I nodded that I did. How could I possibly not like such melodies and birdsongs? Not to mention the intoxicating delights of other things as well, and they were legitimate at that! The whole thing was a boon from God on high, a timehonored spiritual treasure.
And here was I, member of a religious community with no monastic traditions! I was indulging in my own share of the world and giving whatever talents I have in return.
In the midst of such delights any kind of reserve is pointless. It is, in fact, inappropriate to keep one's instincts on a leash; it is far more suitable to unleash pent-up emotions and give them a golden opportunity to take the initiative. In that way I could return to my beloved's tongue its normal eloquence. Trusting in the One to whom one can consign such faith, I drew her toward me and embraced her; so close was she that I felt the irresistible urge to kiss her gently on both cheeks. When I felt her relax and ask for more, I turned to her lovely mouth, tasted its sweet nectar, and massaged her tongue for as long as passion and longing allowed me. All of a sudden, the birdsong and lute-playing came to a stop, and silence fell, only interrupted by the pounding of our heartbeats. If I had not been scared of possible evil consequences and transcending the bounds of appropriate behavior, I would almost certainly have plunged ahead and indulged myself in the sweetest pleasure of them all. Instead I decided to see what effect my behavior thus far had had on the lady in question.
"Tell me, my beloved," I said. "In your letter you mentioned something you wanted me to do? Tell me what it is, and I'll do it for you."
"The way I'm feeling now," she replied somewhat less diffidently than before, "I certainly can't put it into words."
"Well then, tell me with signs and gestures."
My companion now used her thumb to point to her bosom and then to me. She then used her middle finger to expose both her breasts before my very eyes. When she saw that I was flummoxed (actually "dumbfounded" would be more appropriate), she took hold of my right hand and intertwined her fingers in mine. At this point my only course was to ask her point-blank if she wanted to be married to me, and, without further ado, she responded that she did.
"Our hearts have a language of their own," I went on. "The mind has no control over it. What I said has come straight from my very soul, so I am innocent of any charge against me. In my particular form of language my love for you stems from complete free will."
It was amazing to see how her own language now proceeded to flow in joyous, sweet sequence. Either my cure had worked, or else her previous stammerings had been a facade. Whatever the case, the suggestion she had made lifted me up to yet higher planes of delight, and I was certainly going to accept it with the very greatest of pleasure and joy. Even though she had not been the one to take the initiative by talking about it, she had certainly now made her intentions very plain.
"My dear lady," I told her, "I'm honored by your suggestion." But then, by way of clarification, I went on, "I feel exalted, but…"
"But what, my dear Abduh?"
I had never been called by that abbreviation before. From now on, it would certainly be appended to my other names; in fact, because it came from the mouth of the one who had managed to capture my heart and love, it would now occupy primary position.
"My beloved," I replied, "I am a man for whom knowledge and learning are cherished entities. My life has been fated to be one of seclusion and devotion to scholarship."
Biting her fingertips in sheer bashfulness and longing, she blushed becomingly. "For you, my dear," she said, "I will be able to provide what is far more restful and sweet than mere seclusion. If you wish, I will have a special cloister built for you inside my house where no one will bother you and I will never venture. What I desire with all my heart is simply to be close to you."
Oh my, what wonderful, sweet, and unforgettable words those were! Oh my, how they penetrated my inner being and lodged happily inside my soul! I decided to check just one thing before finally acceding to her wishes:
"Did you say, my lady, that you would build me a cloister?"
"If you wish, I'll even build a tower where you can seclude yourself."
"But, my sweet lady, Sabta will not be my final resort. I may well be forced to leave here, just as I did my hometown of Murcia."
"Dear 'Abduh, devout shaykh who loves all pious folk, no harm can come to you here. My late father was a much respected man whose deeds will never be forgotten, and my late husband was director and supervisor of his council."
I accepted this response of hers with a smile and asked for no further details regarding the specific aspects of the marriage contract. I did not wish to reconsider my feelings and complicate matters, nor did I wish to look as though I were haggling over things. I decided to exploit the joy of the moment and savor its exalted purpose. Even so, the highly astute lady in question seemed to anticipate some of my concerns.
"My dear `Abduh," she went on, "if you wished to make the acquaintance of the governor of Sabta at your convenience, it can certainly be arranged. As far as our own union is concerned, that can be arranged in short order if you so desire. No relatives on my side are going to make any fuss about things, since there's nothing standing in the way of either yourself or a widow like me."
All of a sudden the sounds of the lute once again wafted into our little hideaway, almost inevitably rekindling the passions I felt for the lovely woman who had put her head with its silky hair on my chest. Without looking up, she started to say something softly, but it only came out as a stammer: "Dear `Abduh, would youk… k… k…"
I took this as an indication that she wanted more of my cure-method, so I turned her face toward me and started covering her with kisses even more passionate than the first time. I took the advantage in all it offered, but she responded in kind, albeit with a bit more modesty. Once again it managed to loose her tongue from its chains.
"Do you love me, `Abduh?" she asked.
My response came not with words, but in very explicit actions that found their inspiration in my very soul and body. I hugged and kissed her over and over again. Once more I was afraid that our mutual passion would lead us down a slippery slope into illicit territory. She may have detected my malaise, because at this point she slipped gently out of my arms. No sooner did the lute-playing stop than we heard the muted sound of gazelles heralding the arrival of Umm Haniyya, who was waiting in the reception hall.
I leapt up. "Make the necessary arrangements for our wedding," I whispered in my beloved's ear. "Choose whomever you like to help you and also the messenger who will ply between us. God alone will bring success, and in Him do we put our trust."
She signaled her agreement by kissing me softly. As she withdrew happily, the lute player, who now appeared from nowhere, accompanied me via a back door to a corridor that led to a capacious stable.
"My mistress gives you this fine horse," he said, the expression in his eyes conveying a host of meanings, "with her very best wishes and fond farewells. You luckiest of men, please be so good as to mount the horse that you have blessed by allowing it to bring you here."
I asked the boy to convey my deepest thanks and appreciation to his mistress, mounted the horse, and rode away.
This blessed horse made no attempt to hide how happy it was to have me as its rider; it was neighing and snorting with pleasure, almost as though his owner had instructed it to treat me well. It conveyed me across the city of its own accord and at a modest pace, but, once we reached the part of the city by the mountain, it started cantering in order to show me how powerful and well endowed it really was. As I turned my face toward the gentle breezes, how often did I embellish the space with luscious kisses and affection! I felt as if my mount were transporting me on wings, as though I myself were flying as I recalled the passionate moments I had spent with my beloved. No words had ever tried to describe the feeling before, and indeed none of the famous love-poets of the Arabic tradition would be able to do so even if they were to combine their efforts. The elemental footfalls and profound spiritual heartbeats that accompanied such joyous emotions of love were beyond the scope of mere words. Muhammad al-Niffari,* Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi, and other major intellectual figures had all spoken about the impossibility of using words to encompass larger concepts. Were my friend the Meknesi shaykh to have experienced moments such as these, he would willingly have surrendered his soul out of sheer emotion…