The Governor’s Guest
One evening, Nasrosoltan was invited to the governor’s mansion, known as the Qavam House, for dinner and entertainment in honor of the governor’s birthday. This mansion, situated at the edge of a vast well-manicured garden, housed thirty-two rooms on three stories and was magnificently decorated with tiled poems from Shiraz’s most notable poet, Hafez. The garden itself was adorned with an abundance of beautiful flowers, aromatic myrtles, and towering cypress trees, including several date palm trees bordering the ornamental pool.
Upon arrival at the Qavam estate, Nasrosoltan noticed a spacious tent erected in the center of the massive courtyard where the festivities were taking place. The tent floor was covered in colorful Persian carpets, and embroidered pillows decorated the large divans, where guests could lounge about. A band of choice musicians was performing, and a young boy with a magical voice sang some of the odes of Hafez, accompanied by the Persian spike fiddle, and in a chorus by the tambourines.
Many of Shiraz’s high society and several foreign dignitaries and friends of the governor were in attendance. Nasrosoltan pitied the foreign guests since, from their expressions, it seemed their ears may not have been tutored to the harmonies and delicacies of traditional Persian music.
Amongst the multitude, Nasrosoltan’s gaze became fixated on a beautiful woman. From her mannerisms, she seemed to possess a fiery energy that reminded him of the European women he was acquainted with when living in St. Petersburg.
Nasrosoltan noticed that she seemed to be holding her own in a conversation with several foreign men, and as he moved closer, he overheard her speaking in French. He thought to himself, Who is this alluring woman?
So, with much curiosity, Nasrosoltan turned to his friend, the commander of the garrison, and asked, “Who is that lady?”
The commander replied, “She is Shams-e-Zaman, a guest of my father who recently arrived from France.”
Nasrosoltan said, “She seems to be a captivating character, don’t you agree?”
The commander did not immediately respond to his question but instead stared back at Nasrosoltan like he was searching for the right words. “Perhaps, but now that you ask, I must say she has a certain way about her that can be annoying!”
Surprised at this blunt assessment of the lady in question, Nasrosoltan asked, “How so?”
The commander explained, “For instance, she likes to be addressed as madame instead of khanoom, as we say in our own beautiful Persian. So, to keep her contented, we call her Madame Shams-e-Zaman.” And with a roll of his eyes, he added, “Not only that, but with people she feels close to, she says she prefers to be called Madame Shamsi. What is more ridiculous is that she addresses the men as monsieur, as if she were still in Paris!”
He then offered, “I think she suffers from gharbzadegi”—a pejorative term meaning “Euro-mania.” “She thinks everything here is backward and everything in Europe is so much better. No doubt, she even wishes she were born a firangi” (the term by which all foreigners were distinguished).
Nasrosoltan, familiar with the commander’s character, was not too surprised by this comment. Even though they had been childhood friends, both had grown up with vastly different worldviews. Nasrosoltan, having lived in St. Petersburg during his formative years, welcomed progressive ideas, while the commander, on the other hand, possessed a narrower view of the world. He had never left the environs of Shiraz, except for having lived in Tehran for a short while during his early childhood. The commander was quite satisfied with the status quo and admired all things Persian, even the traditionally accepted roles for men and women.
Nasrosoltan sensed from his friend’s words that everything about Madame Shams-e-Zaman’s being, from her style of dress to the manner with which she spoke, ran counter to these local customs of etiquette that the commander believed women should uphold.
The commander’s comment about everything being better in Europe did strike a chord with Nasrosoltan. Even though he could have taken his friend’s utterance as an insult due to his own affinity toward things European, he was not offended. He decided the commander’s mindset about Madame Shams-e-Zaman had more to do with her being a woman rather than her being a Europhile.
Changing the subject back to what he was more interested in discussing, he pressed his friend further. “And is she married?”
“No, she is a widow. She had been married at a young age, from a not-so-glamorous family to my father’s close friend, who was appointed the ambassador to France. They lived in Paris for close to seven years until her husband’s untimely death. Since her return, she has been staying here at the mansion.”
Nasrosoltan then asked, “So how is it that she is staying with the governor?”
The commander replied, “Her husband has left her a great fortune in properties in Shiraz. When she returned to Persia, my father, out of respect for his late friend, requested that she spend her time as a guest at the mansion while arrangements are being made to settle her husband’s affairs.”
Then he added with a cunning smile, “Dear Nasrosoltan, as a musician yourself, you might find it of interest that she says she plays the piano and the violin. Of course, I have not had a chance to hear her perform, so she might just be bragging!”
Nasrosoltan did not know what to make of this frivolous comment, but this was more in line with the commander’s thoughts about women; that for a man, a woman’s purpose is to be pleasing to the eye and have a talent that delights his ear.
The commander then quickly suggested, “Why don’t we go over, and I will introduce you?”
Nasrosoltan agreed, and they both walked over to where she was in deep conversation with a group of gentlemen.
Her back was toward them, so to draw Madame Shams-e-Zaman’s attention, the commander interrupted their conversation by saying, “Pardon me, Madame Shamsi … ”
To Nasrosoltan’s surprise, she turned abruptly with a disagreeable face, as if she were startled when she realized who was addressing her. This alerted Nasrosoltan to a sense of animus toward his friend, realizing that their feelings of distaste for one another may be mutual.
However, when she fully turned around and noticed Nasrosoltan also in the commander’s company, her demeanor changed, and she quickly composed herself by displaying a pleasant smile for them both.
The commander continued, “I would like to introduce you to my friend that I had told you about, the composer Nasrosoltan Minbashian, son of the esteemed Salar Moazaz.”
They made acquaintances. After this brief introduction, where Madame Shams-e-Zaman greeted Nasrosoltan kindly, she started to turn back around to continue the conversation she was having with the other guests before being interrupted.
But Nasrosoltan wanted to continue talking with her, so he tried to think of something to say to keep her interest and blurted out, “Madame Shams-e-Zaman, I understand from the commander that you are a student of music, especially piano and violin.”
She turned back toward Nasrosoltan and said, “That is correct, Monsieur.”
Nasrosoltan took advantage of the opportunity and added, “The reason I mentioned it is that these two are also my favorite musical instruments; it is encouraging to see such a love of music.”
Then, to keep her from walking off, he hurriedly asked, “So tell me, if you had to choose, which of these two instruments would you say is your favorite?”
She responded with surprise, “What an amusing first question to ask someone you barely know. The answer is neither!”
A puzzled Nasrosoltan was taken aback by her forwardness and dismissive attitude, and he asked, “Neither? But how can that be?”
She replied, “As someone who likes to sing, I also consider my voice an instrument, and that is the one I would pick as my favorite!”
The self-assurance she displayed gave Nasrosoltan the sudden feeling of being off-balance and in over his head. He was not sure if he should abandon this uncomfortable conversation and move on or continue. After a brief pause in which he considered a gracious exit, he decided to remain to see where the conversation might lead. She was a challenge, and he determined he was up for one—partly because he sensed she was cultivating an air of aloofness to keep him at a distance.
The commander then suddenly interjected, “Madame Shamsi, Nasrosoltan is also well versed in the French language; you should converse!” as if to test Nasrosoltan’s prowess or lack thereof. Or it could have just been a well-intentioned but mistimed pronouncement on his part. Nasrosoltan preferred to see this as a sign of his friend’s ignorance rather than his wickedness.
The two grudgingly agreed to demonstrate their command of French, attempting to satisfy what they thought was the commander’s curiosity. Even though the commander himself did not speak the language, he stood uncomfortably between them like a chaperone with an awkward smile on his face, acting as if he was a party to the conversation.
While they spoke, Nasrosoltan sensed from Madame Shamsi’s reaction toward the commander that she did not want him there. But she did seem delighted knowing that he could not understand their conversation.
They continued speaking in French, and Madame Shams-e-Zaman said to Nasrosoltan, “You know, the commander had earlier mentioned to me that you had lived in St. Petersburg. It must have been wonderful.”
He replied, “Yes, Madame Shams-e-Zaman—”
But she cut him off and said, “Please, call me Shamsi if you don’t mind; Shams-e-Zaman is too formal.”
Nasrosoltan appreciated her request that she be addressed more casually. He saw it as a sign of a potential thaw in her initial stance, and it pleased him that she seemed to want to be on a less formal footing.
Unlike the commander, Nasrosoltan considered Madame Shamsi a breath of fresh air, and he replied, “Yes, I miss St. Petersburg dearly and look forward to getting back soon. Have you ever been there?”
She answered with a sigh as if recalling a magical experience. “Yes, with my late husband when he was ambassador to France, we took a trip to Russia. St. Petersburg is a beautiful city, but if you miss a city so enchanting, think about how I feel having lived in the loveliest city in the world, Paris, for seven years myself. I am glad to see another person who also misses Europe and does not think it a sin to want to live there instead of here. You, who feel the same way, can perhaps understand why my desire to return to Europe burns that much deeper, especially for a woman with my many interests.”
Nasrosoltan was curious to know what interests she meant and was about to ask as a ruse to continue their conversation. But instead, Madame Shamsi herself continued to explain, “Even though I love Persia and missed it when I was away, it is difficult for me to pursue my passions while living here compared to living in Europe. I have come home only to put my late husband’s affairs in order so I can move back to Paris permanently.” And then, with a laugh, she added, “I was born a few years too early for Persia, and it seems a few years too late for Paris! I miss Europe very much and will be going back at the earliest opportunity.”
Nasrosoltan felt as she did; he also wanted a quick return to St. Petersburg, which seemed to some not as glamorous as Paris, but it was a city he had come to love.
After this brief but intriguing conversation, they parted company as dinner was being served, and she went to join the governor at his table. Nasrosoltan and the commander were seated at another, with a group of decorated military officers.
After dinner, and as the night wore on, Nasrosoltan kept watch of Madame Shamsi from across the tent, and as he followed her with his eyes, he became more spellbound by this beguiling woman.