Kamal answered delightedly, “Death to anyone who thinks ill of you.”
They ate with great appetite, Husayn and Ai'da first. Then Kamal, encouraged by watching them, followed suit. He served Budur her food himself. She was content with one sandwich and a piece of chicken breast. Then she turned her attention to the fruit. Kamal could not resist the temptation to observe Husayn and Aida surreptitiously as they ate, in order to see how they handled their food. Oblivious to his surroundings, Husayn devoured his food as though he were alone. Even so, he did not lose his distinguished air and thus represented in Kamal's eyes the beloved aristocracy acting spontaneously. Ai'da revealed new dimensions of elegance, grace, and refinement whether in cutting the meat, in grasping the sandwiches by the tips of her fingers, or in the movements of her lips as she chewed. All this took place in an easy, relaxed manner, without any affectation or embarrassment. The truth was that Kamal bad been looking forward to this moment expectantly and inci edulously, as though skeptical that she ate food like other human beings. Although his knowledge of the type of food she was consuming troubled his religious sensibilities greatly, he found in its novel and unusual nature, compared with what people he knew ate, a parallel to the eater herself, and thishelped calm his questioning, perplexed imagination. Two contradictory feelings alternated within him. At first he was uneasy to see her undertake this activity in which both men and animals share. Then he felt somewhat relieved, since this activity brought the two of them closer together, if only a little. But he was still not free of questions. He was forced to wonder whether she also participated in other natural human functions. He could not deny that, but it was hard for him to accept. Therefore he refused to answer, although he experienced a sensation he had not known previously, one containing a silent protest against the laws of nature.
“I admire your feeling for religion and your moral idealism.”
Kamal looked at his friend cautiously and suspiciously. So Husayn affirmed, “I'm speaking sincerely, not making a joke.”
Kamal smiled shyly. Then he pointed at the remaining sandwiches and beer as he said, “Despite all this, your celebrations in the month of Ramadan are beyond description. Lights are lit, the Qur'an is recited in the reception hall, the call to prayer rings out in the gentlemen's parlor. Isn't that so?”
“My father celebrates the nights of Ramadan out of love, respect, and veneration for the traditions my grandfather observed. He and Mama are also scrupulous about fasting.”
Ai'da said with a smile, “I am too.”
With an earnestnesshe meant to be sarcastic Husayn said, “Ai'da fasts one day out of the whole month and sometimes gives up by afternoon.”
A'ida retorted in revenge, “Instead of fasting, Husayn eats four meals a day during Ramadan: the three normal ones and then the meal before daybreak reserved for fasters.”
Husayn laughed, and food would have fallen from his mouth if he had not reared hishead back quickly. He said, “Isn't it strange that we know so little of our religion? What Papa and Mama know about it is hardly worth mentioning. Our nurse was Greek. A'ida knows more about Christianity and its rituals than she does about Islam. Compared with you we can be considered pagans”. Then, addressing A'ida, he added, “Kamal reads the Qur'an and works about the life of the Prophet.”
In a tone giving a hint of admiration she said, “Really? Bravo! But don't think any worse of me than is absolutely necessary, for I've memorized more than one Qur'an sura.”
Kamal murmured dreamily, “Marvelous, extremely marvelous. Which one, for example?”
She stopped eating to try to remember. Then with a smile she replied, “I mean I used to know some chapters by heart. I'm not sure how much I've retained…”. Then, raising her voice as though she had found what she was searching for, she continued: “Like the sura which speaks of God's unity and so forth.”
Kamal smiled, since the sura she referred to, number one hundred twelve, had only four verses. He handed her a piece of chicken breast, which she took gratefully, although she confessed she was eating more than she normally would.
She said, “If people ate all their meals at picnics, no one would be slender anymore.”
Kamal said hesitantly, “The women in my part of town don't want to be slim.”
Husayn agreed with him and commented, “Mama herself feels that way, but A'ida considersherself a Parisian.”
“God forgive my beloved her scorn,” Kamal brooded. “Like the skeptical notions you read, she deeply troubles your believing soul. But will you be able to confront your beloved's scorn for Egypt and Islam with the same criticism and anger you employed against those skeptical ideas? Of course not! Your soul harbors nothing but the purest love for her. You love even her defects. Defects! She has no defects, even if she makes light of religion and does things it forbids. In someone else, those would be defects. What I fear most is that from now on no beautiful woman will be able to please me unless she takes her religion lightly and performs forbidden acts. Does that make you apprehensive? Ask God's forgiveness for yourself and for her. Say that it is all amazing, as amazing as the Sphinx. How much your love and the Sphinx resemble each other. Each of them is an eternal riddle.”
A'ida emptied what was left from the thermos into the fourth glass. Then she asked Kamal seductively, “Won't you change your mind? It's just a refreshing drink….”
He smiled with apologetic thanks. Husayn grabbed the glass and raised it 1 o his mouth, saying, “Me instead of Kamal”. With a moan he continued: “We've got to stop or we'll die of overeating.”
When they concluded their meal, only half a chicken and three sandwiches remained. Kamal, who thought he would distribute the leftovers among the young boys prowling about, saw A'ida put her sandwiches back in the basket along with the glasses and thermos and felt obliged to return the rest of his food to the bag. He happened to recall Isma'il Latif's comments about the parsimonious spirit of the Shaddad family.
Husayn jumped to the ground and said, “We have a pleasant surprise for you. We've brought a phonograph and some records to help our digestion. You'll hear some European music selected by A'ida and also Egyptian pieces like ‘Guess What,’ ‘After Dinner,’ and ‘Turn Aside Here.’ What do you think of this surprise?”
89
DECEMBER WAS half over, and the weather was still relatively mild, although the month had begun with windstorms, rains, and bitter cold. Kamal approached the Shaddad family mansion with happy deliberate steps, his neatly folded overcoat thrown over his left arm. His elegant appearance suggested that he had brought his coat to perfect the splendor and respectability of his attire rather than to guard against a change in the weather, especially since it was so mild. The late-morning sun was brilliant. Kamal thought their gathering would take place in the garden gazebo rather than the parlor, where they met in cold weather, and that consequently he might have an opportunity to see Ai'da, who was only allowed to visit them in the garden.
If winter deprived him of a chance to meet her outside, it did not prevent him from seeing her at the window that overlooked the path to the garden or on the balcony surveying the entrance to the mansion when he arrived or left. He might catch a glimpse of her resting her elbows on the ledge or holding her chin in her hand. H e would look up and bow devoutly. She would return his greeting with a delicate smile so sparkling that it lit up his dreams both day and night. Hoping to see her, he glanced stealthily at ths balcony when he entered the grounds of the mansion and then at the window as he walked along the path. But he did not find her in either spot. Indulging himself in the hope that he would meet her in the garden, he headed for the gazebo, where he saw Husayn sitting unaccustomedly alone. They shook hands, and Kamal'sheart rejoiced with delighted affection as he looked at the handsome face, since Husayn was a kindred spirit.
Husayn welcomed him in a merry, untroubled way: “Greetings to the teacher! Overcoat and fez! Next time don't forget your scarf and stick. Welcome, welcome!”
Kam
al removed his fez and placed it on the table. Throwing his coat on a chair, he asked, “Where are Isma'il and Hasan?”
“Isma'il has gone to the country with his father. So you won't see him today. And Hasan telephoned me this morning to say he'll be at least an hour late, because he's copying some lecture notes. You know he's a model student like you. He's determined to get his degree this year.”
They sat on neighboring chairs, with their backs to the house. The fact that they would be alone presaged for Kamal a quiet conversation with no dissension. It would be a harmonious and thoughtful meeting lacking the tedious but delightful debates unleashed by Hasan Salim and the stingingly sarcastic comments tossed off ad nauseam by Isma'il Latif.
Husayn continued: “I, to the contrary, am a rotten student. I listen to the lectures attentively, since I'm able to concentrate on them, but I can hardly bear to read my textbooks. I've often been told that studying law requires rare cleverness. They should rather say it requires denseness and patience. Like others motivated by ambition, Hasan Salim's a diligent student. I've often wondered what makes him push himself beyond normal human endurance, working and staying up late. As the son of a superior court judge he could have contented himself with doing just enough to pass, confident that his father's influence would guarantee him the kind of position he desires. The only explanation I can find is pride, which makes him want to succeed and drives him on relentlessly. Isn't that so? What do you think?”
Kamal replied sincerely, “Hasan's a fine young man who deserves praise for his character and intelligence.”
“I heard my father say once that his father's an extraordinary and fair judge, except when it comes to political cases.”
This opinion coincided with Kamal's own prejudice, since he knew that Salim Bey Sabry favored the Liberal Constitutionalists. He said sarcastically, “That means that he has a brilliant legal mind but is unfit to judge.”
Husayn laughed loudly and then said, “I forgot I was speaking toaWafdist.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Kamal answered, “But your father isn't one! Imagine Salim Bey Sabry judging conspiracy and murder charges against Wafdists like Abd al-Rahman Fahmy or al-Nuqrashi…”
Had his opinion of Salim Bey Sabry been well received by Husayn? Yes, that could be seen clearly in his handsome eyes, to which prevarication and hypocrisy were alien. Perhaps Husayn's appreciation of this criticism could be attributed to the rivalry - no matter how muted by refined manners and decorum - that often arises between peers. Shaddad Bey was a millionaire, a wealthy man with status and prestige, who also had a long-standing relationship with the Khedive Abbas. Salim Bey Sabry, on the other hand, was a superior court judge for the largest judicial circuit in a land where official titles inspired people to veneration. It was inevitable that high rank and vast wealth should occasionally look askance at each other.
Husayn gazed at the vast garden calmly but sadly. The palms had been stripped of their hanging fronds, the rose bushes were denuded, the lush green of the vegetation had faded, and the smiles of the flowers had disappeared from the mouths of the buds. The garden appeared to be plunged in grief over the advent of winter. Gesturing toward the view, he said, “See what winter has done. This will be our last meeting in the garden. But you're one of winter's admirers.”
Kama! really was fond of winter, but he loved A'ida more than winter, summer, fall, and spring put together. He would never be able to forgive winter for depriving him of the happy reunions in the gazebo. Yet he agreed: “Winter's a brief, beautiful season. In the cold overcast conditions and the drizzle there's a vitality to which the heart responds.”
“It seems to me that winter's advocates are normally energetic and industrious. You're that way, and so is Hasan Salim.”
Kamal rejoiced at this praise but wished most of it had been reserved for him. “I only expend half my energy on school assignments,” he said. “The life of the intellect ranges far beyond school.”
Husayn nodded hishead approvingly and commented, “I don't think there's a school that could use up all the hours you devote to study each day. By the way, I think you're overdoing it, although occasionally I envy you. Tell me what you're reading now.”
Kamal was delighted by this kind of conversation. Next to A'ida, it was wtiat he loved best. He answered, “I can tell you my reading has become more systematic. It's no longer a question of reading anything I want stories in translation, selections of poetry, or critical essays. I've begun to proceed in a slightly more enlightened manner. I recently started spending two hours every evening at the National Library. There I look up the meanings of deep and mysterious words in the encyclopedia, terms like ‘literature,’ ‘philosophy,’ ‘thought,’ and ‘culture.’ As I read, I jot down the names of books I come across. It's an extraordinary world. My soul dissolves in it from eager curiosity.”
Husayn listened with attentive interest, leaning back in his rattan chair and putting his hands in the pockets of his dark blue English jacket. On his broad lips there was a pure smile of empathy. He said, “That's really beautiful. Once you asked me what you should read. Now it's my turn to confer with you. Do you see clearly where you're heading?”
“Gradually…. It seems I'm moving toward philosophy.”
Husayn raised his eyebrows and said with a smile, “Philosophy? That's a provocative word. Be careful not to mention it within Isma'il'shearing. I've thought for a long time that you're destined for literature.”
“Don't feel bad about it. Literature's a lofty form of entertainment, but that's not enough for me. My primary goal is the truth. What is God? What is man? What is the spirit? What is matter? Philosophy gathers all these together into a single, luminous, logical synthesis - as I've recently learned. That's what I crave with all my heart. This is the real journey. Compared with it, your trip around the world is secondary. Imagine! It will allow me to find a satisfactory answer to all these questions.”
Husayn's face lit up with enthusiasm and desire as he said, “That's really extraordinary. I won't hesitate to accompany you into this magical world. In fact, I've read some chapters about Greek philosophy, even if I didn't get much out ofthat. I don't like plunging into things the way you do. I pluck one flower here and another there. Then I flit back and forth. Let me tell you frankly that I fear philosophy will terminate your relationship with literature, for you're not satisfied with learning about something. You want to think and to write. I believe it won't be possible for you to be a philosopher and a literary figure at the same time.”
“Nothing will separate me from literature. Love of truth is not incompatible with the enjoyment of beauty. But work is one thing and relaxation another. I've determined to make philosophy my work and literature my relaxation.”
Husayn laughed suddenly. Then he said, “So that's how you're going to duck out of your promise to write a story uniting all of us inside the covers of a book.”
Karml could not help but laugh too. He answered, “But I hope to write about ‘man’ one day. So you'll be part ofthat.”
“I'm not nearly as interested in ‘man’ as I am in our individual personalities. Wait till I report you to A'ida.”
When Kamal heard this name, hisheart pounded with recognition, affection, and desire. He felt intoxicated, as if overwhelmed by a livery and expressive tune. Did Husayn really think the matter merited A'ida's censure? How ignorant he was! How could it have escaped him that there was no emotion Kamal felt, idea he pondered, or desire he nurtured that did not have the splendor of A'ida and her spirit glistening across its horizons.
“You wait. Time will show that I won't renege on my commitment so long as I live”. Then after a moment he asked in a serious voice, “Why haven't you thought about being a writer? Your circumstances leave you free to devote yourself to this art.”
Husayn shrugged his shoulders disdainfully and replied, “I should write so people can read? Why shouldn't people write so I can read?”
“Which of the two is of great
er importance?”
“Don't ask me which is more important. Ask which is more pleasant. I consider work the human curse, but not because I'm lazy. Certainly not! Work is a waste of time. It imprisons the individual and gets in the way of living. A life of leisure is the happy one.”
Kamal gave him a look that indicated he did not take his friend's words too seriously. Then he said, “I don't know what life a man would have if it weren't for work. An absolutely empty hour is certainly more tedious than a year filled with work.”
“What wretchedness! The very truth of your statement confirms how miserable things are. Do you think I'm able to enjoy absolute leisure? Certainly not, alas. I still while away my hours with useful and necessary tasks. But I hope one day to achieve a state of total inactivity.”
Kamal started to answer Husayn, but a voice behind them asked, “I wonder what they're talking about”. Once this voice, this prei:ty melody, came within earshot hisheart began to vibrate. The response came from deep inside him. Her words and hisheart seemed to be different harmonious elements of a single tune. His soul was immediately freed of its bounding thoughts, and an absolute emptiness pervaded it. Was this the kind of total emptiness Husayn dreamt of? It was nothing in itself, but happiness pervaded it.
He turned around to watch as A'ida, preceded by Budur, approached from a short distance and came to a halt in front of them. A'ida was wearing a dress the color of cumin and a blue wool jacket with gilded buttons. Her bronze complexion was so clear it had the depth of a cloudless sky and the purity of distilled water.
When Budur rushed to him, he caught her in his arms and hugged her, as though attempting to conceal by that embrace the ecstasy of love he felt. Just then a servant hastened up. He stopped in front of Husayn and said politely, “Telephone.”
Husayn rose, excused himself, and retreated to the men's parlor, followed by the servant.
Thus Kamal found himself alone with her for the first time in his life. Budur's presence did nothing to detract from the intimate atmosphere. He wondered apprehensively whether A'ida would remain or depart. But she advanced a couple of steps to stand under the roof of the gazebo, on the far side of the table from him. He gestured for her to sit down, but she smilingly declined with a shake of her head. So he stood up and lifted Budur onto the table. He caressed the young girl'shead anxiously as he devoted all his attention to taming his emotions and mastering his feelings. A period of silence ensued, during which the only sounds to be heard were the rustling of the branches, the whispering of the dry leaves scattered about, and the chirping of the sparrows. To his eyes the earth, sky, trees, and distant wall separating garden from desert not to mention the bangs of his beloved falling over her forehead and the extraordinary sparkle and contrast of her eyes - all seemed a joyous vision from a happy dream. He could not tell for certain whether these things were really before his eyes or if it was an imaginary scene glimmering in his memory until the melodious voice crooned, “Don't bother him, Budur.”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 86
