain. When he was almost beside her, he said, “Don't pretend you don't know me. That's unbearable. If you had any regard for fairness, there would be no need for this.”

  What he feared most was that she would ignore him until she reached her destination. But the melodious voice answered, “Please get away from me. Let me go in peace.”

  With humble determination he told her, “You will go on your way peacefully, but after we settle accounts.”

  In a voice that resounded clearly in the silence of the aristocratic street, which seemed almost deserted, she replied, “I don't know what accounts you're talking about and don't want to know. I wish you'd act like a gentleman.”

  With fervent passion he said, “I promise to conduct myself in a fashion exemplary even for a gentleman. I couldn't act otherwise, since you inspire me in everything I do.”

  Without ever looking his way she retorted, “I mean you should leave me in peace. That's what I want.”

  “I can't. I can't until you pronounce me innocent of the false charges for which you've punished me without listening to my defense.”

  “I'm punishing you?”

  He paused for a fleeting instant to enjoy the magic of that moment, for she had agreed to debate with him and to slow he
r happy stride. Did she want to listen to him or was she deliberately giving herself more time to get rid of him before she reached her destination? In either case it was a dazzling fact that they were walking side by side along Palaces Street. The lofty trees there sheltered them and, from beyond the walls of the mansions, calm narcissus eyes and smiling jasmine mouths followed the couple's progress in a stillness profound enough to soothe his burning heart, if he could only have absorbed it.

  He said, “You have punished me cruelly by disappearing for three whole months while I, although innocent, have suffered countless torments.”

  “Let's not rehash that.”

  Passionately and humbly he replied, “But we must. I'm determined to. I beg you in the name of the agony I've endured for so long that I lack the strength to suffer anymore.”

  She asked quietly, “How is that my fault?”

  “I want to know whether you still consider me an adversary. One thing that's certain is that I could never harm you under any circumstances. If you would just consider my affection for you over the past years you would embrace my viewpoint without any hesitation. Let me tell you the whole story with total candor. After our conversation in the gazebo, Hasan Salim asked me to have a talk with him.”

  She interrupted him almost imploringly: “Let's drop this. It's over, finished.”

  This last sentence had the impact on him that laments at a funeral would make on a dead man if he could hear. Then, touched in a way that showed itself in his voice, where it was like a song dropping down an octave to an answering voice, he said, “Finished… I know it's finished, but I would like it to have a positive ending. I don't want you to leave thinking me a traitor or a slanderer. I'm innocent, and it's awful when you think ill of a person who harbors for you… harbors for you nothing but veneration and respect and whose every reference to you is coated with praise.”