age to age, and from year to year.

From behind the veil she painted canvases in oils, and with most of them she has adorned the walls of her sweet house.

And from behind the veil, too, Mrs. Almas wrote prose and composed verse, and rarely did she show any of it to anyone... and I did not ask her why...

Were they deceived, I wonder, in those days, thinking that a woman's fingertips did not know how to command the pen and the brush?

She used to visit Mrs. Julia Tu'mah Dimashqiyah, who had the greatest influence upon her, and she published some articles in her magazine al-Mar'a al-Jadida; she also published some of her writings in the magazine al-Khidr, which Afifa Saab brought out, in the magazine Minerva of Marie Yanni Ata Allah, and in the magazine al-Fajr of its proprietor Najla Abillama. She knew Mrs. Marie Yanni as well, who was her friend and guide. As for May, she met her in Beirut, when the Women's League invited her to give a lecture at its club. May, as she remembers her, was elegant and captivating.

She has voluminous memoirs, and she mentioned to me that she will publish most of them in the near

future — however long the time has grown in which she no longer unveils what her soul has to say.

I leafed through her memoirs, and every page of them has a color and a tale. On the first page she addresses her Lord, saying:

"Would, my Lord, that a crust of Your bread might keep body and soul together in us and nourish our souls that hunger for faith and knowledge, for religion and virtue.

Would, my Lord, that limpid water from Your spring might refresh the spirits that thirst for every tenderness and mercy..."

And on March 11, 1953, she says:

"Today I am in a deathly torpor, and in my inmost self there is a towering, awesome desolation... perhaps it is the ring of nothingness opening its jaws to close around me..."

And she addresses her pen, saying:

"You are to me, my pen, an instrument of good and blessing... you are an arrow I have loosed from between my fingertips, that with it I may strike a mark from which springs a gleam of light and a breath of spirit, so that my soul finds ease and rejoices. Am I not a human being, and then a woman, who holds of the right of life, for her and upon her, what fits her for the true life, and for the building of the nation and the homeland..."

And now... will you grant me that the domineering red of the anemones is not alone in adorning the fields of our society?...

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