Women secured their chadors over bitter mouths, yanked their children away, and fled the scene of shameless beauty, blinding glitter, and brazen gestures. They questioned the morality of a world where a whore dared not only bare her face, but also stir envy in chaste wives.

Men crowded around Rebekah to stare at her violet eyes, the shade of dusks, full, sensuous lips, and hair the color of daffodils.

“Today,” Rebekah sang out to the wild jingle of her multibangled wrists, “I shall reveal a secret I’ve guarded for years.” Then, to their amazement, she cupped her mouth with her hands, as if to keep her words from the ears of the Almighty. “Eleven years ago, I returned from death because I couldn’t bear the grief of deserting my daughter. What a boring way to depart, sweetloves. Next time, I will decide when to die, and it will not be at the hand of the Devil.”

“Tell them the story,” Gold Dust whispered, tossing back her almond-brown hair, which swayed against her cheeks, and raising amber eyes that had a slight twist. She, too, wanted to learn the story of the Devil. In the privacy of her home, she no longer dared ask the question she had been grappling with all of her young life.

Rebekah stroked the donkey’s neck. “Patience, child. Mysteries have a revealing season of their own. I’ll say more when you are older.”

Then, with an elaborate flourish of her arm, she announced, “I shall go down in history as the first woman who dared defeat the Devil.”

Her words sent another shock through the crowd of men who had lingered behind. Their stares followed her as she steered Venus toward the labyrinth of alleys that led to the house of the wealthy merchant.

With their layers of lace, glittering veils, and glass-studded skirts, their legs flanking the donkey, the woman and child had a liveliness about them that mocked the somber alleys and the sadness in Rebekah’s heart.

Mosquitoes buzzed around, and winged cockroaches were crushed under the donkey’s hooves. Beggars followed Venus. Afflicted with kachali, the boys had lost their hair, and their bare skulls festered with a crust of dried blood and pus. Those who had a few lice-infested strands left scratched their heads as they implored alms. This was not the inviting bazaar Rebekah remembered when she had visited with her mother. Today the call of the vendors sounded sad, the smells carried the odor of decay. Rebekah tossed out two silver coins and swore to do all in her power to save Gold Dust from a future where human sweat and the hacking coughs of consumption were the only tools to arouse pity so as to gain a few dinars to support a large family.

Thankful for this mission that distanced her temporarily from her home, a gravesite of memories, Rebekah chanted to her daughter, “I’ll teach you how to become a woman and how to elaborate on your music when a man is present, so you’ll charm him forever.”