kitchen. Each of them fills the belly with life'.
The woman lowered her eyes for a time. The proprietor expected her to look up at him with a bright smile, but the glance she directed at him was serious. He sensed at once that she had changed strategy or perhaps was not really comfortable about slipping into a relationship so quickly. She turned away and then he heard her say quietly, 'May God help you… but all we need today are rice, coffee, and sugar'.
The proprietor stepped away from her and tried to look serious. He summoned his assistant and in a loud voice entrusted the lady’s orders to him. He gave the impression that he too had decided to refrain from being too affectionate and to get back to business, but it was just a maneuver. Immediately afterward he went on the attack again with his smile and murmured to the sultana, 'The store and its proprietor are yours to command'.
The maneuver had its effect, for the woman said jokingly, 'I want the store, and you insist on giving yourself'.
'I'm no doubt better than my store, or the best thing in it'.
She beamed with a mischievous smile and said, 'This contradicts what we've heard about the excellence of your merchandise'.
The proprietor laughed boisterously and said, 'Why do you need sugar when there’s all this sweetness on your tongue?'
This verbal battle was followed by a period of silence during which each of them appeared content with himself. Then the performer opened her purse and took out a small mirror with a silver handle. She began to look at herself. The proprietor went back to his desk. He stood, leaning on the edge of it, while he studied her face with interest.
The truth was that when his eyes had first noticed her, his heart had told him that she had not made her visit merely to buy something. Then her warm and responsive conversation had confirmed his suspicions. Now all that remained was for him to decide whether to respond or to bid her a final adieu. It was not the first time he had seen her, for he had frequently run into her at weddings hosted by his friends. He knew from secondhand reports that al-Sayyid Khalil al-Banan had been her lover for a long time but that they had recently separated. Perhaps it was for this reason that she was looking for goods at a new store. She was very beautiful, even though her status as a singer was only second-rate. All the same, he was more interested in her as a woman than as a singer. She certainly was desirable. Her folds of flesh and fat would warm a chilly man during the bitter cold of winter, which was at hand.
His reflections were cut short by al-Hamzawi, who brought the three parcels. The maid took them, and the lady thrust her hand into her purse, apparently to take out some money. Al-Sayyid Ahmad gestured to her not to try to pay: 'That would be quite wrong'.
The woman pretended to be astonished. 'Wrong, Mr. al-Sayyid? How can doing what’s right be wrong?'
'This is an auspicious visit. It’s our duty to greet it with the honor it deserves. It would be impossible for me to do justice to it'.
While he was talking, she stood up. She did not offer any serious resistance to his generosity but warned, 'Your generosity will make me hesitate more than once before I come back to you again'.
The proprietor laughed boisterously and replied, 'Have no fear! I'm generous to a customer the first time, but I make up for my loss later, even if I have to cheat. This is the way merchants operate'.
The lady smiled and held out her hand to him. She commented, 'When a generous man like you cheats, it isn't really cheating. Thank you, Sayyid Ahmad'.
He responded from the depths of his heart, 'Don't mention it, Sultana'.
He stood watching her strut toward the door and then climb into the carriage. She took her place, and Jaljal sat on the small seat opposite her. The carriage rolled off with its precious cargo and disappeared from sight.
Then here was al-Hamzawi, asking as he turned a page of the ledger, 'How can this sum be accounted for?'
The proprietor looked at his assistant with a smile and replied, 'Write beside it: 'Goods destroyed by an act of God.'' He murmured to himself as he returned to his desk, God is beautiful and loves beauty'.
15
That evening al-Sayyid Ahmad closed his store and set off surrounded by respectful glances and diffusing a pleasant fragrance. He proceeded to the Goldsmiths Bazaar and from there to al-Ghuriya till he reached al-Sayyid Ali’s coffee shop. As he passed it, he looked at the singer’s house and the adjoining buildings. He observed that the string of shops on both sides of it were still open and that the flow of pedestrian traffic was at its height. He continued on to a friend’s house, where he passed an hour. Then he excused himself and returned to al-Ghuriya, which was engulfed in darkness and almost deserted.
Confident and relaxed, he approached the house. He knocked on the door and waited, looking carefully at everything around him. The only light came from the window of al-Sayyid Ali’s coffee shop and from a kerosene lamp on a handcart at the corner of New Street. The door opened and the form of a young servant girl could be seen. Without any hesitation, in order to inspire in the girl trust and confidence, he asked her in a forceful voice, 'Is Madam Zubayda at home?'
The girl looked up at him and asked with the reserve her job required, 'Who are you, sir?'
He responded determinedly, 'A person who wishes to reach an agreement with her for an evening’s entertainment'.
The girl was gone for some minutes before returning to invite him in. She stepped aside to allow him to enter. He followed her up the narrow steps of the staircase to a hallway. She opened the door facing him, and he passed through it into a darkened room. He stood there near the entrance, listening to her footsteps as she ran to fetch a lamp. He watched her place it on a table. She moved a chair to the center of the room to stand on while she lit the large lamp hanging from the ceiling. Then she put the chair back where it belonged. She took the small lamp and left the room, saying politely, 'Please have a seat, sir'.
He went over to a sofa at the front of the room and sat there confidently and calmly, demonstrating that he was accustomed to situations like this and certain the results would be to his liking. He removed his fez and placed it on a cushion at the center of the sofa. He stretched his legs out and made himself comfortable. He saw a room of medium size with sofas and chairs arranged around the sides. The floor was covered with a Persian carpet. In front of each of the three large sofas stood a serving table inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The windows and door were hung with curtains that prevented the aroma of incense he enjoyed from escaping. He amused himself by watching a moth flutter nervously and eagerly around the lamp. While he waited, the servant brought him coffee. It was some time before he heard the rhythmic thump of slippers striking the floor.
He became fully alert and stared at the opening of the door, which was immediately filled by the prodigious body, its pronounced curves sensuously draped in a blue dress. The moment the woman’s eyes fell on him she stopped in astonishment and shouted, 'In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful!.. You!'
His eyes ran over her body as quickly and greedily as a mouse on a sack of rice looking for a place to get in. He said admiringly, 'In the name of God. God’s will be done'.
After her pause, she continued to advance, smiling. She said with pretended fear, 'Your eye! God protect me from it'.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad rose to take her outstretched hand. Sniffing the fragrant incense with his enormous nose, he asked, 'Are you afraid of an envious eye even when protected by this incense?'
She freed her hand from his and stepped back to sit on one of the side couches. She replied, 'My incense is a boon and a blessing. It’s a mixture of various kinds, some Arab and some Indian that I blend myself. It’s capable of ridding the body of a thousand and one jinn'.
He sat down again and said, waving his hands in despair, 'But not my body. My body has a jinni of a different sort. Incense doesn't do any good with him. The matter is more severe and dangerous'.
The woman struck her chest like a heaving water skin and shouted, 'But I perform at weddings, not exorcisms'.
He said hopefully, 'We'll see if you have a remedy for what ails me'.
They were silent for a time. The sultana started to look at him somewhat reflectively, as though trying to
