back to the palace harem, our driver will continue on to Virginie’s house. Rachid will accompany me. It is unusual that I should make such a trip on my own, but because Rachid is accompanying me and because the invitation has come from a dear friend of the sultan’s family, it will not be viewed as shameful.
I climb into our carriage and sit with my sisters. As we are driven through the streets, I break my news. Even in the dark, I can see my sisters’ eyes twinkling at my adventure. I say nothing to suggest that my visit to Virginie is anything more than an innocent supper party for her and her special lady guests.
“Rachid will escort me home,” I say, waving them good-bye at the palace gates as Tindoui escorts my veiled sisters through the palace to the harem. On we go to Zamalek. I pull my veil down over my face as I step out of the carriage and, accompanied by Rachid, I mount the steps to the front door. Virginie opens the door herself. She smiles. She says she has been waiting for me. She is excited, she says. Did I enjoy the play? Would I care for refreshments in her sitting room?
I dismiss Rachid. Virginie tells him he can go to the kitchen. Her boy-servants are preparing a supper feast, and he is welcome to have whatever he likes.
I follow Virginie. We walk up the stairs together with arms linked. She unfurls my veil and looks into my eyes.
“He’s here,” she whispers. I nod, hardly able to speak.
“I know,” I reply.
“I will leave you alone for a time. No one will disturb you. As you know, my husband is away in Malta. My servants are under my supervision. They will not go to the second-floor sitting room.”
“Why are you doing this, Virginie?” I ask her, holding her hands in mine.
“I want you to be happy, Hezba,” she says, hugging me.
I wish she were my mother, my sister. I cannot imagine a kinder or better person than she. She knows that al-Shezira is on his way from Minya to get me. She knows that I hate him. She knows too that I dream of being allowed to divorce him, but she knows this will never be allowed. Still, despite this knowledge, she does not judge me. She wants me to be happy. She leads me to the door of the sitting room, pushes it open, and nudges me in with a little laugh. Alexandre is standing by the divan. He is smiling. He says nothing. I stand with my back to the door and unravel my veil, then remove it entirely. For what seems like an eternity, we stand at opposite ends of the room, staring at each other. I step forward with my heart in my mouth and clear my throat.
“Monsieur Alexandre,” I say.
He puts his finger to his mouth and comes to me, enfolding me in his arms.
“We don’t have long, Hezba,” he whispers.
I bury my face in his neck, wrap my arms around his neck, and inhale his scent. I feel warm and protected. Then I look up at him and say, “Is it all arranged?”
He nods and looks into my eyes. “We’re meeting next week at Kerdassa. You must come. Do anything you can to come. I am going todiscuss the whole operation with my men, the Rebel Corps. But we need the money you promised us. Can you bring it with you?”
I assure him that I will have it. I have been amassing my allowance for a long time, and it has turned into a small fortune, which I keep locked in a jewelled box in my rooms. Alexandre needs it more than I do. He asks me to sit with him on the divan. Then he gently folds me in his arms once more and reaches for my mouth with his own. I tremble inside. I stare into his dark eyes, and I see the love he feels for me shining there. He holds my chin as he kisses me. Then he pulls me closer. Lying back, I let him press his body onto mine. He is gentle and loving. He does not force himself on me like al-Shezira used to. I feel his hands on my flesh and I shudder inside. I desire only to be with him, to feel the pressure of him inside me, to extinguish the entire world so that no one exists except for us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Littoni closed up
I climb into our carriage and sit with my sisters. As we are driven through the streets, I break my news. Even in the dark, I can see my sisters’ eyes twinkling at my adventure. I say nothing to suggest that my visit to Virginie is anything more than an innocent supper party for her and her special lady guests.
“Rachid will escort me home,” I say, waving them good-bye at the palace gates as Tindoui escorts my veiled sisters through the palace to the harem. On we go to Zamalek. I pull my veil down over my face as I step out of the carriage and, accompanied by Rachid, I mount the steps to the front door. Virginie opens the door herself. She smiles. She says she has been waiting for me. She is excited, she says. Did I enjoy the play? Would I care for refreshments in her sitting room?
I dismiss Rachid. Virginie tells him he can go to the kitchen. Her boy-servants are preparing a supper feast, and he is welcome to have whatever he likes.
I follow Virginie. We walk up the stairs together with arms linked. She unfurls my veil and looks into my eyes.
“He’s here,” she whispers. I nod, hardly able to speak.
“I know,” I reply.
“I will leave you alone for a time. No one will disturb you. As you know, my husband is away in Malta. My servants are under my supervision. They will not go to the second-floor sitting room.”
“Why are you doing this, Virginie?” I ask her, holding her hands in mine.
“I want you to be happy, Hezba,” she says, hugging me.
I wish she were my mother, my sister. I cannot imagine a kinder or better person than she. She knows that al-Shezira is on his way from Minya to get me. She knows that I hate him. She knows too that I dream of being allowed to divorce him, but she knows this will never be allowed. Still, despite this knowledge, she does not judge me. She wants me to be happy. She leads me to the door of the sitting room, pushes it open, and nudges me in with a little laugh. Alexandre is standing by the divan. He is smiling. He says nothing. I stand with my back to the door and unravel my veil, then remove it entirely. For what seems like an eternity, we stand at opposite ends of the room, staring at each other. I step forward with my heart in my mouth and clear my throat.
“Monsieur Alexandre,” I say.
He puts his finger to his mouth and comes to me, enfolding me in his arms.
“We don’t have long, Hezba,” he whispers.
I bury my face in his neck, wrap my arms around his neck, and inhale his scent. I feel warm and protected. Then I look up at him and say, “Is it all arranged?”
He nods and looks into my eyes. “We’re meeting next week at Kerdassa. You must come. Do anything you can to come. I am going todiscuss the whole operation with my men, the Rebel Corps. But we need the money you promised us. Can you bring it with you?”
I assure him that I will have it. I have been amassing my allowance for a long time, and it has turned into a small fortune, which I keep locked in a jewelled box in my rooms. Alexandre needs it more than I do. He asks me to sit with him on the divan. Then he gently folds me in his arms once more and reaches for my mouth with his own. I tremble inside. I stare into his dark eyes, and I see the love he feels for me shining there. He holds my chin as he kisses me. Then he pulls me closer. Lying back, I let him press his body onto mine. He is gentle and loving. He does not force himself on me like al-Shezira used to. I feel his hands on my flesh and I shudder inside. I desire only to be with him, to feel the pressure of him inside me, to extinguish the entire world so that no one exists except for us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Littoni closed up
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