Zaynab?'
Zaynab could not help laughing. She replied, 'Praise God, I haven't, but I've heard it used against other people'.
Everyone laughed, and Khadija was the first. Then they saw suddenly that the mother was trying to listen to something. She said, 'Hush'. They all stopped laughing immediately. They could hear people shouting outside.
Khadija said at once in alarm, 'Al-Sayyid Ridwan has died'.
Maryam and her mother had excused themselves from the wedding because of the acute condition of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan. It was not strange, then, that Khadija should infer from the clamor that he had died. The mother rushed out of the room. After a few minutes she returned to say with great sorrow, 'Shaykh Muhammad Ridwan has indeed passed away… What an awkward situation'.
Zaynab said, 'Our excuse is as obvious as the sun. It’s no longer in our power to postpone the wedding or to keep the bridegroom from celebrating his special night in his house, which, praise God, is far away. What more can they expect from you than this profound silence?'
Khadija, though, was lost in other thoughts that cast fear in her heart. She saw an evil portent in this sad news. She murmured as though to herself, 'O Gracious Lord…'
Her mother read her thoughts and became upset too, but she refused to yield to this uninvited emotion or to allow her daughter to do so. Pretending to play down the importance of the coincidence, she commented, 'We should not second-guess God’s decree. Life and death are in His hands. Looking for evil omens is the work of Satan'.
Yasin and Fahmy joined the assembled women in the bride’s room once they had finished dressing. They told the mother that al-Sayyid Ahmad had gone to represent the family, in view of the pressure of time. He would bear the necessary condolences to the family of al-Sayyid Ridwan.
Yasin looked at Khadija and said with a laugh, 'Al-Sayyid Ridwan refused to remain in this world once you decided to move out of our neighborhood'.
She responded with a pale smile that gave no indication of her feelings. He began to examine her carefully and nod his head in approval. He sighed and remarked, 'Whoever said, 'Dress up a reed and you can make it look like a bride,' was right'.
She frowned to indicate she was not prepared to banter with him. She brushed him off: 'Be quiet. I don't think it’s a good omen that al-Sayyid Ridwan has died on my wedding day'.
He laughed and said, 'I don't know which of you is more to blame'. He laughed some more and continued: 'Don't worry about the man’s death. What I'm afraid does not augur well is your tongue. My advice for you, which I never tire of repeating, is to soak your tongue in sweet syrup till it’s fit for you to converse with the bridegroom'.
At that, Fahmy said in a conciliatory way, 'Putting aside the question of al-Sayyid Ridwan, your wedding day coincides with a blessing for which the world has been waiting a long time. Don't you know that the armistice has been announced?'
Yasin cried out, 'I almost forgot about that. Your wedding isn't today’s only miracle. Something happened for the first time in years. The fighting stopped and Kaiser Wilhelm surrendered'.
Their mother asked, 'Will the high prices and the Australians go away?'
Yasin laughed and replied, 'Naturally… of course. The high prices, the Australians, and Miss Khadija’s tongue'.
Fahmy looked thoughtful. He remarked as if to himself, 'The Germans were defeated… Who would have imagined that? There’s no longer any hope that Khedive Abbas or the nationalist leader Muhammad Farid will return. All hopes of restoring the Muslim caliphate have been lost. The star of the English continues in the ascendant while ours sets. We're in His hands'.
Yasin said, 'The two who got something from the war are the English and Sultan Fuad. Without it, the former could never have dreamed of getting rid of the Germans and the latter could never have dreamed of ascending the throne of Egypt'. He was quiet for a moment and then continued merrily: 'And there’s a third party whose luck was equal to theirs. She’s the bride who never dreamed of finding a husband'.
Khadija cast him a threatening glance and remarked, 'You insist on provoking me to say something vicious about you before I leave the house'.
He backed down, saying, 'I'd better ask for an armistice. I'm no mightier than Kaiser Wilhelm or Hindenburg'. Yasin looked at Fahmy, who seemed more pensive than was appropriate for such a happy occasion. Yasin advised him, 'Put politics behind you and prepare for music, delicious food, and drinks…'
Although many thoughts were running through Khadija’s mind and dream upon dream filled her heart, an insistent memory from just that morning almost obliterated all her other concerns because of its intense impact on her. Her father had invited her to a private meeting in honor of the day that was the beginning of a new life for her. He had received her with a graciousness and compassion that were a healing balm for the shame and terror that afflicted her, making it difficult for her to walk without stumbling. He had told her, with a tenderness that made a strange, unprecedented impression on her, 'May our Lord guide your steps and grant you success and peace of mind. I cannot give you any better advice than to imitate your mother in every respect, both great and small'.
He had given her his hand, which she kissed. Then she had left the room, so moved and touched she could scarcely see what was in front of her. She kept repeating to herself, 'How gracious, tender, and compassionate he is…'
With a heart filled with happiness she remembered his words: 'Imitate your mother in every respect, both great and small'.
Her mother had listened to her with a blushing face and flickering eyelids when Khadija asked, 'Doesn't this mean he thinks you're the best model for the best kind of wife?' She had laughed and continued: 'What a lucky woman you are! Who could have believed all this? It’s like a happy dream. Where was all this beautiful affection stored away?' She had invoked God’s blessing for him until her eyes flowed with tears.
Then Umm Hanafi came to inform them that the automobiles had arrived.
48
The coffee hour lost Khadija just as it had previously lost Aisha, but Khadija left a void that remained unfilled. She seemed to have taken with her the session’s spirit, plundered its vitality, and deprived it of the qualities of fun, mirth, and squabbling that were so important to it. As Yasin observed to himself, 'In our conversations she was like the salt in food. Salt by itself doesn't taste good, but what taste is there to food without it?' Out of consideration for his wife, he did not make his opinion public. Although his hopes for marriage were so disappointed that he no longer sought a remedy at home, he at least worried about hurting her feelings, if only to keep her from growing suspicious of his spending night after night 'at the coffee shop,' as he claimed.
Yasin preferred mirth to seriousness so much that there was little of the serious about his character. Now he had lost the companion who inspired his jokes and taunted him in return. Thus all he could do was content himself with the few remnants of his traditional observance of the coffee hour. He sat on the sofa with his legs folded under him, sipped some coffee, and looked at the sofa opposite, where the mother, his wife, and Kamal were absorbed in meaningless chatter. For perhaps the hundredth time he was amazed at Zaynab’s earnestness. He remembered that Khadija had accused her of being dull and was inclined to accept that opinion. He would open al-Hamasa, Abu Tammam’s collection of ancient poems, or 'The Maiden of Karbala', a novel by Jurji Zaydan, and read to himself or relate to Kamal some of what he had read.
When he looked to his right, he found that Fahmy wanted desperately to talk. What would it be about? The nationalist leaders Muhammad Farid and Mustafa Kamil? Yasin had no idea, but it was clear that Fahmy was going to speak. Indeed, today, ever since returning from the Law School, he had looked like a sky threatening to rain. Should he stir him up? No, there was no need for that. Fahmy was acknowledging his glance with intense interest and staring at Yasin as though he was about to address him. He asked, 'Don't you have any news?'
Fahmy asked him what news he had! 'I've got too much news to count,' he thought. 'Marriage is just a big deception. After a few months as tasty as olive oil, your bride turns into a dose of castor oil. Don't feel sad that you didn't get to marry Maryam, you callow politician. Do you want some other news? I've got a lot, but it definitely
