What I remember most about her are her eyes. Huge, dark, wide open, unblinking, they looked at me, her huge dark eyes looked into mine, and I looked b...ck at her, my whole body as immobile as she was, for the whole time that my father and I stayed with the Bey, or so it seems to me in my memory.Even then I understood that the Bey had made her a token not so much of his power, but of his spiritual sublimity, his elevation above the profanities of common human needs — he could afford, without. He wasn’t sure how to take it or what to say, fearing that one wrong word might break the spell. She unbuttoned his sleeveless flannel outer shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. “What is it with you and sleeveless shirts anyway?” she asked rhetorically. The truth was she had never minded his penchant for cutting off the sleeves because his well-muscled arms were kind of a turn on for her. It gave him a rugged look that made him all the more attractive in her eyes. “They just make me feel. More

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