Hitler had met with Franco a few days earlier at the French-Spanish border, but there was no indication that Spain would join in the war. New instructions were issued in France to exclude Jews from working in administrative and government posts, the press, cinema, or radio. Exceptions were made for those who had performed distinguished scientific services or who were decorated veterans of the previous world war.

In Alexandria, a train arrived from Suez carrying troops from South Africa who were said to be young Jews escaping the Nazi inferno. Those who survived, it was said, would go to Palestine after the war. They were welcomed in Alexandria at Sidi Gabir Station by the notables of the Jewish community, Sidnawi, Cicurel, Salvago and others. Young Jewish women showered them with flowers and blew kisses from their windows, and many Egyptians in the station greeted and applauded them. The train left for the desert in the evening, made no stops, and did not come across any workers until it arrived at Marsa Matruh two days later, when it dropped off the soldiers and brought back a batch of Australian soldiers for rest and recreation. A car was set aside for Italian prisoners of war, including a number of Libyans who were released later in Alexandria after it was established that they had been forced to serve with the Italian forces, and after they said that they were looking forward to the Allies entering Libya to rid them of Graziani, representative of the crazy Duce.

In Alexandria the fame of the new dancer Lula spread like wildfire. She danced to the Greek tunes of her doting accordion-playing husband, who never took his eyes off her. A drummer, who also sang, mainly to point out how curvaceous she was, accompanied her. She now only danced for the pashas at their mansions. A war had been raging over her among the dancing and singing women. She had previously been working with Usta Naima al-Saghir in Bahari and Sayyala, but she had disappeared with her lover until she was found by her husband, who had left the troupe and joined that of Bata al-Salamuni, whose turf extended from Karmuz to Kom al-Shuqafa and Qabbari. Usta Suma al-Nagili from Farahda and Labban entered the fray, as did Usta Fawziya al-Massiri, Naima’s archrival in Bahari. But the impresarios, who were out of work because of the ban on public nighttime celebrations and whose only job was to organize parties for the pashas, arranged a meeting among the Ustas and stopped the war. “The world war is enough,” they said. Bata al-Salamuni paid twenty pounds in reparation to Naima al-Saghir and the rest of the troupes agreed that Lula would dance for them once a month at any place they chose. The same terms were made available to the men’s troupes: Hamama al-Attar from Bahari, Said al-Hadrawi from Hadra, Anwar Salama from Karmuz, and Sayyid al-Halawani from Bacos. Thus Lula became a boon to the dancing and singing troupes in Alexandria. The only thing left for her to do was to dance at the Atheneos or Windsor or other such corniche nightclubs, which were always full of soldiers and ATS women.

The story of Lula reached Sitt Maryam and Zahra, who were surprised at the wiles of women and also of men, for Lula’s husband, who had seemed so jealous the day she was arrested, was now the very one accompanying her as she danced in the mansions. They had forgotten all about her, until the day they went out to the piazza in Karmuz. In the midst of the fishmongers and greengrocers and the stifling smells of the market, Sitt Maryam and Zahra saw a taxicab parked at the entrance of Sultan Husayn Street and a woman signaling to them from inside the taxi. They looked at each other in hesitation as they heard her voice, “Sitt Umm Camilla, Sitt Umm Yvonne.” It was unmistakably Lula’s voice. They went toward the taxi after looking around. What made them respond to her call in spite of their fear of being seen?

“Come on in. Don’t be afraid.”

She was sitting in the back seat and they sat next to her.

“Drive on,” she said.

“Where to?”

“Home.”

“The house is right there.”

“Drive to the door, buster. These are respectable women — do you want them to be seen in public with me?”

The driver fell silent, as did everyone. Zahra crept closer to Sitt Maryam and clung to her.

Sitt Maryam regretted getting into the taxi. Zahra must have gotten in because of her. “Here we are,” said the driver, as he entered a side alley and stopped.

They got out. Lula looked at him and laughed as Sitt Maryam smiled, but Zahra looked frightened. They heard the driver say, “Sitt Lula, are we not respectable folk, too?”

“Get a move on, you son of a club-footed woman,” Lula shouted, and the driver drove away laughing.

“Please pardon me, I would like to invite you to a cup of coffee at my place to see my apartment. Please, Sitt Maryam, Sitt Zahra. Sure, I may be bad, but I’m married. I’d even say I am good.”

As if hypnotized, they went in with her through the dark entrance of the house. They went up the stairs to the first floor, hardly able to see in the dark. Lula placed the key into the keyhole of the wooden door and opened it, then went ahead to open the windows, through which a little light entered, just enough to see one another and talk. Sitt Maryam and Zahra sat on the first two chairs they came across in the living room. Lula came back after a little while with a small spirit stove, a coffeepot, three cups, and a pitcher of water and sat in front of them on the floor. Lula looked prettier than she had in Dimitri’s house. “It feels like I kidnapped you from the street, right?”

Zahra did not answer, and Sitt Maryam told herself that silence was better.

“How are Sheikh Magd al-Din and Khawaga Dimitri?” asked Lula. “I used to hear Sheikh Magd’s voice as he recited the Quran at night — his voice went through the walls and came to me, a beautiful and soothing voice. Two days before my husband found me, I had intended to repent and go back to him because of Sheikh Magd al-Din’s voice, even though I didn’t understand anything from the Quran, but every time he said, ‘Which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?’ I would cry — really cry.”

Zahra said to herself, “I ask God Almighty for forgiveness.” She felt that it was not proper for the word of God ever to be uttered by that woman. They sat for a long time as Lula told them about the fight over her by the women’s troupes and how it was settled by the men: “The men can handle anything; you get nothing from women except lies and deceit.” She told them about the nights of the pashas, which rivaled those described in One Thousand and One Nights.

“Like who, Lula? Of course Abbud Pasha was one of them,” asked Sitt Maryam.

“All of them — Abbud, Farghali, Spahi, and Tawil. I once danced at Tawil Pasha’s mansion in the presence of Nahhas Pasha himself. Yes, he had just had an abscess removed and had come to Alexandria to recuperate. But, to tell you the truth, he was always looking at the floor. Maybe once or twice he raised his eyes to me. I felt he was afraid of me, not of the other political parties. How many parties are there in Egypt, anyway? At any rate, all pashas are generous, even Salvatorc Cicurel and Salvago, who own the streetcar lines. He bought me a streetcar.”

They all laughed for the first time. Caution and regret were now gone.

“The only one left is His Majesty the King,” Lula went on. “I danced for the princes. He’s the only one left. If I danced for him I’d work in films with Abd al-Wahhab and go to Cairo, and leave behind Alexandria and all these air raids. There’s hope next summer I’ll dance at Muntaza. The war would surely be over by then — it must! I’ve asked Sitt Didi, who lives here on Sultan Street. She’s the best designer of dance outfits. I told her to cut an outfit for me, open on all sides, from behind, front, and at the waist and along with the spangles and the beads and the rhinestones, to add some genuine diamonds. You know, Sitt Maryam, sometimes I miss you all very much.”