Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley (Chapter 23) lyrics

Chapter 23 I won't go back to the cafe soI don't raise suspicions in the alley," he'd said to her when they parted company, and Hamida remembered it on the morning after their meeting on Darrasa Road; she rem mbered it with an imagination that was alive, alert, happy. "Will you go to meet him today?" she asked herself, and her heart answered, without hesitation, "Yes!" She, however, answered stubbornly, "Certainly not! He has to come back to the cafe first," and she refrained from going out at her accustomed hour and lurked behind the window, waiting to see what would happen. Sunset came and went. Night fell, spreading its wings-and at that moment, the man approached from the bottom of the alley, his eyes trained on the gap between the halves of the shutters, a smile of surrender on his face, and took his seat on his chosen chair. As she watched him, she experi­enced the joy of victory and the pleasure of revenge for the torments she'd suffered the day she'd been reduced to impotence by coming across him on Mouski Street. Their eyes held one another's for a long time during which she neither blinked nor retreated from her position and then his smile widened, and her own face hinted, without her real­ izing, at a smile. "What does he want?" she asked hersel£ The question seemed strange to her, since she could think of only one objective for such an insistent pursuit of her as his, the same that previously Abbas el-Helw had sought, and that Master Salim Elwan had aspired to before the hand of fate had struck him down. Why shouldn't it be the same for this distinguished effendi? But hadn't he said, "Weren't you put on this earth to be had? I'm the one who's going to have you"? What could that mean if it didn't mean marriage? So strong was her self-confidence, and indeed her overweening conceit, that her dreams found nothing to stop them. She looked at him from behind the parted shutters and received his stolen glances calmly, unflinchingly, and with poise. His eyes spoke to her in heartfelt tones that reduced both tongue and senses to incoherence and resonated in her depths, stirring her instincts. It may be that she had discovered, unwittingly, this deep, true feeling on the day their eyes met for the first time-the day that he had fixed her with his implacable, provocative gaze and smiled at her that triumphant smile, drawing her to him as though to a bruising battle. The fact was that she had recognized something of herself in the light behind those eyes; she was no longer lost in the labyrinth of life, no longer at a loss to choose between Abbas el-Helw's mild gaze and Master Salim Elwan's enormous wealth. She felt that this man was what she wanted and that the excitement, admiration, and provoca­ tiveness that he aroused in her breast were her own special source of stimulation, to which she was drawn by nature as the needle of a com­ pa** is to the pole, and that he was a man of a breed different (as she could tell from his appearance and his banknotes) from the trash who lived in thrall to poverty and need. She gazed at him with eyes that emitted flashes of pa**ion and eagerness, and only abandoned her station when he departed the cafe, bidding her farewell with a brief smile. Following him with her eyes, she said, as though it were a threat, "Tomorrow!" The afternoon of the following day she left the house, her heart full of yearning, animation, and intoxication with life. She had scarcely left Boxmakers Street before she saw him standing at a distance near the intersection of Ghouriya Street with New RDad. A sudden gleam appeared in her eyes and a strange, obscure feeling rose in her breast that was a mixture of pleasure and a wild desire for a fight. She reck­ oned that he would follow her up and down until the traffic on Darrasa Road had thinned out enough for them to talk, so proceeded at a leisure­ ly pace, without agitation or shame, and approached him as though she hadn't noticed his presence. As she pa**ed him, though, something that had never occurred to her happened: he walked along beside her and, with indescribable boldness, reached out and took hold of her hand, saying to her quietly and without regard for the people walking and standing around in the street, "Good evening, dearest." Caught unawares, she tried to take her hand back but without success, and was afraid of attracting attention if she tried again. Confused and angry, she found herself with two options-anger, making a fuss, and a scene followed by a definitive break, or a surren­ der that she would hate, because he had imposed it upon her by force. Filled with resentment, she whispered in a low voice that quavered with anger, "How dare you? Let go of my hand immediately." "Don't get all worked up!" he answered her quietly, walking by her side as though they were two friends setting off together on an excursion. "There's no call for formality between friends." Bursting with anger, she said, "The people ... the street ..." Seeking her sympathy with a smile, he replied, "Don't worry about the people on this street. They're obsessed with money and all they can think about is the sums in their heads. Would you like to go by a goldsmith's so I can buy you something worthy of your beauty?" Further provoked by his nonchalance, she said wrathfully, "Are you trying to make out you don't give a damn about anything?" Calmly, the smile never leaving his lips, he replied, "I'm not trying to make you mad, but I waited for you just so we could walk together, so what is there for you to be angry about?" Furiously, she answered, "I hate these shock tactics. Take care you don't make me go right off the deep end." Seeing the warning signs in her face, he asked her pleadingly, 'just promise me that we can walk together." "I'll promise you nothing," she yelled at him. "Let go of my hand!" He let go but didn't move away and said, to flatter her, "What a stubborn tyrant you are! Here's your hand, but we're not going to part, right?" Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she gave a furious sigh and said, "Arid what a conceited creep you are!" He accepted the insult with a smile and in silence and they walked side by side without her moving away from him. She recalled how just a few days ago she'd lain in wait for him on this very street so that she could make an example of him. This was the furthest thing from her mind now, though, and she was just glad that she'd been able to make him let go of her hand; in fact, if he'd tried to take hold of it again, she might have let him. And anyway, why had she left her house if not to meet him? On top of all that, she didn't like to think that he could appear calmer and more intrepid than her, so walked next to him pay­ ing no attention to the busy street and imagining the astonishment, mixed with envy, that the sight of him would stir up in the girls from the workshop-at which her heart quickly filled once more with yearning, arrogance, and a rampant desire for life and adventure. The man said, "I apologize for seeming rude, but what else am I to do When you're so stubborn? You've made up your mind to torture me, when I deserve your sympathy for all the honest feelings I have for you and all the trouble I go to for you...." What could she reply? She wanted to talk to him and hold a con­ versation, but she didn't know how, especially when the last words she'd uttered had been ones of reproof and abuse. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her girlfriends approaching from a short distance. With false dismay, she cried, "My friends!" The man looked ahead and saw the girls, who had made him the focus of their scrutiny, and she said again in a tone of reproach, to hide her pleasure, "Now everybody will say things about me." Contemptuously (though pleased that she was sticking to his side and talking to him as though they were companions), he responded, "You don't have to worry about them. Pay them no attention." The girls drew close and she exchanged meaningful glances with them, remembering some of the adventures that they'd told her about. Then the girls pa**ed, giggling and whispering, and the man started talking again, saying, with malice and cunning, "Those are your friends? Forget it! They're not in your league. But I'm surprised that they can go wherever they like when you have to stay locked up in the house, and that they can swan around in bright clothes when you wear this black rnilaya. How did that happen, princess? Just luck? Boy, what a patient and long-suffering girl you must be!" She blushed. She seemed to be listening to her own heart talking and her eyes caught fire from the enthusiasm and pa**ion that burned in her heart. In confident tones, he went on, "Yours is a beauty worthy of a star." Seizing this opportunity as a way to get into conversation with him, she turned toward him smiling with native boldness and asked, not understanding his meaning, ':A star?" "Naturally," he said, giving her a sweet smile. "Don't you go to the movies? They call beautiful actresses stars." She had been to the Cinema Olympia on rare occasions with her mother to see an Egyptian film so she realized what he meant and a gleeful joy swept through her whose rosy effect could be seen in her cheeks. He said nothing for a few paces and then asked her gently, "So what's your name?'' "Hamida," she replied unhesitatingly. Smiling he said, "And the one whose heart you've bewitched is Farag Ibrahim. In situations like ours, names are the last things people get to know, and then usually only after both are certain that they're really one-isn't that right, my best princess?" If only she could make conversation as well as she could curse and brawl! He spoke beautifully but she couldn't respond. This both­ ered her; she didn't care for the pa**ive role that girls of her type enjoy so much. She longed, instinctively, for something different­ something other than attentiveness, silence, and modesty. Since it was no easy thing to give expression to this obscure feeling, anxiety and agitation seized her and she fixed him witb a piercing look. That tbey'd reacbed tbe end of tbe street further upset her, for, not notic­ ing how fast tbe time had gone by, they had reached tbe edge of Queen Farida Square and she could see no alternative to saying, burying her regret deep within her, "Now we go back." "Go back?" he asked disbelievingly. "It's the end of the street." "But the world doesn't come to an end at the end of Mouski Street," he objected. "V\Thy don't we take a turn around the square?" "I don't want to be late getting home and upset my mother,'' she said, despite herself. "If you like," he said seductively, "we could take a taxi. Then •we could go a long way in a few minutes." A taxi! It had a strange ring to it. The only tbing she'd ever ridden in before was a cart and it took a few seconds for her to recover from the spell of tbe unfamiliar word. Of course, there was another side to it too, since she'd be riding in a taxi with a strange man. That aspect, however, was a spur to advance rather than retreat, and she was seized by an implacable urge for adventure, as tbough tbat would provide her witb relief from tbe suppressed sense of disquiet tbat only a little earlier she had found so difficult to express. She had been quite unaware tbat she had such a capacity for boldness and adventure and it would have been difficult to say, at that moment, which exercised the greatest power over her feelings-this man who moved her so deeply, or tbe adventure itself; perhaps tbe two of tbem were tbe same. She looked quickly at him and saw tbat he was watching her witb a seductive smile tbat had about it something of tbe smile tbat had for so long infuriated her. Her feelings changed and she said, "I don't want to be late." Disappointed, he said regretfully, "Are you afraid?" This made her angrier still and she told him challengingly, "I'm afraid -of nothing." As though this had taught him many, many things, his face lit up and he said happily, "I'll hail a taxi." She abandoned her objections and her eyes fixed on the taxi as it approached and pulled up in front of them. He opened the door for her and she bent down a little, her heart racing, her hand holding onto the front of her milaya to keep it closed, and got in, and the man followed, saying to himself, "This will save us two or three days of hard work." Then she heard him say to the driver, "Sherif Pasha." Sherif Pasha Street! Not the alley or Boxmakers Street or Ghouriya Street, or even Mouski Street, but Sherif Pasha Street! But why had he picked out that particular street? "Where are we going?" she asked and he replied, his shoulder touching hers, "We'll drive around a little and then go back." The taxi moved off and for a time she forgot everything, even the man, who was almost joined to her. Her eyes didn't know where to look, there were so many lights to attract them as the new world appeared to her, dazzling and smiling through the gla**. The taxi's motion transntitted itself to her body and her soul and an ecstatic intoxication arose within her, making her feel she was flying and swooping through the sky of the world, or as though her soul, from all the newness, was singing out loud in response to the surging movement and the constantly changing scenes and lights, so that her eyes shone with a brilliant hue and her mouth hung open in radiant stupefaction. Moving quickly, the taxi made its way through a sea of carriages, cars, streetcars, and pedestrians, and her imagination ran with it. Her enthusiasm was kindled, her feel­ ings were intoxicated, and her heart, her blood, and her thoughts danced. She came to a little at the sound of the man's voice in her ear, whispering, "Look at the beautiful women swanning along in their dazzling clothes!" It was true: they swayed and strutted like radiant heavenly bodies. How beautiful they were! How brilliant! Only then did she remember her milaya and slippers, and her heart fell and she snapped out of her elated state like one awoken from a happy dream by the sting of a scorpion. She bit her lip in chagrin, and the spirit of willfulness, revolt, and combat took possession of her once more. Becoming aware that he had been pressing up against her, she started to react to the sensation of his touch as it spread through her senses, and her heart grew warm toward him and yearned for him with a power beyond her will to control. He gave her a long look, as though seeking to divine her inclinations, then gently took her hand between his own. Encouraged by her surrender, he brought his mouth down on hers while she drew her head back a little, as though seeking to protect herself from him. This was not enough to stop him, however, and he pressed his lips against hers, sending a shudder through her body, and she felt an insane desire to bite his lips until they bled-an insane desire indeed, one that took possession of her as the demon of combat would sometimes do; but he pulled away from her before she could act upon it. The burning brand of insanity continued to flare in her breast, egging her on to throw herself on his chest and bury her finger­ nails in his neck, until he was saved by his own voice saying, gently, "This is Sherif Pasha Street. My house is a few steps away. Would you like to see it?" She turned, nerves taut, to look where his finger was pointing and saw buildings whose tops touched the sky, though she didn't know which one he meant. Ordering the driver to stop in front of one of them, he told her, "It's in this building." She beheld a huge, towering apartment block with an entrance wider than :tvridaq Alley. Baffled, her eyes recoiled in confusion and she asked him in a low voice, "Which floor?" "The first," he said, smiling. "It wouldn't do you any harm to pay it the honor of a visit." She gave him an angry and reproachful look and he went on, "You get mad so quickly! All the same, let me ask you what exactly would be wrong with it. Haven't I been your constant visitor from the moment my eyes fell on you? Why not repay me with a visit, then, even if it's only once?" What did the man want? Did he really think she'd make such easy prey? Had the kiss that she'd submitted to whetted his appetite for something more robust and dangerous? Had his conceit and confidence of victory blinded him? Was this what the love she'd pined for so much came down to? Anger flared in her heart. All her forces gathered themselves to compete and challenge and she wished she could just force herself to go with him wherever he desired so that she could show him the part of her that he didn't know and bring him to his senses. Yesl Her rampant, rebellious emotions called to her to enter this batde. But was it in her power to be summoned to the fight and then renounce her challenger? What provoked her wasn't any jealous anger on behalf of virtue, morals, or modesty. Those were all consid­ erations she was unaccustomed either to defend or to guard. It was defense of her pride, her overweening sense of power, and her insane desire to get into shouting matches and brawls. Nor had she lost the same mad desire for adventure that had propelled her into the taxi. The man looked at her tenderly but to himself said, speculatively and sarcastically, "My baby's one of those dangerous types who goes off at the slightest touch. She'll need great care and sk**ful handling," while to her he said, in gende and imploring tones, "I'd like to offer you a gla** of lemonade." 'As you wish," she murmured, shooting him a hard and challeng­ing look. Delighted, he opened the door and slipped out onto the street. She followed him closely with an air of nonchalance and daring and stood examining the place, while he paid the taxi, her thoughts turn­ ing to the alley that she'd left that same day and wondering at the adventures so fearlessly embarked on that had brought her in the end to this amazing building. Who would ever believe it? And what would Master Radwan el-Husseini, for example, say if he saw her going into the building? A smile traced itself on her lips and a strange feeling came over her that this was going to be, without exception, the happiest day of her life. The man hurried over to her and took her hand, and they entered the building together. Having mounted a wide staircase to the first floor, they proceeded down a long corridor to the door of an apart­ ment on their right, where he extracted a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, thinking to himself complacendy, 'fulother day or two saved." He opened the door, stood aside, and she entered, he following. Then he closed it. She found herself in a high-ceilinged entree with rooms off either side and lit by a bright electric chande­ lier. The apartment wasn't empty. Not only was the chandelier on when they entered, but voices reached her ears from behind the closed doors-talking and shrieking and singing. Farag Ibrahim made his way to the door opposite the entrance, pushed on it, and invited her to enter. She found herself in a room of medium size furnished with leather chairs and sofas and with a patterned carpet in the mid­ dle. Dominating the room was a highly polished mirror that stretched all the way up to the ceiling and was placed over an oval table with gilded legs. The man observed with pleasure the look of amazement and bewilderment in her eyes and said to her pleasandy, "Take off your milaya and sit down." She sat on a chair without taking off her milaya, her body relax­ ing into the soft back and seat. "I mustn't be late," she cautioned in a murmur. He went over to an elegant table in the middle of the room on which a thermos was set, unscrewed the top, and poured out two gla**es of iced lemon sherbet, offering her one. "The taxi will get you back in minutes." They drank together until they had quenched their thirst and then he put the gla**es back on the table, she stealing probing looks as he did so at his tall, slender body, her eyes lingering on his hand, whose beauty thrilled and attracted her. It was exquisitely made, with perfecdy formed fingertips, evoking strength and beauty in equal measure, and it gave her a wonderful feeling that she had never before experienced. He looked at her for a long time, smiling a discreet smile, as if to rea**ure, or encourage, her. She felt no fear at all, though, even if her nerves were a little on edge from the wariness, apprehension, and eagerness. She thought of the voices that she had heard as she entered the apartment and wondered how she could have forgotten about them. "What's all the noise in the apartment?" she asked him. Still standing before her, he replied, "Some people. You'll get to know them in good time. Why don't you take off your milaya?" When he'd invited her to his home, she'd imagined he must live on his own, so she was surprised that other people were there. She ignored his last question and went on staring at him serenely and challengingly. He didn't ask again but moved closer to her, until his shoes were touching her slippers, and, bending over her slightly, reached out his hand for hers and pulled on it, drawing her gently toward him as he said, ''Let's sit on the sofa." She made no objection but rose and went over to sit by his side on a large sofa. At that moment, she was torn between attraction toward the man whom she loved and a need to confront the man who might be indulging in the fantasy that he could make a fool of her. He moved gradually closer to her until his body was touching hers, then put his arm around her waist, while she gave in quietly, unclear when she ought to start resisting. He stretched his left hand out to her chin, lifted her mouth to his, and slowly brought his lips downwards, like a thirsty man about to lap water from a brook. Their lips met, and remained joined as though the two of them had fallen into a brief swoon of pa**ion, he gathering all his warmth and power into his lips, to make them the instrument of his desire, she ecstatic and intoxicated. Or so she would have been, had not her wariness ruined the spell of the lip-tingling magic and kept her vigilant and on guard. She felt his hand release its hold on her waist and climb toward her shoulder, then quickly snatch the milaya from it. Her heart pounded, her neck stiffened as it pulled away from him, and she put the milaya back in place with an angry movement, sternly crying, "No!" He looked at her in astonishment and found that she was regard­ ing him with a rigid look conveying aversion, obduracy, and challenge. He smiled with pretended foolishness, saying, to himself, "As I thought, she's a pain, a real pain,'' and to her; in a low voice, "Don't be angry with me, dearest. I forgot mysel£" She turned her face from him to hide the smile of triumph that had traced itself on her lips, which quickly faded, however, as her eyes happened to fall on her hand. For the first time, she became aware of the great difference between his beautiful hand and her coarse one, and was overcome by embarra**ment. Indignantly, she said to him, "Why did you bring me here? This is stupid." Objecting heatedly, he said, "It's the most beautiful thing I've done in my life. Why shouldn't you feel at ease in my home? Isn't it yours too now?" He glanced at her hair, from which the milaya had slipped, brought his head close, and kissed it, saying, "What beautiful hair you have! It's the most beautiful hair I've ever seen." He meant this when he said it, despite the smell of kerosene vaporizing in his nostrils. His praise thrilled her, even as she asked, "How long are we going to stay here?" "Until we've got to know one another. We surely have many, many things to say to one another. Are you afraid? I don't believe you can be. I don't think you fear anything." She felt so happy she longed to kiss him, her breast overflowing with new-found happiness, while he, scrutinizing her face, said to himself, "Now I've got your number, you s*ut.'' Then he told her, his voice quivering with ardor, "My heart has chosen you, and my heart never plays me false. Those whom love brings together, nothing shall ever part. You are mine and I am yours." He brought his face close to hers, as though seeking her permission and she bent her neck toward him and they met in a violent kiss. "Baby ... ," he whispered in her ear, becoming aware that the magical pressure of ber lips on his was almost squeezing them dry. "Baby ..." She sighed from the depths of her soul, then sat up straight to recover her breath. In a voice like a whisper and with extreme gentle­ ness, he said, "This is where you belong and this is your home. More-this" (and he pointed to his chest) "is your sanctuary." She gave a short laugh and said, "It looks like you're trying to remind me that I have to go home now." He was indeed pursuing a plan. Disbelievingly, he said, "What home do you mean? Your home in the alley? Ah, I wish you'd stop talking about that whole neighborhood. What do like about that alley? Why do you go back there?" "How can you ask me that?" the girl said, laughing. "Isn't it where my home and family are?" Contemptuously, he replied, "That's not your home and they're not your family. You're cut from a different cloth, my darling, and it's against religion for a fresh, living body to dwell in a graveyard full of worm-eaten bones. Didn't you see the beautiful women parading in their fashionable clothes? You're lovelier and more alluring than they, so how come you aren't strutting around like them in silken shawls and j**els? God has sent me to you to restore to your precious, true self its usurped rights, and that is why I say to you, 'This, and no other, is your home."' The words played on her heart as the musician's fingertips play on the striogs of the violin. She felt herself falling into a trance as her lids closed, and a dreamy look appeared in her eyes. At the same time, how­ ever, she asked herself, ""What do you suppose he has in mind?" This was truly what her heart pined for; what, then, would be the path by which she could realize her dreams and bring what she desired closer? Why did­ n't he say what he wanted clearly and state plaiuly what he intended to do? He was the most wonderful expression of her hopes, dreams, and desires; he spoke as though with her own unconscious tongue and uncov­ ered the deepest secrets of her heart; he made what was hidden and obscure plain to see and gave such form to the obvious that she could behold it as though with her own eyes--but for one thing, which he had not dealt with frankly or brought into the discourse (though what, she wondered, was the point of beating about the bush?). She looked at him with her beautiful, insolent eyes and asked him, "What do you mean?" The man, sensing that he was moving into a delicate phase in the execution of his plan, shot her a masterful, mesmerizing look, .and said in a low voice, "I mean you should stay in the house that is wor­ thy of you and enjoy the best that life can offer." Confused and embarra**ed, she gave a short laugh and muttered, "I don't understand a thing." Taking refuge in silence as he arranged his thoughts, he rubbed tenderly at the parting in her hair. Then he said, "Perhaps you're ask­ ing yourself, 'How can he want me to stay in his house?' Let me ask you in turn, 'Why should you return to the alley?' To wait there, as poor girls do, until one of its male denizens deigns to marry you and devour your succulent freshness and youth, only to leave you discarded after­ ward in the trash? I'm not talking to some silly girl who can be pulled this way and that by empty words but I do know this for •sure: you are a most unusual young woman. Your beauty is bewitching, despite which it is only one of a number of other virtues, which may even eclipse it. You are intrepidity personified. People like you, when they want some­ thing, say to it 'Be!' and it is." She turned pale and her features froze. Angrily, she said, "That kind of joke doesn't work with me. You started as though you were making fun and then you ended like you were serious." 'Joke? No, I swear by God, I swear by everything you mean to me-l don't joke when things are serious, especially with someone like you who makes me feel nothing but appreciation, respect, and love. If my intuition is correct, you're one of those great hearts that dismisses everything that stands in the way of its happiness and to whom nothing is an obstacle. I want a partner in life, and there is no one better qualified than you to be that partner." With great emotion, she yelled at him, "What partuer? If you're really serious, what do you want? It's obvious what you have to do, so if you want to ..." She was going to say "to marry me" but paused and directed suspi­ cious, angry looks at him. Catching her drift, he felt a covert sarcasm but pressed on since there was nothing to be gained by going back, and said with histrionic ardor, "I want a beloved partner so that we can embark on the journey of life together-a life of light, wealth, high social stand­ ing and happiness-not the life of a wretched house, pregnancy, child­ birth, and filth, but the life of the stars of whom I spoke to you." She opened her mouth in agitation. Then a frightening light shone from her eyes, she turned pale with rage and fury, and, too angry to restrain herself, she shouted at him, sitting up straight, "You're trying to corrupt me. You're nothing but a vicious corrupter." So she thundered in her anger, which, however, was due more to the shock of her surprise and disappointment than to the immorality, which was not something she was accustomed to get upset about. The man smiled mockingly, saying, "I'm a man ..." but, urged on by her hot temper, _she cut him short, crying, "You're not a man, you're a pimp!" He laughed loudly and asked, still laughing; "Isn't a pimp a man too? Sure he is. And a better man, I swear by your bewitching beauty, than any other. What will a regular guy give you but a headache? The pimp, though, is this world's broker of happiness. And don't forget that I'm your lover too. Don't let anger destroy our love. I'm inviting you to happiness and love and social standing. If you'd been a dumb girl, I'd have tried to trick you. But I weighed you up and preferred to be straight with you. We're the same sort. God created us to be lovers and work together. When we come together, so do love and money and social standing, and when we separate, or if one of us goes his own way, it will be for hardship, poverty, and abasement. That's why ..." Her eyes never left him as she wondered to herself in amazement, "How could he think of it that way?" Her breast continued to heave with emotion and excitement; amazingly, though she was furious with him, she didn't despise him and never stopped loving him for a moment. Indeed, even at the peak of her fury, she never forgot that she was fighting with the man who had whispered to her of love and planted it in her heart. Exhausted by the excitement, she rose with a sudden movement and said furiously, ''I'm not like you think." He sighed audibly, affecting regret, though his confidence, like that of any businessman,. never left him, and he said, in a voice full of sorrow, "I can hardly believe I was -wrong about you. Dear God, are you going to be an alley bride one day? Pregnancy and childbirth, pregnancy and childbirth? s**ling your children on the sidewalks? Flies, bisara, and ful beans? Dried up and flabby? No! No! I refuse to believe it." Unable to control herself any longer, she yelled at him, "That's it!" and rushed toward the door. He jumped up and was at her side, saying gently, "Easy now!" but he didn't bar her way; he opened the door for her and they went out together. She had arrived happy and fearless and she left broken and stunned. At the door to the building, they stood until a boy got them a taxi. Each got in by a different door and it set off with them, moving fast. Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she took no notice of the world around her, while he stole glances at her, maintaining a silence he could see no benefit in breaking. Thus they proceeded until the taxi reached the mid-point of Mouski Street, where he ordered the driver to stop and, hearing his voice, she looked about her. She shifted position slightly in readiness to get out, and he put his hand on the door handle to open it, but paused for a moment before leaning toward her, kissing her shoulder, and saying, 'Til be waiting for you tomorrow." "No way!" she said, tersely and angrily, pulling away from the door. As his hand turned the handle, he replied, "I'll be waiting for you, my darling ... and you will return to me." Then, as she left the taxi, he told her, "Don't forget tomorrow. We'll begin a wonderful new life. I love you. I love you more than life itself." A mocking smile on his lips, he watched her as she walked quickly away. "Pretty," he said to himself, "that's for sure. There's no way I can be wrong: she's got talent, she's a natural-born who*e.... She'll be a pearl without price.''