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cousin, prince Khaled, Id Al-Fitr (the “break-fast Id). The
two had been friends since their childhood. So, Khaled
proposed to Mansour – the name of our hero – to stay
with him at his palace for a while. It was spring and the
lemon and other citron trees which were heavy with fruit
that had not been plucked were blooming with flowers. It
had rained heavily before and the desert bloomed with a
colorful cover inviting people to rest before the advent of
the hot days.
The two youths spent all their time together watching
camel and horse races, participating therein and spending
whole days hunting and driving over the sand dunes (an
amusement that was not without hazards, which had
recently become quite popular with the young generation
of the royal family). Life seemed wonderful and the future
looked as though it would be better than the present.
One day at dawn, Mansour had a dream of a charming
blond girl walking in the orchard surrounded by three
gazelles and talking to them. When the princess saw him
she smiled and extended her hand to him. The dream was
quite tangible as when he awoke suddenly, he could still
feel the touches of her warm fingers. He did not open his
eyes right away as he wanted the dream to last longer.
I should mention that Mansour’s parents and aunt had
been trying to persuade him to get married and proposed
to him various candidates, but in vain. Khaled was aware
of such attempts, but did not join in the persuasion. In
the morning, when Man-sour saw his cousin and told him
of the dream while he was still agitated, Khaled did not
hesitate to propose to him to travel to Lebanon to look for
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the blond because the Lebanese are known in the Arab
world to have light hair.
The two arrived in Beirut, disguised, in order to give a
romantic touch to their trip. They stayed at a small hotel
and found a distant relative who was much older than them
and who had been working in Lebanon for a few years.
This relative of theirs was always welcome in Lebanese
houses and knew where beautiful girls were to be found.
At the time, it was not easy, even in Lebanon, to become
acquainted with a girl from a good family. So they used to
invent ways and means for acquaintance in each particular
case. Their relative would introduce his cousins to the
head of the family as businessmen. As is well known, it
is difficult to find a Lebanese who did not practice this
kind of activity or did not like to practice it. All that
remained was to practice the art of making acquaintances.
As a result, within two weeks, they succeeded in seeing
a large number of charming beautiful girls. But none of
them appealed to Mansour, as the dream girl was all the
time alive in his memory. After a while, the two decided
to go back to the Kingdom, considering the trip a kind
of amusement. On the last day before their departure, they
were invited to a horse-farm by a rich Lebanese. The two
cousins loved horses and knew a lot about them. Therefore,
they readily accepted the invitation.
The morning was rather cool and it had rained a little
before. The edge of the sun protruded over the round tops
of the wrinkled plateaus and the leaves of the cedar trees
were shining with the sun’s jovial rays. The two sat on a
special kind of rug that was stretched specially for them,
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on which silver plates full of oriental sweets were put on
a snow-white cover. There were also receptacles full of
fruit, dates, cheese and loaves of hot bread in a round tray,
together with the coffee pot in which fresh, fragrant coffee
had been prepared. Black servants were preparing the
ground where the horses would appear. The host wanted
to please the two guests whom he intuitively felt were no
ordinary Saudi citizens.
Finally, the stable door was opened and five pedigree
Arabian horses rushed into the track. On one of them there
was a beautiful and graceful young girl with blond hair.
The two did not notice her at first. But when they did,
Mansour pressed Khaled’s hand, and Khaled immediately
got the message.
Thereafter, the wedding took place. Arriving in Beirut
on that night, was a large number of relatives, and the
fourteenyear-old girl took the presents like a spoiled child.
She admired the shining jewelry, the exquisite, expensive
clothes,s well as her bridegroom who realized all her
aspirations. They spent their honeymoon in Germany.
Laila – that was the girl’s name – had never been abroad
and jumped like a gazelle in the old streets of the German
cities and climbed the rocky statutes with which the
fountains were decorated, all the time rejoicing and
laughing merrily. The newly married bridegroom looked
gently at this wonderful creature and his heart was filled
with tenderness.
The month was over and the couple returned to Riyadh.
Life went on as usual. The girl began to feel homesick and
wanted to see her father and mother, to hug her brothers
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and play with her sisters. Thus she stopped laughing and
the beautiful things and even the toys no longer interested
her. One day she wept bitterly to the point that Mansour
felt pity for her, upon which he went to Beirut and brought
all her relatives along to the Kingdom, even the brothers
and sisters of her grandfather and grandmother. Laila gave
birth to six healthy children: three girls and three boys,
who were grown ups when we made her acquaintance.
Now you know that the mysterious blond was Laila,
who had one day invaded the heart of the young Mansour.
I was struck by this story, may be because it is actually
similar to an original story I wanted to narrate to you. In
any case, I am sure that the life of any human being, no
matter how simple he or she may be, is unique and can
evoke real interest.
Two weeks after having made acquaintance, Laila
invited me to visit her. Frankly speaking, I went there
feeling somewhat afraid that something unusual would
happen. I had been told that she had lost her husband
seven years before and that she was living with the family
of one of her sons (according to Saudi law a woman is
not allowed to live alone even if she owned several
houses). I was acquainted with her beautiful daughters;
the eldest seemed to me to be her mother’s age. I got to
know her nineteen grandchildren and the close friends of
this house which was full of warmth. But what struck me
most when I entered the reception hall was a large photo
of Prince Mansour that filled a whole wall, overwhelming
everything else in the hall. Thus wherever one sat, one
saw the photo as though Mansour was somehow living
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