myself saying harshly, in a trembling voice:
— And you — what business is my affair of yours? I shall not change my black clothes so long as they are in harmony with my soul. I lost the dearest thing I had, and the edifice of my life fell in ruins, on the ill-omened day I lost him... And he resembled you in every way... even your voice, which I have just heard, is exactly his voice.
My tears streamed down and I sped off in the car like a madwoman... And from that day the traffic policeman disappeared from my sight, and with his disappearance I lost a human being the sight of whom eased my anguish and stirred in my heart the pulses of life and memory... It made me happy to renew my precious memory by some prompting of the senses, some tangible spur. How wretched I am!
My stricken friend Alya went away and left me sorrowful, digging among the folds of the recent past. She appeared to me as she was two years ago, on the day her marriage contract was signed, radiant with beauty and gladness, dancing for joy. And she had every right that day to rejoice and dance, for she had won her cousin, the companion of her childhood and the beloved of her youth, despite the influence and the rivalry of that foreign girl who had lost her heart to him while he was completing his studies in Paris. I remembered the day I saw her driving the small black car he had given her after teaching her to drive. Then her image came back to my memory from the day I came upon the two of them strolling together in the reaches of our beautiful valley near "al-Hama"; and I remembered too the day I accompanied them, with their two mothers, to Beirut to fetch the wedding gown, and I pictured how she paraded in it
before the great mirror, glorying in her slender figure, her heady dark complexion, and her jet-black hair, while the bridal gown, with its whiteness and its majesty, set off her charms and
her lovely coloring.
After that, her image rose before my eyes wrapped in black, her back bent, her bones protruding, shedding tears in
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