Egypt -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories; Short stories
"O Kimri," directed the Lady Zuleyka, and languidly extended her hand
in my direction, "throw this presumptuous clown into the street!"
My discomfiture had proceeded far enough, and I recognized that, at
whatever risk of discovery, I must act instantly. Therefore, at the
moment that El-Kimri reached the foot of the steps, I dashed my left
fist into his grinning face, putting all my weight behind the blow,
which I followed up with a short right, utterly outraging the
pugilistic proprieties, since it was well below the belt. El-Kimri bit
the dust to the accompaniment of a human discord composed of three
notes--and I leaped up the steps, turned to the left, and ran off
around the Mosque of el-Ashraf, where I speedily lost myself in the
crowded Ghurîya.
Beneath their factitious duskiness my cheeks were burning hotly: I was
ashamed of my execrable artistry. For a druggist's assistant does not
lightly make love to a duchess!
IV
I spent the remainder of the forenoon at my house in the Darb el-Ahmar
heaping curses upon my own fatuity and upon the venerable head of
Abdul the Know-all. At one moment it seemed to me that I had wantonly
destroyed a golden opportunity, at the next that the seeming
opportunity had been a mere mirage. With the passing of noon and the
approach of evening I sought desperately for a plan, knowing that if
I failed to conceive one by midnight, another chance of seeing the
famous prescription would probably not present itself for twelve
months.
At about four o'clock in the afternoon came the dawn of a hazy idea,
and since it necessitated a visit to my rooms at Shepheard's, I washed
the paint off my face and hands, changed, hurried to the hotel, ate a
hasty meal, and returned to the Darb el-Ahmar, where I resumed my
disguise.
There are some who have criticized me harshly in regard to my
commercial activities at this time, and none of my affairs has
provoked greater acerbitude than that of the perfume called "Breath
of Allah." Yet I am at a loss to perceive wherein my perfidy lay; for
my outlook is sufficiently socialistic to cause me to regard with
displeasure the conserving by an individual of something which,
without loss to himself, might reasonably be shared by the community.
For this reason I have always resented the way in which the Moslem
veils the faces of the pearls of his _harêm_. And whilst the success
of my present enterprise would not render the Lady Zuleyka the poorer,
it would enrich and beautify the world by delighting the senses of men
with a perfume more exquisite than any hitherto known.
Such were my reflections as I made my way through the dark and
deserted bazaar quarter, following the Shâria el-Akkadi to the Mosque
of el-Ashraf. There I turned to the left in the direction of the
Hamzâwi, until, coming to the narrow alley opening from it into the
Sûk el-Attârin, I plunged into its darkness, which was like that of
a tunnel, although the upper parts of the houses above were silvered
by the moon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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