Eve... our ancient mother, come to my help. What beautiful legs made of marble. How lovely your body of crystal.

            In the beginning she didn't pay any attention to him. Then she turned out of curiosity. He was as emaciated as a hungry wolf, his teeth bared; he was thin and medium-built; he was like a mangy dog in the dark.

            She had been waiting for an hour, the long hand of her watch was creeping toward 10, it still wasn't 10 o'clock. She remembered the struggle that was still going on between the Nasr Company and the local newspapers. She thought that the press had really exaggerated in their depiction of the company's ineptitude - but now - after being subjected to the tardiness of the small bus - she realised the truth of their criticism. And furthermore, here she was having to bear the common flirtations of street wolves prowling through the night.

            Cars raced past her, the drivers of them blinking their lights, braking, then stinging her with their glances - their eyes gleaming like flame, stabbing at her like needles, prickling her skin, seeking her nakedness - while for the sake of Eve. .. he tried again with mad persistence.

            'No use waiting... the bus won't come, three buses are out of order, and the rest stop running after nine o'clock. I've been standing at the August 9th Square station for so long now.'

            She didn't turn, didn't utter a sound, didn't act concerned. She built a solid wall of silence.

            'I have a friend who lives nearby. We'll go there and he'll give you a lift - he's got a car.'

            Idiot. Dope. Stupid. She had heard these reprisals a thousand times, she had repeated them scornfully along with her friends ¬most likely it must have been a million times. Anecdotes were made of them in the caricatures found on the last page of the newspaper. She glanced on the last page of the newspaper. She glanced at her wristwatch ... 10 o'clock. Cats were crossing the street, climbing the garbage cans, prowling around them, urinating on the pavement. The green and red of the traffic lights stopped their alternate exchange and were replaced with the yellow, flicking on and off in the darkness, as if somebody were winking at her. The night was calm and still except for the occasional barking of dogs straying amidst the alleys of the old city.

            Waiting was useless. She turned and started to cross Omar al¬Mukhtar Street. She strained her ears. The stranger didn't follow her.

            Just before Bank di Roma she heard their whispers, the beginning of a whisper, suggesting the plotting of a conspiracy. Their feet moved in the same direction, then quickened in pace, then they began running. They bolted toward her like some legendary animal who had gone hungry for a million years and was now stalking a prey who had suddenly fallen down from the sky. They surged forward, came nearer and nearer. She turned in high-pitched horror, but she only saw pitch-black darkness. She set off running... running ... she gasped for air... she ran until her legs became numb ... as solid as rocks. Her handbag flipped open, her cosmetics tumbled to the ground as well as her money purse and a report (called 'Steps toward the liberation of the Libyan woman') which she had prepared for a sociology lecture - everything fell out unti.l her handbag was empty. But she just kept on running and didn't stop until she found herself in the perfumeries shop.

            She flung herself violently over the wooden bench, gasping for breath, her heart contracting as if she had just travelled some incredible distance in the blink of an eye, as quickly as Suleiman's magic genie. She opened her eyes and saw him standing over her, staring at her with a mixture of surprise and artificial compassion, while she realised what had happened. He didn't speak immediately, he understood her predicament and brought her a glass of water. She saw the prayer beads in his hand, and thanked God that there were still some decent people around, that there were still decent folk on this earth. She mumbled something incomprehensible, even to herself. She took the glass of water and took a sip; then she sighed a couple of times and said,
            'I am sorry, sir, they were chasing me.'

            He stood staring at her stupidly without saying a word, while anger grew inside her at the dullness of his reaction. She repeated, as if she were making a plea to be rescued from legendary beasts: 'They were chasing me, really they were, and I'm afraid.'

            He twirled his prayer beads in the air and spoke for the first time: 'Who was chasing you?'
            'I don't know who, but they were hiding behind the store in the dark, waiting to ambush me ... help me!'

            He went towards the door and looked to right and left and returned while she was standing up:
            'Well... I didn't see anyone.'
            'But I heard them from here whispering to one another.'
            'You must be tired. Sit down, my child ... You're imagining things. '
            She was overcome by violent anger:
            'I'm not imagining things. They chased me to the door and hid themselves behind the store next door.'

            She moved towards the door. He followed, she paused and      pointed to the darkness.
            'They were whispering to one another, conspiring in the night!'
            'My dear, I didn't see anything at all. You were seeing illusions.
            Sit down. .. rest a bit.'
            She screamed:
            'You're blind, I wasn't hallucinating. They chased after me up to here. They were guarding the wall waiting for me. I saw them with my own eyes.'

            Astonishment and anger flared in his eyes. She collapsed over the chair and began to shiver. Soon tears started to stream down her face, and she apologised meekly:

            'I'm very sorry, I didn't mean ...'
            'It doesn't matter, don't worry. Rest a while. Don't be afraid, I'm right here beside you... would you like some coffee or tea?'
            'No, thank you.'

            Silence reigned for a few moments before he enquired in a meaningful tone:
            'Was it really necessary for you to go out by yourself at this time of night?'
            'It wasn't late. The bus was late. I left my aunt's house at 9 o'clock.'

            He fingered his beads. Through his to-so-dark glasses he stole glances which scrutinised every inch of her body from top to bottom . .. for the first time she noticed that he wore glasses, he must be blind... he brought forward a wooden chair and sat opposite her. Until that moment she hadn't felt secure or sensitive toward him, had hoped that she would be able to treat him as a father figure.

            'You can stay here until morning... there's a room inside.' He cleared his throat while noticing the doubt and disapproval in her eyes. He decided to dispel them by saying in his kindest and most innocent tone:
            'I'll sleep here in the store on a mat.'
            She trembled, resisting like a bird in a cage.
            'No, no ... I really must go, my husband's expecting me.'

            He said, while his eyes fell despairingly on the wedding finger: 'As you like... whatever is best for you.'

            He continued to encircle her in his glances, in loathsome lingering looks... for the sake of Eve, as if he were waiting for her to excuse herself and go away as long as she refuses his proposition. He was throwing her out... threatening her with his glances; she must face the dogs who are waiting behind the wall to ambush her.         She said to him, pleading:
            'Please call the police for me. I'm afraid to go out alone.'

            He continued to besiege her - to consume her. The bird that fell from the sky was just about to fly from the cage, to escape forever.

             He said after hesitating:
            'All right.'
            He began dialling.

            The car braked and a police officer with the rank of second sergeant stepped out... he went toward the store's entrance. He stood on the threshold. The hard-line features of his face softened and bore the beginning traces of an amiable smile. He entered, . grabbed a chair and sat down without a word of protocol, as if it were his shop and he could act as he pleased. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering one to her a gesture preceded by the ready-made smile which became immediately a choked laugh. She was quick to deny the accusation of a cigarette, as if she were denying herself (or another self) implicated in the action of smoking. As if she were fleeing from spider webs which were  beginning to strangle her.

            'No. ..no, thank you. I can't stand cigarettes.'
            He withdrew his smile as he drew back the offered pack of cigarettes. He pulled out a cigarette for himself, ignoring the shop¬owner completely. He puffed out the smoke in little rings and looked   at her before asking:
            'Where do you live?' 'In Green Hill." 'OK. Let's go.'

            He rose, trying to cover his face in a veil of seriousness and decisiveness, but the air of complicity was obvious in his eyes, or so it seemed to her. She was suffocated now by an insurmountable terror of accompanying him; she was quick to discover that her body moved inside a snake skin or frog skin, it was sticky and she felt like vomiting.
            'No... please call me a taxi, that's a better idea.'

            The policeman exchanged looks with the shop-owner. The shop¬ owner shrugged his shoulders in denial of the accusation.
            'She is the one who wanted me to call the police. Ask her.'

            The officer shifted his eyes from one to the other, a dark anger storming his brow, and then said in a commanding tone:
            'Request a taxi for her.'

            A sleek car braked to a stop in front of the store. A heavy-set man got out. He was stout and had thick lips. The mere sight of him could only induce feelings of repulsion. She left the store and stepped quickly inside the taxi without saying a word to the shop¬owner. The officer instructed the taxi-driver:
            'Take her to Green Hill.' Then he winked.

            She
            After spending a two-month honeymoon in Paris, Ahmed said to her in a gently mocking tone:

            'How long are you going to continue challenging traditional customs by chasing behind the latest fashions and mixing with men, staying out late with your girlfriends and others as the European  women do?'

            She answered defiantly:
            'What is the difference between a European woman and me, at least intellectually speaking, if we have both read Kafka, Neruda, Nietzsche, Hemingway, and Sartre? I'm a serious woman, even if 1 like fashion and soirees and you know that.'

            'I didn't mean to demean your behaviour or your earnestness, but the societies differ. That's where the tragedy lies - that our society is not like European societies.'

            Only a week before a colleague of hers, Abbas al-Misrati, told her during a heated discussion about the Libyan woman:

            'I am not content with the liberation of the woman if it is not radical, for liberation in a backward feudal society like ours is only a false liberation, one which is not genuine... your problem is that you are stubborn ... they shall make you pay the price for that!'

            At Bab Ben Ghasir, the car swerved left in a wild turn and rushed ahead along a road lined by tall thickly-branched trees. She screamed out because she was so startled, and then, muffled herself as if she had submitted.

            Then she gathered all her strength and shouted:
             'Stop! 1 said slow down.'
            He appeared to take notice of her severely objective tone. He said without turning round:
            '1 know there's another way to al-Hadhba, but it's closed. I'm
            taking the detour I know.'
            He started speeding up again, but she said:
            'Stop... I'm getting out.'
            He pushed the pedal down further.
            'Stop ... 1 want to get out.'
            The maddening velocity of the car increased.
            'Stop... Are you deaf?'
            The car raced with the wind... it new in the air.
            'Stop - you're crazy.'
            She grabbed his neck.

            She ran... she ran until she could no longer breathe, but she kept on running. Even though her handbag dropped behind she kept on running.

            She and He
            The key was lost with her handbag... she knocked on the door
until he opened it, while still trying to open his sleepy eyes.
            'Why are you late?'
            'It's nothing ... the bus was late as usual.'
            He returned to lie down on the bed and closed his eyes.

            She
            However, Laila, for the first time in her life, couldn't sleep at all that night, she couldn't enjoy the respite of a night's sleep and her eyelids didn't droop until the morning... she just stared at the ceiling all night. She was sensitive to the fact that she had lost something for the first time... lost  something important... a legendary wall had crumbled and fell somewhere deep within her...