A few days later I met Mistress Rose al-Hani for the first time, in a humble house surrounded by flowers and trees. She had heard my name while she was in the house of Rasheed Bey Nu’man, that man whose heart she had trampled and left for dead. When I saw her bright eyes and heard the song of her gentle voice, I said within myself, “Could this woman be capable of evil? Could such a transparent face mask a vile soul or the heart of a criminal? Is this the unfaithful woman? Is this the woman whom I have damned in my thought many times as a deadly viper concealed within the body of a graceful bird?” But on further thought I whispered to myself, “What else, then, besides this lovely face could have made that man so wretched? Have we not heard and seen that often superficial beauty has been the cause of hidden and dreadful afflictions, of deep and painful sorrows? Is not the moon, whose rays shine on limpid waters for the poets, that same moon that causes the ebb and flow of the tides troubling the seas?”

When I sat down, Mistress Rose sat with me, seeming to hear my thoughts and not wanting to prolong the struggle between my bewilderment and my doubts. Leaning her lovely head on her white hand, she spoke in a voice like the gentle reed flute, “I have not met you before, sir. But I have heard the echo of your thoughts and dreams in the mouths of men, so I know that you are sympathetic to the wronged woman, that you are merciful in her weakness, that you understand her emotions and desires. For that reason, I want to open my heart to you and show you what I have concealed within me, so that you will know the pain in my heart and will, if you desire, tell the people that Rose al-Hani is not a wicked and unfaithful woman.

“When I was eighteen, fate led me to Rasheed Bey Nu’man. At that time he was nearly forty. He fell in love with me and treated me honorably, as people say. He made me his wife and the mistress of his splendid house and its many servants. He dressed me in silk and adorned my head and neck and wrists with jewelry and precious stones. He displayed me in the houses of his friends and acquaintances like some fine gift. He smiled with pride and triumph whenever his peers stared at me with envious pleasure. He raised his head proudly whenever he heard his friends’ wives praise me or mention me with affection. But he did not hear the one who asked, ‘Is this the wife of Rasheed Bey or his ward whom he has adopted?’ And another said, ‘If Rasheed Bey had married when he was young, his daughter would be older than Rose al-Hani.’