Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley (Chapter 31) lyrics

Chapter 31 Perhaps the only habit that she kept up from her old life was that of taking a stroll every day in the late afternoon. Now, however, before doing so she would spend a long time standing before the polished mirror, her feet in the golden basin, her body towering into the heavens of the room. She had finished dressing, completed her toilet, and looked like a new woman, one born to blooming good health and raised to wom­ anhood wearing the finest silks and satins. On her head a white turban rose in a helmet-like dome beneath which was piled her oiled and scented hair. Her cheeks and lips were made up with rouge but she had left the rest of her face unadorned, long trial having shown that her bronze complexion was more enticing and attractive to the allied troops as it was. Kohl had been applied to the edges of her eyelids and the lashes themselves painted with mascara and combed so that their silky ends curled upwards, while the lids cast violet shadows distilled from the breezes of dawn, and in place of her eyebrows were two cres­ cents, penciled in by a sk**ed hand. Two platinum chains with pearls the size of jujube fruit dangled from her ears and she wore a gold watch on her wrist, while a crescent-shaped aiguillette was planted in the front of the turban. Her dress was white, and through its diaphanous upper part showed a rose-colored blouse, while a flash of the brown of her legs could be glimpsed at its hem. She was wearing gray silk stockings, for no other reason than that they were expensive, and her armpits, hands, and neck exuded a heady fragrance. How everything had changed! ******* She sat in the middle of the seat, leaning back, her legs crossed. The silk dress slipped aside to reveal her inner thighs and she pulled out of her bag a packet of cigarettes, lit one, and started smoking with relish, ignoring the looks that snatched greedily at her exposed flesh. And she sank into deep thought. There was no way her heart would recover from its hurt, but at the same time there was no way she would release her grip on life's rope. She comforted herself with great hopes and thoughts of pleasures to come, but it never occurred to her that she would find a new love to make her forget the one that had failed her: she had a grudge against love, and once a person loses sight of love's shining essence, it never occurs to them that they will be lucky enough to come across it a second time. She paid attention to the street and found that the carriage was making .a circuit of Opera Square. As it did so, she caught sight of Queen Farida Square at a distance. Her imagination flew with her to Mouski Street, New Road, Boxmakers Street, and Midaq Alley. Shifting phantoms­ women and men-appeared before her eyes and she wondered whether any of them would recognize her if they saw her in these clothes. Would anyone be able to make Hamida out behind Titi? What did she care? She had no father and no mother. She exhaled the smoke from her cigarette dismissively, threw away the bu*t, and settled down to enjoy watching the street. Eventually the cab brought her back to Sherif Pasha Street and proceeded toward the bar that was her destination, and, at that instant, a voice, as from a suddenly sundered grave, a**ailed her ears, crying "Hamida!" Seized by panic, she turned toward it and beheld Abbas el-Helw an arm's length from her, panting.