Story of the Month: The Deceitful Visions

Night spread its canopy over the quarters of the city; every murmur fell still, and weary souls took to their beds, fleeing the toil of the day and the clamor of life.

In that awesome stillness Layla heard the rustle of garments brushing the door of her room, and she knew that her sister was waiting for her and that the hour had come to depart for the appointed place. So she slipped from her bed lightly and warily, while her husband was sunk in a sea of alluring dreams, murmuring words from which she understood that he was communing with the phantom of her friend Maliha—Maliha, the neighbors' daughter, who had bewitched him with her coquetry and her beauty and turned her life into a hell, after the two of them had lived in comfort and peace.

These words were an arrow aimed at Layla's heart which she could not pull out; she held her breath and swallowed her grief, for fear Husni might hear her sighing and wake. She walked toward the door, turning back to cast at her young husband a glance full of reproach, love, and sorrow. And when she had gone out she began to address him through the keyhole, saying: Farewell, Husni. I would not leave your side at such an hour, were it not that a voice whose source I do not know bids me go where I am going; and this may be the will of the fates, in whose unknown secrets a man loses his way, standing before them as the blind man stands before the seeing. You accused me of backwardness, ascribed ignorance and rigidity to me, and found fault with my piety and my devotion, and with my being far from the spirit of the age—since I will not dance with your friends nor attend their gatherings, and I shrink from walking with you bareheaded and bare-armed, and other such manifestations of a corrupt civilization—all of which you took as a pretext to be rid of me and an excuse to marry Maliha. But the days will never run smooth for you two so long as I am the one who holds the right to your love. And here I am, departing from you to seek the remedy the women prescribed for me, that with it I may mend what has gone wrong in you; and I shall make you drink its cup to the brim, however bitter it may be.

Her soul would have been lost in the dread of parting and the flood of sorrow, had not her sister tugged at her dress; and the two left the house, making for one of the neighboring villages where the famous fortune-teller Umm Shahin lived—she who mocks the minds of women, selling them drugs, talismans, and amulets as the best of medicines and the best of charms to cure their ailments and their souls. They set out on their way, seeing only thousands of suns and bewildered stars, and beholding only the specters of the trees and the shadows of the thickets spread along the sides of the road.

Scarcely had the dawn smiled with its radiant mouth when they crossed the bounds of the city, and there appeared to them in the distance a figure leading two mounts. They made it out, and behold, it was Masrur, Layla's servant, waiting for them; and when he drew near they rejoiced over him. Layla asked him: Has Husni learned of your coming? He answered: How could he, when I swore to you to keep this secret? Layla smiled and patted his shoulder; then the two turned their mounts toward the intended place, with Masrur in their train. But when its landmarks came into view they did not recognize them, and they began casting their eyes about its buildings, searching for the fortune-teller's hut, and found no trace of it; wonder took hold of them, and many misgivings beset them. And while they were pondering and reckoning, one of the doors opened upon a man short of stature and heavy of body, his frame hidden in a flowing black robe, who advanced toward them muttering: "Prey that fate has driven my way"... When he drew near them they felt a stir of fear, and he said: What has brought you two to this land? We said: Nothing—we have lost our way; we are bound for a certain monastery to fulfill our vow. He laughed a wicked laugh and said: I am the master of the monastery and lord of these lands, and I have such goods of religion and of this world as make vows needless. At his words we shuddered like a slaughtered victim, and we understood what he wanted, and we turned to call on Masrur for help—and behold, he had abandoned them and taken flight. The blood froze in her veins, and we feared what the matter would come to. Layla said in a faint voice and with a broken heart: Do you not see, Fatima, that this is a contrived plot? And scarcely had she finished her words when she sank down onto a rock behind her, faltering, crushed in spirit. As for Fatima, she braced herself and walked toward the man with a steady heart, and began to appeal to his mercy with fine words and with the tenderness and gentleness that were her nature, saying: If you are truly a lord, then set us free, so that people may tell of your virtue, and you will have over us a favor not to be denied; and if you are in need, then take all we possess—only grant us our lives, for we have left behind us our husbands and our children. And scarcely had she finished speaking when the jingling of the bracelets and jewels on Fatima's wrists had worked upon his soul like magic, and he fell upon the two of them roughly, stripping them of every ornament. Fatima was not dismayed at this, nor did she despair; rather she found an excuse for the thief in that sinful greed, and she began scattering what she had of coins and jewelry, content with that ransom, until the thief had drained the last of her money. And when he had gone from her she leaned over her sister, calming her fright, and said: Good tidings, sister! Rise, for we have escaped the snares of this wretch. Fatima's sleeves were still rolled back from her wrists—and behold, they were bare of every ornament, after having been laden with gold. Layla was astounded at this and said with anguish and burning: Did you not keep back for us something with which to buy the bitter medicine? Fatima smiled a mournful smile and answered, the tears welling in her eyes: We have bought, sister, what is dearer and more precious than all of this; so do not grieve over what is past, for it is God alone who grants happiness, awakens hope, and guides to the right path.

The sun had climbed high and the oppression of the heat had grown fierce, and the two sisters set off from that pestilent place, crossing the scorching earth, silent and anguished, as though touched with madness, after having witnessed that abominable happening, the like of which they had never heard in the legends of the ancients—a happening whose events had closed in upon them and left them prey to their thoughts in unraveling its riddles. And while they were sunk in their daze a carriage passed by them, and they boarded it straightway to their father's house. After they had breathed the air of the house and rested from the hardship of the journey, Fatima said gently to her sister: And now, what do you mean to do, Layla, after meeting such disappointment as you have met in seeking the bitter medicine? You have drained the cup of humiliation and disgrace, and it was more bitter than that medicine! Will you not put Husni out of mind and stay with us in ease and peace until this spell of folly and passion runs its course and he comes back to his senses?? Layla bowed her head a long while—not to prepare an answer, but to summon up in her imagination the image of Husni, to reproach him and settle accounts with him. And there rose before her the picture of her house, adorned with the magic of love and beauty, and she found nothing to equal life in it with her husband; and she went searching the corners of her soul for some other means of mending what lay between them—but how could she, when the husband was still a captive in the prison of his new Eve.

Some days passed after their parting, during which all contact between the two of them was cut off. Layla wasted away and lay sleepless and wakeful, and family and friends pressed her to leave the town to refresh her spirits; but she refused to do anything but remain near Husni, gleaning news of him, still consoling herself with the hope of returning to her house, and hoping it was but a spell of folly between him and Maliha that would soon run its course.

On one of those evenings Layla heard from afar gunshots piercing the veils of space; she trembled and was shaken, and felt her heart about to leap from her breast. She threw off her wrap and hurried to the window, answering the call of her forebodings—and behold, she saw close by a procession of splendid automobiles moving slowly, at their head a bridal car wreathed about with flowers and sweet herbs. And behold, the bride and groom were Husni and Maliha... and behold, Husni, the faithless husband, never lifted his eyes to that house beneath whose balcony he was passing—the house whose people he had come to know in the dawn of his married life, becoming their kinsman by marriage, learning their circumstances and privy to their inmost secrets; they had given him their love and offered him the best of their daughters in form and in character, and he kept no faith with them nor honored any pledge.

No sooner did Fatima hear the blaring horns of the cars and the chanting of the passersby than she came to her sister to shut the window against her, to screen her from that scene in which the fates were playing their mocking part—and behold, she saw that Layla had folded in upon herself, her color had gone deathly pale, and she had passed into the eternal swoon; and behold, the cheers of the wedding and the wailing of the funeral mingled in the conscience of space.

Husni passed long, heavy days. Layla's phantom would visit him by night and rob him of sleep, and hover about him by day, contending and disputing with him, until wakefulness wore him thin and thinking exhausted him, and the voice of conscience pressed upon him, rebuking him in its jarring tones. His temper changed, and the fever of his love for Maliha cooled; and Maliha, at his side like one distracted, tried to ease him and divert him, but to no avail. One night he was seized with a violent sleeplessness and said to his wife: Light the room for me, and bring me the newspapers and magazines that are on the table, for I feel a need to read. Maliha pressed the electric button and it filled the room with its brilliant light; but Husni did not see the light, and thought the current was cut. He said: No matter—light the oil lamp. Maliha was stunned, her limbs trembled, and she stood staring into Husni's wide-open eyes—and behold, they neither blinked nor moved. And behold, Husni felt the crushing blow and said in abjection and brokenness: "My God, how swift is Your vengeance! Would that she for whom You have taken vengeance could know it." Maliha was shaken, and felt the thunderbolts of remorse and the stings of retribution gnawing her heart, and she began to weep until she nearly choked on her tears. And Masrur sensed the horror of the calamity and came to his master, humble and fearful, and fell upon his feet, wetting them with tears and saying: Your pardon, my lord! We sinned against fate, Maliha and I, and its blow has requited us, for we were the true criminals. Then he began to recount to his master the tale of the plot that Maliha had contrived to lead Layla and her sister astray into the land of the thieves, and how she had tempted him with abundant money, and threatened him and warned him with menace if he did not do what he did—and so it came to pass.

Husni made no answer, but tasted the bitterness of grief and the smart of pain and remorse. As for Maliha, it was not long before she felt the weight of life with a blind husband, and she left the house never to return, repeating Husni's aching words: "Though you flee from me, Maliha, you shall find no rest from the torment of conscience."