Late afternoon came and she wrapped herself in her cloak and put on her slippers, her hands trembling with emotion, her heart thumping violently. There was nothing to do but leave her mother without saying a proper goodbye. She was unhappy at the thought as she looked at the woman lying blissfully unaware of what the next day would bring. It was time to leave and Hamida gazed at her mother and spoke: "Goodbye, then…"
"Goodbye," Umm Hamida replied, "don't be late."
As she left that flat, her face showed strain and, disregarding all, she moved through the alley for the last time. From Sanadiqiya, she walked into Ghouriya and then turned off toward New Street. She walked at a measured pace. Eventually after some hesitation and apprehension she looked up and saw him waiting exactly where he had been the day before. Her cheeks burned as a strong wave of rebellion and anger swept through her. She longed to have her revenge on him and thus regain her peace of mind. She lowered her gaze but then wondered if he was now smiling in that insolent way of his. Nervously she lifted her eyes and found him quiet and serious, his almond-shaped eyes merely expressing hope and concern. Her anger subsided and she walked past him, expecting that he would speak or take her hand as he had done the previous day. Instead, he pretended to ignore her and she hurried on until a bend in the street hid her from sight. Then he slowly set out after her. Now she realized that he was being more cautious and treating the whole affair in a more serious manner. She walked on until she almost reached the end of New Street. Suddenly she stopped, as if she had just remembered something. She turned on her heels and started walking back and he followed her anxiously. He whispered, "Why have you turned back?"
She hesitated, then said uneasily, "The factory girls…"
Relieved at this reply, he suggested, "Let's go into Azhar Street, no one will see us."
Still keeping their distance, they made their way in complete silence down Azhar Street. Hamida realized that, by saying what she did, she had announced her final surrender. They arrived at Queen Farida Square without saying a word. Because she did not know where to go now, she stopped. She heard him call a taxi and suddenly he opened the door for her to enter. She raised a foot to step in and that one movement marked the dividing point between her two lives.
The car had scarcely begun to move when in a trembling voice he said with consummate skill, "God only knows how much I have suffered, Hamida… I didn't sleep a single hour all last night. You, my darling, don't know what love is. Anyway, today I feel happy. No, I am almost mad with joy. How can I believe my eyes? Thank you, my love, thank you. I will make rivers of happiness flow beneath your feet. How magnificent diamonds will look around your neck!" (He stroked it gently.) "How beautiful gold will look on your arm!" (He kissed it.) "How marvelous lipstick will look on your lips!" (He moved his head toward her trying to kiss her, but she prevented him and he kissed her cheek instead.) "Oh, what a shy temptress you are!"
After a moment he got his breath back and went on, a smile on his lips: "Say farewell now to your days of hardship! From now on nothing will cause you discomfort… Why, even your breasts will be held away from you by supports of silk!"
She was delighted to hear all this and felt not a trace of anger, even though she did blush. She yielded her body submissively to the movement of the taxi, carrying her away from her past life. The car stopped before the building that was to be her home. She stepped out and they walked quickly up to the apartment. It was just as it had been the day before, filled with voices coming from behind the closed doors. They went into the luxurious room and he said, laughing, "Take off your cloak and we will both burn it."
Her face red, Hamida mumbled, "I didn't bring my clothes with me."
"Well done," he shouted happily. "You'll need nothing from the past."
He sat her down in an armchair and walked to and fro across the room. Then he turned toward an elegant door beside a tall mirror and pushed it open, revealing a most attractive bedroom.
"Our room," he said.
Hamida at once replied resolutely, "Oh no… oh no… I am going to sleep here."
He looked at her piercingly and then replied resignedly, "No, you will sleep inside and I will sleep here."
She made up her mind that she was not going to be taken like a sheep. She had no intention of submitting until she had satisfied her desire to be stubborn and difficult.
It was obvious he sensed this, for he smiled ironically to express his resigned submission. Then he spoke with pride and delight: "Yesterday, my darling, you called me a pimp. Now allow me to present my true self to you. Your lover is the headmaster of a school, and you will learn everything when the time comes."
25
Talking to himself as he approached Midaq Alley, Hussain Kirsha muttered, "This is the time when everyone meets in the cafe and they are all bound to see me. Even if my father is too blind to notice me, they will soon tell him I'm back." Night was drawing in now and the alley shops were all locked and silent, the only noise coming from the men chatting in Kirsha's cafe. The young man walked slowly and heavily, his face scowling and his spirits low. Close behind him followed a young woman, about his own age. Hussain wore a shirt and trousers and carried a large suitcase just like the young man who followed him. The girl walked along daintily in a pretty dress, wearing neither coat nor cloak. She had an appealing air as she minced along, although something about her revealed her low class.
Hussain made his way straight toward the house owned by Radwan Hussainy and went in, followed by his two companions, without glancing at the cafe. They climbed the stairs to the third floor, and Hussain, now frowning intensely, knocked on the door of his parents' home. He heard footsteps and then the door opened and his mother appeared. "Who is it?" she asked in her coarse voice, the darkness obscuring the figure before her.
Her son answered quietly, "It's me, Hussain."
"Hussain! My son!" shouted Mrs. Kirsha, unable to believe her ears. She rushed toward him, took him by the arms, and kissed him, saying fervently, "You have come back, my son! Praise be to God… praise be to God, who has brought you back to your senses and protected you from the devil's temptations. Come in, this is your home." She laughed hysterically. "Do come in, you truant… What a lot of sleepless nights and worry you have given me."
Hussain came in submissively, still scowling. Her enthusiastic welcome had done nothing to cheer him. As she moved to close the door behind him, Hussain stopped her, making way for the couple who had been following him. "I have some people with me. Come in, Sayyida. You too, Abdu. This is my wife, Mother, and this is her brother."
His mother was stunned, and her eyes showed that she was more than a little annoyed. She stood gazing in astonishment at the newcomers and then overcame her feelings long enough to shake the hand extended to her. Unaware of what she was saying, she spoke to her son: "So you got married, Hussain! Welcome to the bride. But you married without letting us know! How could you have taken a bride without your parents being there, especially since they are still alive?"
Hussain burst out, "Satan is so clever! I was angry, rebellious, and full of scorn… Everything is fate and chance!"
His mother took a lamp from the wall and led them into the reception room. She put the lamp on the sill of the closed window and stood gazing into the face of her son's wife.