She kept silent for a long time, her only response being to fold her arms across her chest.
"I'm asking why you're angry."
She answered tersely, "Don't ask questions to which you already know the answer."
He guffawed abruptly to proclaim his disdain and disbelief Then he rose, filled both glasses, and handed one to her, telling her, "Lighten your spirits."
She took the glass courteously but set it on the table. "Thank you," she murmured.
After retreating to his place he sat back down, raised his glass to his lips, and drained it in one gulp. Then he laughed uproariously.
"Could you have anticipated this surprise? If it were possible to backtrack a quarter of an hour… Zanuba, Zanuba, just plain Zanuba… can you believe it? Don't let yourself be flustered by the blow. Who knows? Perhaps this is the fashion in coquetry now in 1924, you provincial has-been. How have I changed? … Not in any way. It's Zanuba. Isn't that her name? Clearly every man meets at least one woman who resists his advances. Since Zubayda, Jalila, and Maryam's mother are all wild about you, who is there but Zanuba, this dung beetle, to resist you? Endure it to overcome it. In any case the matter's not a catastrophe. Oh, look. See how pretty and firm her leg is. What a solid base she has. You don't think she's really rejected you, do you?"
"Have a drink, sweetheart."
In a voice both polite and determined she replied, "I will when I feel like it."
He fixed his eyes on her. Then he asked suggestively, "When do you think you'll feel like it?"
She frowned in a way that showed she understood his allusion but did not respond.
With a sinking feeling al-Sayyid Ahmad asked, "Doesn't my affection meet with any acceptance?"
Bowing her head to hide her face from his eyes, she begged him, "Won't you stop that?"
He was overcome by a surge of anger, which came in reaction to his sense of being rejected. In astonishment he asked her, "Why did you come here?"
Pointing to the lute lying on the sofa not far from him, she protested, "Because of this."
"Only? … There's no conflict between that and what I'm proposing."
Vexed, she asked him, "Against my will?"
Prey to the disquieting feelings of disappointment and annoyance, he said, "Of course not, but I don't see any reason for you to refuse."
She said coldly, "Perhaps I have some reasons."
He laughed loudly and dryly. Then, exasperated, he said sarcastically, "Maybe you're afraid of losing your virginity."
She glared at him for a long time and then said furiously and vengefully, "I only accept a man I love."
He would have laughed again but restrained himself. He was tired of these sad, mechanical laughs. He stretched his hand out to the bottle and impulsively poured himself half a glass. But he left it on the table. He began to look anxiously at the woman, not knowing how to extricate himself from the fix he had created himself "That viper and daughter of a viper only accepts a man she loves," be reflected. "Does that mean anything more than that she falls in love with a different man every night? It will be hard for you to save face after this disaster tonight. The gentlemen are inside, and you're at the mercy of this pampered musician…. Flay her with your tongue…. Kick her…. Shove her into the cabin against her will…. The best thing would be to turn your back on her and leave this place immediately. Our eyes have looks fierce enough to humble proud necks…. How charming hers is. Don't try to dispute her beauty. When a person loses his head, he will surely suffer."
"I didn't expect such harshness," he said.
He frowned and came to a decision. His face was scowling as he rose. Shrugging his shoulders disdainfully, he said, "I thought you would be gracious and charming like your aunt, but I was wrong. I have only myself to blame."
He heard the gentle smack of her lips as she cleared her throat in protest, but he went to get his cloak, which he put on rapidly. He was fully dressed in less than half the time he usually required to satisfy his taste for elegance. He had made his decision and was angry, but his despair was not yet total. Part of him still rebelliously refused to believe what had happened or at least found it easy to doubt. He picked up his walking stick but watched from one moment to the next for something to occur that would prove him wrong and satisfy the hopes of his wounded pride. She might suddenly laugh and thus slip back the veil of her bogus objection. She would rush to him, deploring his anger. She could leap in front of him to prevent him from leaving. When a woman cleared her throat in protest like that it was frequently a maneuver to be followed by her surrender. But none of these possibilities came to pass.
She remained sitting there, staring off into space, ignoring him as though she did not see him. So he quit the room for the vestibule and went from there to the entrance and on to the road, sighing with regret, sorrow, and rage. The fresh autumn air gently flowing through his garments, he walked along the dark road until he reached the Zamalek Bridge. There he got in a taxi and sped away. His intoxication and brooding thoughts made him oblivious to the world around him. When he began to pay attention he was already in Opera Square. As the vehicle circled around it on the way to al-Ataba al-Khadra Square, by the light of the lampshe chanced to see the wall of the Ezbekiya Garden. He fixed his eyes on it until a turn hid it from view. Then he closed his eyes, for he felt a stinging pain deep within his breast. He was conscious of a voice like a moan inside him, crying out in his silent world. It was praying God's mercy for his darling lost son. He did not dare express the prayer with his tongue, lest God's name be mentioned by one soaked in wine.
When he opened his eyes again, two large tears flowed down.
79
He did not know if what had gotten hold of him was a devil to be pelted with stones or a noxious disease. He had gone to sleep hoping the evening's foolishness, which he attributed to his inebriadon, was finished. There was no question that drinking caused foolish behavior capable of spoiling pleasures and upsetting delights. When the morning light found him, he was tossing about restlessly in bed. The spray of the shower on his naked body dispelled thought from his mind and made his heart pound. He could see her face before his eyes. The whisper of her lips resounded in his ears, and the vibration of pain returned to his heart.
"You dwell on your romantic fantasies like an adolescent. People around you on the street greet you respectfully, saluting your dignity, piety, and neighborliness. If they only knew that you return their greetings mechanically while you dream of a girl who is an entertainer, a lute player, a woman who offers her body's favors for sale every night… if they only realized this, they would surely treat you to a scornful and pitying smile instead of a greeting. Once the viper says yes, I'll drop her with disdain and relief. What's come over me? What do I want? Are you getting senile? Do you remember the ravages time has visited on Jalila and Zubayda? That foul havoc was discovered by your heart, not discerned by your senses. But not so fast. Beware of being taken in by your imagination, for it will feed you like a tasty morsel to destruction…. It's all a question of that one white hair. What other reason could a lowly lute player have had for scorning you? Spit her out like a fly that slips into your mouth when you're yawning. Alas, you know you won't spit her out, if only because of a desire for revenge. I need to regain my respect, that's all. The girl must say yes. Then you can abandon her with no regrets. She hasn't e nough attractions to merit the struggle. Do you remember her legs, her neck, and the carnal look in her eyes? If you had treated your pride with a spoonful of patience, you would have won enjoyment and delight that very evening. What cause is there for all this anguish? I'm in pain. Yes, I'm suffering. I'm oppressed by the humiliation I've encountered. I threaten to scorn her, but when I think of her, my body blazes with desire. Have some shame. Don't make yourself a laughingstock. I ask you to swear by your children, those who remain and the one departed. Your first wife, Haniya, was the only woman to leave you. You chased after her, and what did you gain from that? Don't you remember?