I visited the Riyadh driving school for women, out on a university campus. It has a waiting list of a mere 70,000. Here, some 3,000 registered students go through 30 hours of training, for about $600, or about six times the cost of the course for men. (Saudi authorities insist the quality of the training is higher.)

Shereen Abdulhassan, the founder of a Riyadh hiking team, told me that some years ago she’d given up hope. “I’m still not happy at the price discrimination,” she said. “But I love M.B.S. for trusting society more.” Thousands of Saudi women have already signed up to be drivers for a Middle Eastern ride-hailing company, Careem.

Hatoon Ajwad al-Fassi, a former associate professor of women’s history at King Saud University, has long campaigned for women’s right to drive. Four hours after the driving announcement in September, she received a call from an official telling her not to exult on social media. She concluded that the government did not want the breakthrough to be seen as a victory for public advocacy.

Her analysis of her country at the cusp struck me as about right. The crown prince is genuine. He’s put his finger on what is keeping Saudi Arabia back. He lacks wisdom, especially on Qatar. There are lots of red lines, new and old, constant censorship, calls to blacklist any “anti-Saudi” media. The centralization of power is alarming. Changes have occurred but have not been framed in law, which makes them vulnerable.

And so? “I am hopeful,” Fassi told me. “Hopeful that 10 years from now we will have a public sphere that is more humane and safe for women, freed of the guardianship’s abuses, and that will be good for the Saudi economy.”