annoyance. Her gaze fixed on the door, she remained motionless and silent. Then she got out of bed and went to the dressing table, standing there in astonishment gazing at the mirrors surrounding it.
The knocking started again, this time more loudly. She shouted, 'Who is it?'
His deep voice answered, 'Good morning. Why don't you open the door?'
Looking into a mirror, she saw that her hair was untidy, her eyes red, and her eyelids heavy. Good heavens! Was there no water to wash her face? Couldn't he wait until she was ready to receive him? Now he was knocking impatiently, but she paid no attention. She was recalling how upset she had been that first time in Darasa Street when he appeared unexpectedly and she had neglected to tidy herself properly. Today she was even more anxious and upset. She looked at the bottles of perfume on the dressing table, but as this was the first time in her life she had seen them, they could not solve her problem. She picked up an ivory comb and hurriedly ran it through her hair. With a corner of her nightdress she wiped her face, glanced again into the mirror, and sighed in angry exasperation. Then she picked up the key and went to the door. She was annoyed at being inconvenienced like this, and she shook her shoulders indifferently as she opened the door.
They met face to face and he smiled pleasantly. He greeted her politely, 'Good morning, Titi! Why have you neglected me all this time? Do you want to spend all day as well as all night away from me?'
Without saying a word she backed away from him. He followed her, the smile still on his lips. Then he asked, 'Why don't you say something, Titi?'
Titi! Was this some term of affection? Her mother had called her Hamadmad when she had wanted to tease her, but what was this Titi business? She stared at him in disbelief and muttered, 'Titi?'
Taking her hands and covering them with kisses, he replied, 'That's your new name. Keep it and forget Hamida, for she has ceased to exist! Names, my darling, are not trivial things to which we should attach no weight. Names are really everything. What is the world made up of except names?'
She realized that he considered her name, like her old clothes, as something to be discarded and forgotten. Hamida saw nothing wrong in that; it didn't seem right that in Sharif Pasha she should be called what she had been called in Midaq Alley. After all, her connections with the past were now cut forever, so why should she retain her name? Now, if only she could exchange her ugly hands for beautiful ones like his and trade her shrill and coarse voice for a nice soft one. But why had he chosen this strange name?
'It's a silly name; it doesn't mean anything.'
'It's a beautiful name,' he replied, laughing. 'Part of its beauty is that it has no meaning and a word without meaning can mean almost anything. As a matter of fact, it's an ancient name that will amuse Englishmen and Americans and one which their twisted tongues can easily pronounce.'
A look of bewilderment and suspicion came into Hamida's eyes. He smiled and went on: 'My darling Titi… relax… you'll know everything in good time. Do you realize that tomorrow you will be a lady of dazzling beauty and fame? This house will perform that miracle. Did you think the heavens would rain down gold and diamonds? Oh no; they rain only bombs! Now get ready to meet the dressmaker. Excuse me, I just remembered something important. I must take you to our school. I am a headmaster, my darling, not a pimp as you called me yesterday. Wear this robe and put on these slippers.'
He went to the dressing table and returned with a sparkling crystal bottle with a metal rim from which extended a red rubber tube. He pointed it at her and squeezed the bulb, spraying a heady perfume around her face. At first she trembled, then she inhaled deeply and relaxed, startled yet enjoying the sensation. He put the robe gently around her and brought her slippers to put on. Then he led her into the outer hall. They walked together to the first door on the right as he whispered, 'Try not to look shy or nervous. I know you're a brave girl and not afraid of anything.' His warning brought her to her senses; she stared hard at him, then gave a shrug of indifference.
'This is the first class in the school,' he continued, 'the department of Oriental dancing.'
He opened the door and they entered. She saw a medium-sized room with a polished wooden floor. It was almost empty except for a number of chairs stacked on the left and a large clothes stand in one corner. Two girls sat on chairs next to one another, and in the middle of the room stood a young man in a billowing white silk gown with a sash tied around his waist. Their heads turned toward the new arrivals and they all smiled in greeting. Ibrahim Faraj called out in an authoritative tone that showed he was their master, 'Good morning… this is my friend Titi.'
The two girls nodded their heads, and the young man replied in a thin effeminate voice, 'Welcome, mademoiselle.'
Titi returned the greeting in some bewilderment, staring hard at the odd young man. His modest, shy expression and crossed eyes made him appear younger than his thirty-odd years. He wore heavy makeup and his curly hair gleamed with Vaseline. Ibrahim Faraj smiled and introduced him to her. 'This is Susu, the dancing instructor.'
Susu appeared to want to introduce himself in his own fashion, for he winked at the seated girls and they began clapping in unison. The instructor then broke into a dance with astonishing grace and lightness. Every part of his body was in motion, from eyebrows to toes. All the time he gazed straight ahead with a languid expression on his face, smiling wantonly and exposing his gold teeth. Finally he ended his performance with an abrupt quiver. He straightened his back and the two girls stopped clapping. Thus the instructor's special welcome to the new girl was over. He turned to Ibrahim Faraj and asked, 'A new pupil?'
'I think so,' he answered as he glanced at Titi.
'Has she ever danced before?'
'No, never.'
Susu seemed delighted. 'That's marvelous, Mr. Ibrahim. If she doesn't know how to dance I can mold her as I wish. Girls who are taught the wrong dancing principles are very difficult to teach.'
He looked at Titi, then turned his neck right and left and said challengingly, 'Or do you consider dancing just a game, my pet? I'm sorry, darling, but dancing is the art of all arts, and those who master it are richly rewarded for their efforts. Look…'
He suddenly began making his waist shake with incredible speed. He stopped, then asked her gently, 'Why don't you take off your robe so I can see your body.'
Ibrahim Faraj interrupted him quickly. 'Not now… not now.'
Susu pouted and asked, 'Are you shy with me, Titi? Why, I'm only your sister Susu! Didn't you like my dance?'
She fought her embarrassment and tried to appear calm and indifferent. 'Your dance was marvelous, Susu,' she said, smiling.
The instructor clapped his hands and executed a brief dance step.
'What a nice girl you are,' he exclaimed. 'Life's most beautiful thing is a kind word. Does anything else last? One buys a jar of Vaseline and one never knows whether it will be for oneself or for one's heirs!'
They left the room, or rather the 'department,' and went into the corridor again. He then led her to the next room, feeling her eyes staring at him. They reached the door, and he whispered, 'The department of Western dancing.'
Hamida followed him inside. She now knew that retreat was impossible and that the past was completely erased. She was resigned to her fate; nevertheless, she wondered where happiness lay.
In size and decor the room was similar to the previous one, except that it was alive with noise and movement. A phonograph played music that was both strange and unpleasant to her ears. The room was filled with girls dancing together, and a well-dressed young man stood at one side, watching them closely and making comments. The two men exchanged greetings and the girls continued dancing, eyeing Hamida critically. Her eyes feasted on the room and the dancing girls, and she was dazzled by their beautiful clothes and skilled makeup. Now her feelings of longing and envy were mixed with those of humility. She turned toward Ibrahim Faraj and found him looking sedate and calm. His eyes radiated both superiority and power, and his face broadened into a smile as he turned and asked, 'Do you like what you have seen?'
'Very much.'
'Which type of dancing do you prefer?'
She smiled, but did not answer. They remained watching in silence and then left and went toward a third door. He had scarcely opened the door when she was staring wide-eyed in embarrassed amazement. In the middle of the room she saw a woman standing naked. Hamida stood frozen, unable to take her eyes off the spectacle. The
