knew her while tremendous forces contended over her body, her heart, and her spirit, and I was always anxious for her, afraid those violent forces would storm through her and wither her before her time, or destroy her before her hour."
Mrs. Shaarawi succeeded in this precise description, brief and eloquent as it is, as though by it she were interpreting the saying of al-Mutanabbi:
When souls are great, bodies grow weary in pursuit of what they desire.
And it is a sound judgment which the modern psychologists confirm with present-day proofs, and of which life shows us every day one of its many colors as a witness.
This human being, May — this poetic spirit, delicate in her tremors, great in her self-respect, possessed of a loftiness with all its refined sensitivity — life afflicted her as it had afflicted no one before; it afflicted her with what is worse than ruin and more evil than savagery, and her faith in mankind was stabbed with a grievous stab — this mankind whose capacity for reform she believed in, hopeful and aspiring in that belief.
May had high ideals of which she often spoke to us, ideals that rose above acquaintance with individuals and with the malice and deceit at work in their core, for her view of people was a general, expert view, like her view of life.
May had a heart — and what a heart! — a generous heart with room for mercy, tenderness, goodness, love, and beauty; and none but she had room for what is in the hearts of men.
May's intention was a good one, untainted by any flaw; no grudges or hatreds worked within it, and it remained sound and shining. That is why the shock was so violent and telling when she learned the true metal of human beings — she who had kept company only
with the noblest of people, had tested no wood but that of musky fragrance, and had seen nothing but the gleaming jewel.
As for May's beating heart, May's heart full of vitality and life, May's heart wrapped in mystery for all its chaste love and Platonic passion — this noble beating heart which the pens of the men of letters have treated only rarely — it is not that I do not know it — I shall devote to it, God
willing, a book of its own, after study and scrutiny, taking the facts from their proper sources, that I may pay some part of May's due to literature. Did she not say: "I hope that after my death someone will come who will do me justice, and will draw out of my little writings the spirit of sincerity, truth, and love that is in them, and the ardor for everything good and wholesome and beautiful — because it is so."
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