In a polite tone but with ironic insinuation, Kamal asked Hasan, “Isn't it possible that you've been deceived like the rest?”
Hasan drew hishead back haughtily and said with great certainty, “I'm not like the others!”
How Hasan's arrogance infuriated him…. How angry Kamal was at the good looks and self-confidence of this coddled son of the eminent superior court judge whose rulings in political cases were suspect…. A “ha” escaped from Hasan, like the tail end of a laugh, although there was nothing in his look to suggest amusement. It was his way of preparing for a change from a haughty voice to a more gracious tone.
“She'?; an exceptional girl,” he said, “without a flaw, although occasionally her appearance, conversation, and amiable nature leave her open to suspicions.”
Kamal was quick to respond enthusiastically, “In both appearance and reality she's beyond criticism.”
Hasan bowed hishead gratefully as though to say, “Well done”. Then he remarked, “That's what anyone with sound judgment and insight must see. Yet there are matters that have troubled a few minds. To make myself clear I'll cite examples. People misconstrue the fact that she visits in the garden with friends of her brother Husayn, thus challenging our cultural traditions. Some question her practice of conversing with these young men and befriending them. Still others fancifully imagine that there must be a weighty secret behind her innocent custom of pleasantly trading jokes with them. Do you get my meaning?”
With the same enthusiasm as before Kamal said, “Naturally I understand what you mean, but I fear your suspicions are exaggerated. I mean I've never been suspicious of any of her actions. Her conversation and little jokes are obviously innocent. Moreover, she did not receive a totally Egyptian upbringing. So she shouldn't be expected to observe all our traditions and shouldn't be blamed for deviating from them. I suspect that's what the others think too.”
Hasan shook hishead as though wishing he believed Kamal's opinion of their friends. Kamal did not bother to comment on Hasan's silent observation. He was happy with his defense of his beloved and delighted by the opportunity to declare his belief in her chastity and innocence. It was true that his enthusiasm was insincere, but not because he harbored reservationshe washesitant to make public. He had long believed his beloved was beyond suspicion. Yet he lamented his happy dreams based on the assumption that there was a secret meaning behind her jests and delicate hints. Hasan was banishing those dreams, much as the lecently concluded conversation in the gazebo had. Although Kamal's wounded heart was struggling secretly to cling to them, if only by a slender thread, he went along with Hasan Salim publicly, accepting his friend's opinion in order to cover his own tracks, conceal his sense of defeat, and demolish his rival's claim to be the authority on the beloved's true nature.
Hasan continued: “It's not surprising that you should understand, for you're a bright young man. As you said, the fact is that A'ida's innocent, but excuse me if I tell you frankly about a trait that may seem peculiar to you. Perhaps it's her own fault to a great degree if she's misunderstood. 1 refer to her penchant for being the ‘dream girl’ of all the young men she meets. Don't forget that it's innocent. I tell you I've never encountered a girl more protective of her honor than she is. But she's crazy about reading French novels, frequently refers to their heroines, and has her head filled with an imaginary world.”
Kamal smiled to reassure him, wishing to suggest in this fashion that he washearing nothing new. Then driven by a desire to provoke Hasan, he said, “I learned this some time ago when we had a conversation - she, Husayn, and I - on this very subject.”
He was finally able to make Hasan abandon his aristocratic composure. Hasan's face showed his astonishment, as he asked with apparent alarm, “When was that? I don't remember being present! Did someone tell Ai'da she wanted to be everyone's 'dream girl'?”
With victorious relief, Kamal gazed at the changes affecting his friend. Afraid of carrying it too far, he said cautiously, “That wasn't mentioned in so many words but was implied during a conversation about her infatuation with French novels and her immersion in the world of the imagination.”
Regaining his calm and equilibrium, Hasan was silent for a time, as though attempting to collect his thoughts, which Kamal had momentarily succeeded in scattering. He seemed hesitant. Eventually Kamal realized that Hasan wanted to know everything about his conversation with Ai'da and Husayn. When had it occurred? What had made them discuss those sensitive topics? Would he spell out exactly what had been said?
But Hasan's pride restrained him from asking. At last he said, “So you can vouch for the accuracy of my view. Unfortunately many people do not understand A'ida's conduct the way you do. They don't comprehend the important truth that she loves a person's love for her, not that person.”
“If the fool knew what had actually happened,” Kamal thought, “he wouldn't waste all this effort. Doesn't he know I don't even aspire to have her love my love? Look at my head and nose. Reassure yourself! ”
In a voice not free of sarcasm Kamal said, “ ‘She loves a person's love for her, not that person’ what a philosophy!”
“It's the truth, and I'm certain of it.”
“But you can't know for certain that this is always the case.”
“Yes, I can, even with my eyes closed.”
Falling prey to his sorrow, Kamal asked with sham astonishment, 'Can you be sure that she does not love one person or another?”
Confidently and contentedly Hasan replied, “I can confirm with total certainty that she does not love any of the men who occasionally imagine she does.”
“Only two types of people have a right to speak with such confidence,” Kamal reflected, “the believer and the fool. And he's no fool. There's nothing new in what you're hearing. So why does it hurt? The truth is that I've felt enough pain today for a full year of love.”
“But you can't prove she doesn't love anyone.”
“I didn't say that.”
Kamal looked at him as though consulting a diviner and then asked, “So you know she's in love?”
Nodding hishead in agreement, Hasan said, “I invited you on this walk to tell you.”
Kamal'sheart sank in his chest - as though in attempting to flee from pain it had drowned in pain's waves. Until then he had suffered because it was impossible for her to love. Now his tormentor was affirming that she was in love, that the beloved loved, that her angelic heart was subject to the laws of passion, affection, desire, and longing - all directed at one individual. Of course, his intellect, but not his emotions, had occasionally allowed for that possibility, but in the way it accepted death - as an abstract thought, not a cold reality affecting his own body or that of a loved one. For this reason the news took him by surprise, as if the concept and its actual existence were being revealed to him at the same time.
“Reflect on these realities,” he counseled himself. “Admit that there are pains in this world you never imagined, despite your expertise in pain.”
Hasan continued: “I told you at the beginning that I have my reasons for this conversation with you. Otherwise I wouldn't have intruded into your personal affairs.”
He would be consumed by the sacred fire to the last speck of ash.
“I'm sure that's true. I'm interested to hear what you have to say.”
Hasan's feeble smile revealed that he washesitant to utter the decisive words. So Kamal tried to be patient but finally, although hisheart dimly perceived the distressing truth, he prodded his friend: “You said you know she's in love….”
Flinging off hishesitation, Hasan said, “Yes. Our relationship gives me a right to assert this.”
“Aida's in love, O celestial realms. The strings of your heart contract to accompany a dirge. Does her heart harbor the same feelings for this happy young man that yours does for her? If this truly were possible, the best thing would be for the world to burst asunder. Your companion isn't lying, for handsome young men from distinguished fami
lies don't lie. The most you can hope for is that her love is of a different kind than yours. If this catastrophe is inevitable, it's some consolation that Hasan's the one. It's also comforting to find that sorrow and jealousy do not blot out the reality standing before you - this wealthy, enchanting, marvelous fellow.”
As though pressing the trigger of a revolver he knew was empty, he remarked, “You seem extremely confident that she's in love this time with the person himself, not with his love for her.”
Another “ha” escaped from Hasan to express his certainty. He glanced swiftly at Kamal to see if he was convinced. Then he said, “Our conversation - mine and hers - was definitely not a talk that could be understood in more than one manner.”
“What kind of conversation was it?” Kamal wondered. “I'd trade my whole life for a single word of it. I've learned the truth and am quaffing the torment down to the dregs. Do you suppose he heard the ravishing voice tell him, love you'? Did she say it in French or in Arabic? The fires of hell burn with torment like this.”
He said calmly, “I congratulate you. It seems to me that each of you is truly worthy of the other.”
“Thanks.”
“But I wonder what prompted you to reveal this precious secret.”
Hasan raised his eyebrows as he said, “When I discovered you talking together, I was afraid you might be taken in, like many others, by some statement of hers. So I decided to tell you the truth quite candidly, because I hated for you of all people to be deceived.”
“Thank you,” murmured Kamal, moved by the lofty sentiments of the gifted young man whom Ai'da loved and who had hated to let Kamal be deceived and therefore had slain him with the truth. Was it not possible that jealousy had been among the motives inducing Hasan to tell Kamal his secret? But had he no eyes to see Kamal'shead and nose?
Hasan picked up the conversation again: “She and her mother frequently visit our residence. Then we have opportunities to talk.”
“Alone?” This question slipped out unconsciously, and he regretted it. Feeling uneasy, he blushed.
Hasan replied quite simply, “At times.”
How he wished he could see her in this role, that of a woman in love. He had never imagined it in his wildest dreams. What did the glow of passion and affection look like in her dark eyes, which cast him patronizing glances? Although fatal to the heart, it would be a vision to light up the mind with a firebrand of sacred truth justifying an eternal curse on any skeptic.
“Your spirit flutters like a trapped bird wishing to fly free. The wodd is a crossroads of ruins. It would be pleasant to leave it. But even if you're certain their lips have met in a rose-red kiss, you can look forward to the pleasure of absolute freedom in the whirlpool of madness.”
Driven by a suicidal desire he could no more resist than understand, he asked, “How can you agree then to let her mingle with Husayn's friends?”
Hasan hesitated a little before replying, “Perhaps I'm not totally comfortable with it, but I find no real reason to take offense. She's always in full view of her brother and all the others. Then there's her European upbringing. I concede that I've occasionally thought of mentioning my annoyance to her, but I'd hate to have her accuse me of jealousy. She'd love to make me jealous! Naturally you know about these feminine wiles. I'll admit I don't relish them.”
“No wonder,” mused Kamal, “that the demonstration of the earth's revolution on an axis and around the sun swept myths away and left people feeling dizzy.”
“As though she's deliberately baiting you,” he said.
Hasan replied confidently, “If I ever need to, I can always make her defer to me.”
This sentence and the tone in which it was uttered enraged Kamal to the point of insanity. He wished he could think of some pretext to attack Hasan and to roll him in the dust. Kamal would be strong enough to do it. He looked down on Hasan from above, and their difference in height seemed even greater than it actually was. If she could love someone that short, why could she not love someone a little younger than she was? He felt he had forfeited the world. Hasan invited him to dine with his family, but Kamal excused himself with thanks. Then they shook hands and parted.
He returned home feeling listless, dejected, and despondent. He wanted to be alone to brood over the events of the day, pondering them until their implications became clear. Life seemed clad in mourning weeds. But had he not known from the first that this was a hopeless love? What extra nuances had these events supplied? In any case, his consolation was that while other people talked of love, he loved with all hisheart. No one else would be capable of the kind of love that illuminated hisheart. This was where his distinction and superiority lay. He would not relinquish his dream of long standing to win his beloved in paradise where there were no artificial distinctions. He would not have a large head or a huge nose there.
“In heaven A'ida will be mine, by virtue of celestial law.”
91
HE SEEMED not to exist anymore. She ignored him so totally that it could only have been by design. He first realized this a week after he had spoken with Hasan Salim on Palaces Street, when he met his friends Friday morning at the gazebo in the gardens of the Shaddad mansion. They were all conversing when Ai'da arrived as usual, accompanied by Budur. She stayed for a while, chatting with this one and joking with that one, without paying any attention to Kamal. Initially he assumed his turn would come. But when he grew tired of waiting and noticed she did not want to look him in the eye or at least was avoiding his glance, he abandoned his passive stance and commented on something she had said in order to force her to address him. But she kept on talking and ignored him. Although no one else appeared to have noticed his abortive maneuver, because they were engrossed in what the beloved was saying, that did not soften the blow he had received without knowing what could have provoked it. Since he was predisposed to deny what had happened to him, he hid his suspicions. He began to watch for opportunities to try his luck again, though he was extremely apprehensive. When Budur attempted to escape from A'ida's grasp and waved her free hand at Kamal, he went to take the little girl in his arms. But Ai'da dragged Budur closer to her, protesting, “It's time for us to go”. Then she said goodbye and retraced her steps.
Oh, what was the meaning of this? Ai'da was annoyed with him and had come for the sole purpose of displaying her anger. But what was she blaming him for? What sin had he committed? What lapse, great or small, washe responsible for? Sneering at logic, anxiety shattered the certainties of his world.
At the time, he was able to gain firm control of himself so that his worn es would not be exposed. He knew how to keep hishead and plaved his normal role to perfection, concealing from his friends' eyes the impact of this crushing blow.
After the gathering broke up, he told himself it was best to face the truth, no matter how bitter. He would have to admit that A'ida had deprived him, for one day at least, of the benefits of her friendship. There was a tiny recording device in his loving heart, and no whisper, thought, or glance of the loved one escaped it. This mechanism even detected her intentions and could anticipate events still remote. Let the cause be whatever it was or let there be no cause - as though this was a disease defying medical treatment in either case he felt like a leaf ripped from the twig by a violent wind and cast into an oozing heap of refuse.
He found his thoughts hovering around Hasan Salim, who had ended their conversation with the words: “If I ever need to, I can always make her defer to me”. But she had come today as usual. Kamal had suffered from her snub, not her absence. Moreover, he and Hasan had parted on good terms. There would have been no reason for Hasan to ask her to ignore Kamal. And she was not a person to take orders from any man, no matter who. Besides, Kamal had done nothing wrong. Lord of the heavens, what was the secret behind this censure? At their meeting in the gazebo Ai'da had spoken harshly and mercilessly and had mocked Kamal'shead, nose, and dignity. But these remarks had not lacked an affectionate, jesting quality, and the session
had ended with something like an apology. Although it had dashed any hope he had nourished for his love, still his love had always been hopeless. When they met today, he had been ignored, ostracized, and condemned to silence and death. It would have been better for the loved one to treat her devotee harshly or cruelly than for her to pass by him as though he did not exist. How wretched! A new entry had been added to the dictionary of painshe carried in his breast. Here was a new levy imposed by love and how oppressive its levies were! In this manner he paid for the light that both illuminated and scorched him.
He was enraged. It was very hard to obtain nothing but this haughty cold-shoulder treatment in return for his enormous love. He was painfully aware that the only expression his anger could find was love and loyalty and that the one way to counteract the blow was prayerful supplication. If his soul had stood accused by anyone else, even by Husayn Shaddad, Kamal would not have hesitated to sever ties, but since the plaintiff was the beloved, all the slivers of anger sped back to his chest. His hostility was poured out on a single target, Kamal. A desire for revenge drove him to inflict punishment on the defendant, Kamal. He sentenced himself to a life of renunciation. A pervasive, sad, obstinate feeling directed him to avoid her forever. He had enjoyed her friendship. Indeed he had considered it a blessing beyond his wildest dreams, even though the force of his love overwhelmed heavens and earth. More than all that, he had enjoyed his despair at ever being loved by her and had forced his unruly cravings to be satisfied with a sweet smile or a kind word, even if these came in parting. But to be ignored by her saddened, baffled, and disoriented him, leaving him alienated from the entire world. In this manner he was afforded an opportunity to feel what a dead man might if still conscious.
His thoughts churned away mercilessly during his waking hours that whole week he was separated from the Shaddad mansion. He kept brooding about his failure, which he agonized over repeatedly - in the morning at home having breakfast with his father, walking along the street with senses that only appeared to be function] ng, at the Teachers College listening absentmindedly to a lecture, reading in the evening with scant attention, or humbly begging entry to sleep's ideal realm. Early in the morning when he opened his eyes, these thoughts were ready to fight for control of him, as tliough they had been lying in ambush at the threshold of consciousness or had awakened him out of an insatiable urge to devour him. Yes, how hideous the soul is when it turns on its master.
The Cairo Trilogy Page 88
