Here. Take these things. Sell the watches and keep the money you get for them. But don’t mention it to anybody. And when you sell the watches be sure Qaabil doesn’t find out about it. Smuggling’s not regular work, and it doesn’t go on long.
Her way of speaking amazed me. The words I meant to say flew off before I could say them. I took the watches and the banknotes, and stored them in various pockets of my jacket and trousers. I looked at the key in the door, and said: Are you going to lock the door from the inside?
Yes.
I opened the door and went out. After a few steps I turned around. She was standing in the doorway sobbing and wiping her eyes. I stopped walking. The feeling came over me that she was saying goodbye to me. I would have sworn that she was taking leave of me for the last time. I may never see her again. The girl in Aïn Ketiout, Asiya, Fatima, did I ever see any of them again once they had gone? I started to walk again. It was impossible to go back. My eyes filled with tears. I could not stop them from forming. I was certain that she still stood in the doorway watching me as I walked away. The force that keeps me from turning around and going back must be the same force that makes her remain standing in the doorway, unable to come after me. I am leaving the shack for good. A part of my life is ending, and another part will begin. Perhaps I shall never see any of them from the shack again.
11
I was sitting with Laila Bouwala in her room. Sometimes Lalla Zehor, the proprietor of the house, served us herself. Ever since I had left the shack, I had been spending my time drinking. There is a continuous babble of girls’ voices coming up from downstairs. During the past two nights I have slept with three of the girls. The only one of those whom I like is Rachida, who squirms in bed like a snake. Tonight here I am with Laila Bouwala. Hamid Zailachi told me that sometimes she wets her bed. He says it happened once when he was spending the night with her. I’m going to stay in her bed all night and see if she does it with me.
She poured what was left of the wine into the two glasses. Are we going to have another bottle, or will this be enough?
Without reflecting, I said: We’ll order another. And another, and another, until we’re drunk.
She got up and went to the door. She pulled the curtain aside and pushed the door, which was ajar. Then she called into the corridor: Lalla Zehor! Agi! She let go of the curtain and turned back to me.
What’s the matter with you? she said. You look sad. Has something happened? Or don’t you like being with me?
I looked at her and smiled. I’m not sad. I’m just thinking of something.
Thinking of what? She sat down smiling and lighted a cigarette, which she then put between my lips. This made me think of Sallafa. I studied Laila’s figure. It is fuller and better than Sallafa’s. She has long, smooth black hair. I intend to spread it over me like a blanket. I continued to run my eyes over her body.
Why are you staring at me that way? Don’t you like the way I look?
I told you I was thinking of something.
Well, stop thinking about it now. It makes you look sad.
Lalla Zehor spoke outside the door: Here I am.
Come in, Lalla Zehor, Laila told her.
She walked into the room, bringing a strong wave of perfume with her. I’m here, she said.
Bring us another bottle, said Laila.
I’m going to sleep here with Laila, I told Lalla Zehor. How much is she?
Just give me sixty pesetas, and it’ll be all right, she said. Nobody else would get her under a hundred.
I handed her the sixty pesetas, and twenty for the new bottle. A girl was calling up the stairs: Lalla Zehor!
I’m coming, she answered. And turning to us: What a loud voice that Rachida has! I’ll send the bottle up by her, or else by Alioua Larossia.
There was the sound of footsteps, and then came two knocks on the door.
Who is it? cried Lalla Zehor.
I recognized the voice. It’s me. Can I come in?
Lalla Zehor raised the curtain, and Kandoussi walked in.
We’re in luck, Lalla Zehor cried. So it’s you? I feel better just looking at you. Where have you been all this time? You haven’t been back to see us in I don’t know how long.
I was surprised to see Kandoussi.
So this is where you’ve been hiding out, he said to me. I’ve been looking everywhere, trying to find you. Come on. Get up.
But Si Kandoussi, aren’t you going to sit down with us?
Lalla Zehor was always hospitable. At least have something to drink.
You’ll have to excuse me, he said. I can’t tonight. Some other time, insha’Allah.
I stood up.
Will you be back? Lalla Zehor asked me.
Of course I’ll be back, I said immediately. Haven’t I already paid you for the night with Laila?
If the door’s locked, just knock, she said.
Now Laila spoke up. What time are you coming back? I looked at Kandoussi, and he answered for me: He’ll be back whenever he wants to come back. If he’s late, go to bed. But by yourself, and not with some other client.
Laila smiled. Lalla Zehor said to Kandoussi: Don’t worry about your friend. I haven’t got seven faces. Just the same face for everyone.
Kandoussi and I went downstairs, leaving Lalla Zehor with Laila. On the way down I asked him: Where’s el Kebdani?
This is not the place to talk, he said. I’ll tell you all about it when we get outside.
Going through the alleys of Bencharqi we ran into a good many drunks. From time to time Kandoussi stopped to shake someone’s hand. He seemed to know great numbers of people, and they all looked glad to see him and treated him with a special respect. We said nothing to one another as we walked along. He spoke when we got to the Zoco Chico.
What café do you want to sit in? The Fuentes? The Central? The Española?
Wherever you like.
We went into the Café Central. Before we sat down we ordered a cognac and a gin. We chose a free corner. Then he said: But where have you been? I looked everywhere.
Here in Tangier. Where did you think?
I mean, where do you sleep?
I found a place in the Casbah, in Derb ben Abbou.
Is it the house next to the school?
Exactly. That’s it.
You’re living in a nest of thieves and whores, you know.
But they asked for papers at all the other hotels. And I’ve got nothing.
Fine. We’ll talk about that later, he said.
The waiter came up and poured our drinks for us. After he had gone away, Kandoussi resumed talking.
Poor Kebdani. He’s dead.
My eyes and mouth opened wide. Dead? I repeated weakly.
Yes, he said. He’s dead. Allah irhamou. May Allah see to it that we all die as Moslems.
I emptied my glass and called the waiter. Then I lit a cigarette. Kandoussi drank what was in his glass.
Another round? the waiter asked.
Bring a full bottle of cognac, I told him.
Right, said Kandoussi. Bring a bottle, and I’ll drink that.
But how did he die? I said.
When he rowed back to the ship it wasn’t there. They’d caught sight of a Customs boat coming their way, and had to get out. He had to row ashore. The rowboat must have been thrown against a rock. They found him and the pieces of the boat lying on the beach. Poor Kebdani!
That was the death written for him, said Kandoussi.
Yes, I said sadly. You’re right. It was written that way. But it’s not right.