The Cairo Trilogy

by Naguib Mahfouz

  Leaning her head in the other direction, she cast him a look as if to ask teasingly, “When did you become so eloquent?” Then almost tenderly she said, “It seems there's been a misunderstanding. But that's all in the past.”

  Eagerly and hopefully he said, “It seems that you're still a little skeptical.”

  Griving in, she answered, “No, but I won't deny that I thought ill of you for a time. The truth only became clear afterwards.”

  Hisheart floated high over a cloud of happiness and swayed tipsily above it. He asked, “When did you learn that?”

  “Quite a while ago.”

  He gazed at her with gratitude, so moved by love he felt like crying. Then he said, “You learned I'm innocent?”

  “Yes.”

  Was Hasan Salim going to regain his good reputation? “How did you learn the truth?”

  She said quickly and in a way that showed she wanted to end this interrogation, “I learned it. That's the important thing.”

  He did not insist, for fear of annoying her, but a thought crossed his mind. Sorrow clouded hisheart, and he said plaintively, “Even so, you continued to hide yourself You didn't bother to announce the pardon with a sign or a word, although you were able to express your anger most expertly. But your excuse is obvious and I accept it.”

  “What excuse is that?”

  With a sorrowful voice he replied, “That you haven't ever known pain. I ask God most sincerely that you never will.”

  She said apologetically, “I thought you didn't care whether you were accused.”

  “May God forgive you. I cared more than you can imagine. It hurt me dreadfully to find the gap between us so vast. The problem wasn't merely your disinterest in the… affection I feel for you. It was also the unfair charges lodged against me. So consider your position and mine. But I'll tell you frankly that the unjust accusation was not responsible for my worst pains

  She smiled and asked, “So there wasn't just one type of pain?”

  Encouraged by her smile as if he were a small child, he proceeded to pour out the story of his devotion. He said passionately, “No. Your accusation caused the least of my pains, and your disappearance the greatest. Each hour out of the past three months has witnessed some moment of pain. The way I've lived, I could easily have been considered insane. So I mean and know what I'm saying when I pray that God will not test you with pain. I've learned from my own experience. What a cruel time it's been! It's convinced me that if you're destined to disappear from my life, I might as well search for another existence. It was like a long, odious curse. Don't make fun of me. I'm always afraid you will. But pain's too exalted l:o be mocked. I don't picture a generous angel like you joking about the afflictions of other people. And of course you're the cause too. But what can a person do? It's been my fate to love you with all the force of my being.”

  The silence that followed was broken only by his irregular breathing. She was looking straight ahead, and he could not search her eyes. He was comforted by her silence, for it was easier to bear than a careless word. So he considered it a triumph.

  “Imagine hearing her voice soft and sweet expressing the very same feelings….”

  He was crazy. Why had he released the floodwaters dammed up in hisheart? He was like a vaulter who keeps trying to go just a foot higher only to find himself soaring high into the heavens. But what force could muzzle him after this?

  “Don't remind me of things I hate to hear, for I've had my fill of that. I won't forget my head, for I carry it with me night and day, or my nose, for I see it repeatedly each day. But I've got something no one else comes close to possessing. My love for you is unequaled, and I'm proud of it. You should be too, even if you spurn it. I've felt this way ever since I saw you the first time in the garden. Haven't you been conscious of it? I haven't thought about confessing it before now, because I was afraid of spoiling our friendship and of being expelled from paradise. It was hideously difficult for me to consider risking my happiness. But now that I've been evicted, what do I have to fear?”

  His secret flowed out of him like blood from a wound. He saw nothing in all of existence except her extraordinary person. The road, trees, mansions, and the few passers by vanished into a dense fog with only one gap through which his silent beloved could be seen with her slender build, halo of black hair, and a profile that openly revealed its grace while concealing its secrets. In the twilight shadows her face seemed a pure brown, but when they crossed a side street it was radiant and bright from the rays of the setting sun. He could have kept on talking until morning.

  “Did I say I'd never considered confessing my love to you before? That's not quite true. The fact is, I started the day we met in the gazebo when Husayn was called to the telephone. I almost told you then, but before I could, you began attacking my head and nose”. He laughed briefly before continuing: “I was like an orator who opens his mouth only to be showered with pebbles by the audience.”

  She was calm and silent. That was fitting. An angel from another world should not converse in a mortal tongue or take an interest in human affairs. Would it not have been nobler of him to guard his secret? Nobler? Pride vis-a-vis the beloved was blasphemy. For the assassin to be confronted with her victim was only proper.

  “Do you remember your happy dream that left you in tears when you awoke? Dreams are quickly forgotten, but tears or rather the memory of them may become an immortal symbol.”

  Here she was saying, “I was only joking when I said those things, and I asked you then not to get angry.”

  This refreshing sensation deserved to be savored. It resembled the happy delight one feels after a throbbing toothache. The melodies latent within him echoed each other until a beautiful tune emerged. His beloved's features seemed the musical notation from which he was reading a heavenly composition.

  “You'll find I'm content with hoping for nothing, because as I told you I love you.”

  With her natural grace she cast him a smiling look but withdrew it too quickly for him to decipher it. What kind of look had it been? Was she pleased, moved, affectionate, responsive, or politely sarcastic? Had she bestowed it on his face as a whole or directed it toward hishead and nose?

  Then her voice followed this look: “I can only thank you and apologize for unintentionally causing you pain. You're kind and generous.”

  His soul was ready to convey him to the warm embrace of happy dreams, but she added in a faint voice, “Now let me ask what follows from this.”

  Washe hearing the voice of his beloved or an echo of his own? This very sentence was soaring somewhere over Palace Walk, borne aloft by his sighs. Had the time come for him to find an answer for this question?

  He asked anxiously, “Does something follow from love?”

  “She's smiling,” he thought. “I wonder what this smile means. But you want something more than a smile.”

  She answered, “The declaration is the beginning, not the end. I'd like to know what you want.”

  Still anxious, he said, “I want… I want you to give me permission to Jove you.”

  She could not hold back her laughter. She inquired, “Is this really what you want? But what will you do if I refuse?”

  Sighing, he replied, “In that case, I'll love you anyway.” In a half-joking manner that upset him she asked, “What's the point of the permission then?”

  How absurd it was when words betrayed a person and came out wrong…. What he feared most was falling back to earth as suddenly as he had risen from it. He heard her say, “You perplex nie. It seems to me that you even perplex yourself.”

  He answered uneasily, “Me… perplexed? Perhaps, but I love you. ‘What follows from this?’ I imagine occasionally that I aspire to things beyond the earth's capacities. But when I reflect a little, I'm unable to ascertain what my goal is. You tell me what this means. 1 want you to talk while I listen. Can you rescue me from my dilemma?”

  She said with a smile, “I don't have anything to offer in this rega
rd. You ought to be the speaker. I'll do the listening. Aren't you a philosopher?”

  His face turning red, he commented dejectedly, “You're making fun of me.”

  She was quick to answer, “No. But I wasn't anticipating a conversation like this when I left my house. You caught me by surprise, telling me things I wasn't expecting to hear. In any case,] 'm thankful and grateful. No one would be able to forget your tender and refined affection. It would be out of the question to make fun of them.”

  It was a captivating tune with sweet lyrics. Yet he did not know whether the beloved was being serious or frivolous. Were the portals of hope opening… or closing with the gentleness of a breeze? When she had asked him what he wanted, he had not replied, because he had not known what he did want. Would it be wrong to say that he longed for communion, the communion of one spirit with another? Should he knock at the mysterious closed door with a hug or a kiss? Shouldn't that be the answer?

  At the intersection where Palaces Street ended, A'ida stopped and said gently but decisively, “Here!”

  He stopped walking too and gazed at her face with astonishment. “ ‘Here’ meaning we must part here?” he wondered. “The sentence love you' is not far-reaching enough to rule out questions.”

  With no deliberation or thought, he exclaimed, “No!” Then, as though he had suddenly seen the light, he cried out, “What's the point of love? Wasn't that what you were really asking? Here's an answer for you: that we don't part.”

  With a calm smile, she replied, “But we must part now.”

  He asked fervently, “Without any displeasure or ill feelings?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Will you resume your visits to the gazebo?”

  “If circumstances permit.”

  He anxiously reminded her, “Circumstances permitted it in the past.”

  “Things are different now.”

  He was deeply hurt by her response and said, “It seems you won't return.”

  As though to remind him of the necessity of parting, she said, “I'll visit the gazebo whenever circumstances allow it. Have a happy day.”

  She set off in the direction of School Street. He stood there gazing after her as though she were a dream vision. When a turn in the road was about to hide her, she looked back with a smile. Then she vanished from sight.

  What had he said and heard? He would concentrate on all that shortly, after he came to. When would that be? He was walking all by himself. Alone? … What of the pounding of hisheart, the delirium of his spirit, and the echoes ofthat melody? All the same, a feeling of isolation shook hisheart to its core. The captivating, enchanting fragrance of jasmine overwhelmed him, but what was its special ingredient? This fragrance and love were similar in their mysterious and captivating enchantment. Perhaps penetration of one's secret would lead to discovery of the other's. Yet he would not solve this puzzle until he finished reciting all the anthems of bewilderment.

  95

  HUSAYN SHADDAD said, “Alas, this is our farewell meeting.”

  Kama! was peeved by this reference to leave-taking. He glanced quickly at Husayn to see if his face was actually as sorrowful as his words. All the same, Kamal had been aware of a valedictory atmosphere for more than a week, because the arrival of June usually signaled the departure of his friends for Ra's al-Barr and Alexandria. It was only a matter of days until the garden, the gazebo, and his friends would vanish from his horizons. The beloved had been pleased to disappear even before departure necessitated it. She had remained invisible even after reconciliation crowned their conversation on Palaces Street. Was the farewell meeting to conclude without a visit? Did his affection mean so little to her that she would begrudge him a fleeting vision before leaving for three months?

  Kama! smilingly asked, “Why do you say, 'Alas'?”

  Husayn Shaddad responded attentively, “I wish you would all go with me to Ra's al-Barr. My goodness! What a summer vacation that would be!”

  It would be marvelous, no doubt about it. Kamal would be happy, if only because the beloved would not be able to continue hiding there. Isma'il Latif remarked to him, “May God come to your aid. How can you bear the summer heat here? Summer has barely begun, and yet see how hot it is today.”

  It was very hot, although the sun's rays were no longer shining directly on the garden or the desert beyond it. Even so, Kamal replied calmly, “There's nothing in life that can't be borne.”

  The next moment he was scoffing at his own words. He wondered how he could have responded that way and to what degree w ords could be considered a true expression of feelings. Around him he saw people who certainly looked happy. In their short-sleeved shirts and gray trousers, they seemed to be defying the heat. Only he was wearing a suit - a lightweight white one -and a fez, which he had placed on the table.

  Isma'il Latif started praising the examination results: “One hundred percent success. Hasan Salim got his degree. Kamal Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, Husayn Shaddad, and Isma'il Latif all were promoted.”

  Kamal laughed and observed, “You could have skipped all but the final one, for the others were never in question.”

  Shrugging his shoulders scornfully, Isma'il retorted, “Each of us has attained the same goal you with fatigue and exertion all year long, me after only one month's effort.”

  “That proves you're a scholar at heart.”

  Isma'il asked sarcastically, “Didn't you casually remark that George Bernard Shaw was the worst student of his day?”

  Kamal laughingly replied, “Now I'm convinced that we have among us an equal to Shaw, if only in his failures.”

  Husayn Shaddad said, “I have news I need to disclose before we get carried away by our conversation.”

  When he found that this statement had not drawn much attention, he stood up suddenly and said in a theatrical tone, “Allow rne to announce some fascinating and happy news”. Glancing at Hasan Salim, he asked, “Isn't that so?” Then, looking back at Kamal and Isma'il, he continued: “Yesterday an engagement was arranged between Mr. Hasan Salim and my sister Ai'da.”

  Confronted by this revelation, Kamal felt like a man who suddenly finds himself beneath a streetcar, after feeling completely satisfied about his safety and security. Hisheart pounded violently, as if an airplane were plunging downward in an air pocket. An inner scream of terror seemed trapped in his rib cage, unable to get out. He was amazed especially when he thought about it later that he was able to control his feelings and to flash Husayn Shaddad a congratulatory smile for his sister's good fortune. Perhaps Kamal was distracted from his calamity for the time being by the struggle within him between his soul and the stupor threatening it.

  Isma'il Latif was the first to speak. He looked back and forth from Husayn Shaddad to Hasan Salim. The latter as usual projected a calm composure, although this time it seemed mixed with some embarrassment or discomfort. Isma'il cried out, “Really? What happy news, happy and sudden… happy, sudden, and treacherous. But I'll postpone discussion of the treachery till later. At the moment I'm content to offer my sincere congratulations.”

  Isma'il rose and shook hands with Husayn and Hasan. Kamal got up immediately to offer his congratulations too. Despite the smile on his face, he was so startled by the speed of events and the bizarre things people were saying that he imagined he was in a strange dream. Rain was pouring down on hishead. He was looking everywhere for shelter. As He shook hands with the two young men he said, “Really good news… heartfelt congratulations.”

  When they had settled back in their places, Kamal could not keep himself from glancing stealthily at Hasan Salim, whom he found calm and composed. Kamal had been apprehensive, imagining that his friend would look conceited or gloating. Experiencing some fleeting relief, Kamal proceeded to rally all his strength to hide his bloody wound from their watchful eyes, in order to keep himself from becoming the target of mocking sarcasm.

  “Be firm, my soul. I promise we'll return to all this later. We'll suffer together until we perish. We
'll think through everything until we go insane. It will be a satisfying moment in the still of the night, with no eye to observe or ear to eavesdrop, when pain, delirium, and tears are unveiled… far from any critic or scold. Then there's the old well. I'll remove the cover, scream down it to the resident demons, and confide my woes to the tears collected in the belly of the earth there from sad people everywhere. Don't capitulate. Beware, for the world seems as fiery red to you now as the pit of hell.”

  Adopting an accusatory tone, Isma'il said, “Not so fast! Both of you owe us an explanation. How did this come about without any advance warning? Or let's put that aside temporarily. How could you have celebrated the engagement without inviting us?”

  Husayn Shaddad replied defensively, “There wasn't a party, not even a small one. The gathering was limited to immediate family members. Your time will come when we celebrate the marriage contract. Then you'll be among the hosts, not the guests.”

  “The wedding day! That could be the title of a funeral dirge. The heart will be conducted in solemn procession to its final resting place surrounded by flowers, as people pay their last respects with shrieking trills. In the name of love, the young woman raised in Paris will bow before the turbaned shaykh as he recites the opening prayer of the Qur'an. In the name of pride, Satan left paradise.”

  Smiling, Kamal said, “Your excuse is accepted, and your invitation welcomed.”

  Isma'il Latif objected loudly: “Eloquence like this belongs with the seminarians at al-Azhar Mosque. When some people see food on the horizon, they forget they have any cause for complaint and magnanimously begin singing the praises of their hosts, all for the sake of a hearty meal. You're a true writer or philosopher or some other type of beggar like that, but I'm not.”

  Then he continued his attack on Husayn Shaddad and Hasan Salim: “You two are a couple of rascals… a long silence followed by the announcement of an engagement. Huh? Really, Mr. Hasan, you're the long-awaited successor for Tharwat Pasha, who did such a good job of suppressing information when he was Prime Minister.”