One day in the late part of June, as the people left the city for the mountain to
avoid the heat of summer, I went as usual to the temple to meet Selma, carrying
with me a little book of Andalusian poems. As I reached the temple I sat there
waiting for Selma, glancing at intervals at the pages of my book, reciting those
verses which filled my heart with ecstasy and brought to my soul the memory of
the kings, poets, and knights who bade farewell to Granada, and left, with tears in
their eyes and sorrow in their hearts, their palaces, institutions and hopes behind.
In an hour I saw Selma walking in the midst of the gardens and I approaching the
temple, leaning on her parasol as if she were carrying all the worries of the world
upon her shoulders. As she entered the temple and sat by me, I noticed some sort
of change in her eyes and I was anxious to inquire about it.
elma felt what was going on in my mind, and she put her hand on my head
and said, "Come close to me, come my beloved, come and let me quench my
thirst, for the hour of separation has come."
 asked her, "Did your husband find out about our meeting her?" She
reponded, "My husband does not care about me, neither does he know how I
spend my time, for he is busy with those poor girls whom poverty has driven into
the houses of ill fame; those girls who sell their bodies for bread, kneaded with
blood and tears."
 inquired, "What prevents you from coming to this temple and sitting by me
reverently before God? Is your soul requesting our separation.?"
he answered with tears in her eyes, "No, my beloved, my spirit did not ask
for separation, for you are a part of me. My eyes never get tired of looking at you,
for you are their light; but if destiny ruled that I should walk the rough path of life
loaded with shackles, would I be satisfied if your fate should be like mine?" Then
she added, "I cannot say everything, because the tongue is mute with pain and
cannot talk; the lips are sealed with misery and cannot move; all I can say to you is
that I am afraid you may fall in the same trap I fell in."
hen i asked, "What do you mean, Selma, and of whom are you afraid?" She
covered her face with her hands and said, "The Bishop has already found out that
once a month I have been leaving the grave which he buried me in."
 inquired, "Did the Bishop find out about our mettings here?" She answered,
"If he did, you would not see me here sitting by you, but he is getting suspicious
and he informed all his servants and guards to watch me closely. I am feeling that
the house I live in and the path I walk on are all eyes watching me, and fingers
pointing at me, and ears listening to the whipser of my thoughts."
he was silent for a while, and then she added, with tears pouring down her
cheeks, "I am not afraid of the Bishop, for wetness does not scare the drowned,
but I am afraid you might fall into the trap and become his prey; you are still
young and free as the sunlight. I am not frightened of fate which has shot all its
arrows in my breast, but I am afraid the serpent might bite your feet and detain
you from climbing the mountain peak where the future awaits you with its pleasure
and glory."
 said, "He who has not been bitten by the serpents of light and snapped at by
the wolves of darkness will always be deceived by the days and nights. But listen,
Selma, listen carefully; is separation the only means of avoiding people's evils and
meanness? Has the path of love and freedom been closed and is nothing left
except submission to the will of the slaves of death?"
he responded, "Nothing is left save separation and bidding each other
farewell."
ith rebellious spirit I took her hand and said excitedly, "We have yielded to
the people's will for a long time; since the time we met until this hour we have been
led by the blind and have worshipped with them before their idols. Since the time I
met you we have been in the hands of the Bishop like two balls which he has
thrown around as he pleased. Are we going to submit to his will until death takes
us away? Did God give us the breath of life to place it under death's feet? Did He
give us liberty to make it a shadow of slavery? He who extinguishes his spirit's fire
with his own hands is an infidel in the eyes of Heaven, for Heaven set the fire that
burns in our spirits. He who does not rebel against oppression is doing himself
injustice. I love you, Selma, and you love me, too; and Love is a precious
treasure, it is God's gift to sensitive and great spirits. Shall we throw this treasure
away and let the pigs scatter it and trample on it? This world is full of wonder and
beauty. Why are we living in this narrow tunnel which the Bishop and his
assistants have dug out for us? Life is full of happiness and freedom; why don't
we take this heavy yoke off our shoulders and break the chains tied to our feet,
and walk freely toward peace? Get up and let us leave this small temple for God's
great temple. Let us leave this country and all its slavery and ignorance for another
country far away and unreached by the hands of the thieves. Let us go to the coast
under the cover of night and catch a boat that will take us across the oceans,
where we can find a new life full of happiness and understanding. Do not hesitate,
Selma for these minutes are more precious to us than the crowns of kings and
more sublime than the thrones of angels. Let us follow the column of light that
leads us from this arid desert into the green fields where flowers and aromatic
plants grow."
he shook her head and gazed at something invisible on the ceiling of the
temple; a sorrowful smile appeared on her lips; then she said, "No, no my
beloved. Heaven placed in my hand a cup, full of vinegar and gall; I forced myself
to drink it in order to know the full bitterness at the bottom until nothing was left
save a few drops, which I shall drink patiently. I am not worthy of a new life of
love and peace; I am not strong enough for life's pleasure and sweetness, because
a bird with broken wings cannot fly in the spacious sky. The eyes that are
accustomed to the dim light of a candle are not stong enough to stare at the sun.
Do not talk to me of happiness; its memory makes me suffer. Mention not peace
to me; its shadow frightens me; but look at me and I will show you the holy torch
which Heaven has lighted in the ashes of my heart -- you know that I love you as a
mother loves her only child, and Love only taught me to protect you even from
myself. It is Love, purified with fire, that stops me from following you to the
farthest land. Love kills my desires so that you may live freely and virtuously.
Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for
itself. Love that comes between the naivete and awakening of youth satisfies itself
with possessing, and grows with embraces. But Love which is born in the
firmament's lap and has descended with the night's secrets is not contended with
anything but Eternity and immortality; it does not stand reverently before anything
except deity.
hen I knew that the Bishop wanted to stop me from leaving his nephew's
house and to take my only pleasure away from me, I stood before the window of
my room and looked toward the sea, thinking of the vast countries beyond it and
the real freedom and personal independence which can be found there. I felt that I
was living close to you, surrounded by the shadow of your spirit, submerged in
the ocean of your affection. But all these thoughts which illuminate a woman's
heart and make her rebel against old customs and live in the shadow of freedom
and justice, made me believe that I am weak and that our love is limited and feeble,
unable to stand before the sun's face. I cried like a king whose kingdom and
treasure have been usurped, but immediately I saw your face through my tears and
your eyes gazing at me and I remembered what you said to me once (Come,
Selma, come and let us be strong towers before the tempest. Let us stand like
brave soldiers before the enemy and face his weapons. If we are killed, we shall
die as martyrs; and if we win, we shall live as heroes. Braving obstacles and
hardships is nobler than retreat to tranquility.) These words, my beloved, you
uttered when the wings of death were hovering around my father's bed; I
remembered them yesterday when the wings of despair were hovering above my
head. I strengthened myself and felt, while in the darkness of my prison, some sort
of precious freedom easing our difficulties and diminshing our sorrows. I found
out that our love was as deep as the ocean and as high as the stars and as
spacious as the sky. I came here to see you, and in my weak spirit there is a new
strength, and this strength is the ability to sacrifice a great thing in order to obtain a
greater one; it is the sacrifice of my happiness so that you may remain virtuous
and honroable in the eyes of the people and be far away from their treachery and
persecution.
n the past, when I came to this place I felt as if heavy chains were pulling
down on me, but today I came here with a new determiantion that laughs at the
shackles and shortens the way. I used to come to this temple like a scared
phantom, but today I came like a brave woman who feels the urgency of sacrifice
and knows the value of suffering, a woman who likes to protect the one she loves
from the ignorant people and from her hungry spirit. I used to sit by you like a
trembling shadow, but today I came here to show you my true self before Ishtar
and Christ.
 am a tree, grown in the shade, and today I stretched my branches to tremble
for a while in the daylight. I came here to tell you good-bye, my beloved, and it is
my hope that our farewell will be great and awful like our love. Let our farewell be
like fire that bends the gold and makes it more resplendent."
elma did not allow me to speak or protest, but she looked at me, her eyes
glittering, her face retaining its dignity, seeming like an angel worthy of silence and
respect. Then she flung herself upon me, something which she had never done
before, and put her smooth arms around me and printed a long, deep, fiery kiss on
my lips.
s the sun went down, withdrawing its rays from those gardens and orchards,
Selma moved to the middle of the temple and gazed along at its walls and corners
as if she wanted to pour the light of her eyes on its pictures and symbols. Then
she walked forward and reverently knelt before the picture of Christ and kissed
His feet, and she whispered, "Oh, Christ, I have chosen Thy Cross and deserted
Ishtar's world of pleasure and happiness; I have worn the wreath of thorns and
discarded the wreath of laurel and washed myself with blood and tears instead of
perfume and scent; I have drunk vinegar and gall from a cup which was meant for
wine and nectar; accept me, my Lord, among Thy followers and lead me toward
Galilee with those who have chosen Thee, contended with their sufferings and
delighted with their sorrows."
hen she rose and looked at me and said, "Now I shall return happily to my
dark cave, where horrible ghosts reside, Do not sympathize with me, my beloved,
and do not feel sorry for me, because the soul that sees the shadow of God once
will never be frightened, thereafter, of the ghosts of devils. And the eye that looks
on heaven once will not be closed by the pains of the world."
ttering these words, Selma left the place of worship; and I remained there lost
in a deep sea of thoughts, absorbed in the world of revelation where God sits on
the throne and the angels write down the acts of human beings, and the souls
recite the tragedy of life, and the brides of Hevean sing the hymns of love, sorrow
and immortality.
ight had already come when I awakened from my swoon and found
myself bewildered in the midst of the gardens, repeating the echo of every word
uttered by Selma and remembering her silence, ,her actions, her movements, her
expression and the touch of her hands, until I realized the meaning of farewell and
the pain of lonesomeness. i was depressed and heart-broken. It was my first
discovery of the fact that men, even if they are born free, will remain slaves of
strict laws enacted by their forefathers; and that the firmament, which we imagine
as unchanging, is the yielding of today to the will of tomorrow and submission of
yesterday to the will of today -- Many a time, since the night, I have thought of the
spiritual law which made Selma prefer death to life, and many a time I have made a
comparison between nobility of sacrifice and happiness of rebellion to find out
which one is nobler and more beautiful; but until now I have distilled only one
truth out of the whole matter, and this truth is sincerity, which makes all our deeds
beautiful and honorable. And this sincerity was in Selma Karamy.

Five years of Selma's marriage passed without bringing children to stengthen
the ties of spiritual relation between her and her husband and bind their repugnant
souls together.
 barren woman is looked upon with disdain everywhere because of most
men's desire to perpetuate themselves through posterity.
he substantial man considers his childless wife as an enemy; he detests her
and deserts her and wishes her death. Mansour Bey Galib was that kind of man;
materially, he was like earth, and hard like steel and greedy like a grave. His desire
of having a child to carry on his name and reputation made him hate Selma in spite
of her beauty and sweetness.
 tree grown in a cave does not bear fruit; and Selma, who lived in the shade of
life, did not bear children.....
he nightingale does not make his nest in a cage lest slavery be the lot of its
chicks.... Selma was a prisoner of misery and it was Heaven's will that she would
not have another prisoner to share her life. The flowers of the field are the children
of sun's affection and nature's love; and the children of men are the flowers of
love and compassion.....
he spirit of love and compassion never dominated Selma's beautiful home at
Ras Beyrouth; nevertheless, she knelt down on her knees every night before
Heaven and asked God for a child in whom she would find comfort and
consolation... She prayed successively until Heaven answered her prayers....
he tree of the cave blossomed to bear fruit at last. The nightingale in the cage
commenced making its nest with the feathers of its wings.
elma stretched her chained arms toward Heaven to receive God's precious
gift and nothing in the world could have made her happier than becoming a
potential mother.
he waited anxiously, counting the days and looking forward to the time
when Heaven's sweetest melody, the voice of her child, should ring in her ears....
he commenced to see the dawn of a brighter future through her tears.
t was the month of Nisan when Selma was streched on the bed of pain and
labor, where life and death were wrestling. The doctor and the midwife were ready
to deliver to the world a new guest. Late at night Selma started her successive
cry... a cry of life's partition from life... a cry of continuance in the firmament of
nothingness.. a cry of a weak force before the stillness of great forces... the cry of
poor Selma who was lying down in despair under the feet of life and death.
t dawn Selma gave birth to a baby boy. When she opened her eyes she saw
smiling faces all over the room, then she looked again and saw life and death still
wrestling by her bed. She closed her eyes and cried, saying for the first time, "Oh,
my son." The midwife wrapped the infant with silk swaddles and placed him by
his mother, but the doctor kept looking at Selma and sorrowfully shaking his head.
he voices of joy woke the neighbors, who rushed into the house to felicitate
the father upon the birth of his heir, but the doctor still gazed at Selma and her
infant and shook his head....
he servants hurried to spread the good news to mansour Bey, but the doctor
stared at Selma and her child with a disappointed look on his face.
s the sun came out, Selma took the infant to her breast; he opened his eyes
for the first time and looked at his mother; then he quiverd and close them for the
last time. The doctor took the child from Selma's arms and on his cheeks fell
tears; then he whispered to himself, "He is a departing guest."
he child passed away while the neighbors were celebrating with the father in
the big hall at the house and drinking to the health of their heir; and Selma looked
at the doctor, and pleaded, "Give me my child and let me embrace him."
hough the child was dead, the sounds of the drinking cups incresed in the
hall.....
e was born at dawn and died at sunrise...
e was born like a thought and died like a sigh and disappeared like a shadow.
e did not live to console and comfort his mother.
is life began at the end of the night and ended at the beginning of the day, like
a drop of few poured by the eyes of the dark and dried by the touch of the light.
 pearl brought by the tide to the coast and returned by the ebb into the depth
of the sea....
 lily that has just blossomed from the bud of life and is mashed under the feet
of death.
 dear guest whose appearance illuminated Selma's heart and whose departure
killed her soul.
his is the life of men, the life of nations, the life of suns, moons and stars.
nd Selma focused her eyes upon the doctor and cried, "Give me my child
and let me embrace him; give me my child and let me nurse him."
hen the doctor bent his head. His voice choked and he said, "Your child is
dead, Madame, be patient.
pon hearing her doctor's announcement, Selma uttered a terrible cry. Then
she was quiet for a moment and smiled happily. Her face brightened as if she had
discovered something, and quietly she said, "Give me my child; bring him close to
me and let me see him dead."
he doctor carried the dead child to Selma and placed him between her arms.
She embraced him, then turned her face toward the wall and addressed the dead
infant saying, "You have come to take me away my child; you have come to show
me the way that leads to the coast. Here I am my child; lead me and let us leave
this dark cave.
nd in a minute the sun's ray penetrated the window curtains and fell upon two
calm bodies lying on a bed, guarded by the profound dignity of silence and
shaded by the wings of death. The doctor left the room with tears in his eyes, and
as he reached the big hall the celebrations was converted into a funeral, but
Mansour Bey Galib never uttered a word or shed a tear. He remained standing
motionless like a statue, holding a drinking cup with his right hand.
* * * * * * * * * *
he second day Selma was shrouded with her white wedding dress and laid in
a coffin; the child's shroud was his swaddle; his coffin was his mother's arms; his
grave was her calm breast. Two corpses were carried in one coffin, and I walked
reveretnly with the crowd accompanying Selma and her infant to their resting
place.
rriving at the cemetery, Bishop Galib commenced chanting while the other
priests prayed, and on their gloomy faces appeared a veil of ignorance and
emptiness.
s the coffin went down, one of the bystanders whispered, "This is the first
time in my life I have seen two corpses in one coffin." Another one said, "It seems
as if the child had come to rescue his mother from her pitiless husband."
 third one said, "Look at Mansour Bey: he is gazing at the sky as if his eyes
were made of glass. He does not look like he has lost his wife and child in one
day." A fourth one added, "His uncle, the Bishop, will marry him again tomorrow
to a wealtheir and stonger woman.
he Bishop and the priests kept on singing and chanting until the grave digger
was through filing the ditch. Then, the people, individually, approached the Bishop
and his nephew and offered their repsects to them with sweet words of sympathy,
but I stood lonely aside without a soul to console me, as if Selma and her child
meant nothing to me.
he farewell-bidders left the cemetery; the grave digger stood by the new
grave hilding a shovel with his hand.
s I approached him, I inquired, "Do you remember where Farris Effandi
Karamy was buried?"
e looked at me for a moment, then pointed at Selma's grave and said, "Right
here; I placed his daughter upon him and upon his daughter's breast rests her
child, and upon all I put the earth back with this shovel."
hen I said, "In this ditch you have also buried my heart."
s the grave digger disappeared behind the poplar trees, I could not resist
anymore; I dropped down on Selma's grave and wept.