"No, let me ask what should make me trust him? Sa'd or Adli, Adli or Sa'd, how silly it all is...Yet even though Sa'd and Adli are equivalent for me politically, I can't say the same of them as men. I can't ignore Adli's distinguished family lineage, prestige, and culture. Sa'd — don't get angry — is nothing but a former seminarian from al-Azhar."
Oh, how it hurt Kamal whenever his friend let slip some hint of his sense of superiority over the Egyptian people. Kamal was extremely sad, for it seemed that Husayn felt superior to him or — and this was even more devastating and bitter — that his words reflected the feelings of the whole family. Yes, when Husayn talked to Kamal, he left his friend with the impression that he was talking about a people to which neither of them belonged. Was that caused by an error of perception on Husayn's part or was it flattery? Strangely enough, this attitude of Husayn's did not anger Kamal in its general implications nearly so much as it saddened him because of what it implied specifically about Kamal. It did not excite a feeling of class hostility or patriotism in him, for these emotions were put to flight by his friend's guileless grin, which revealed his sincerity and benevolence. They were decisively routed by a love uninfluenced by opinions or events.
Despite their friendship, Hasan Salim's attitude toward the common people enraged Kamal's sense of patriotism, even though Hasan's aloofness and haughtiness were no more pronounced than Husayn Shaddad's. Not even Hasan's polite manner of speaking or his reserve in expressing his feelings mediated for him. with Kamal, who considered them a form of cleverness serving to double his friend's responsibility and to reinforce his solidarity with the aristocracy in opposition to the people.
Addressing Husayn, Kamal asked, "Do I need to remind you that true majesty is not determined by whether a person wears a turban or a fez and is poor or rich? It seems to me that politics occasionally forces us to debate self-evident truths."
Isma'il Latif commented, "What I admire in Wafdists like Kamal is their intense partisan spirit". Then, looking around at his friends, he continued: "And what I despise about them is also their party loyalty."
Laughing, Husayn Shaddad said, "You're lucky. No matter what political opinion you advance, no critic can ever object to it."
Then Hasan Salim asked Husayn Shaddad, "You claim you're above politics. Do you insist on that even with regard to the former Khedive?"
Their eyes were directed toward Husayn with cheerful defiance, since his father's support for the former Khedive, Abbas Hilmi II, was well known and since it was for this reason that he had spent several years in exile in Paris. But Husayn said nonchalantly, "These matters are no concern of mine at all. My father was and still is a supporter of the Khedive. I'm not required to embrace his views."
His eyes sparkling with amusement, Isma'il Latif asked, "Was your father one of those who shouted, 'God lives! Abbas arrives'?"
Husayn Shaddad said with a laugh, "I've never heard about this, except from you. The indubitable truth is that there was nothing between my father and the Khedive beyond friendship and loyalty. Besides, as you all know, there's not a single party calling for the return of the Khedive today."
Hasan Salim said, "The man and his era have become part of history. The present situation can be put in these few words: Sa'd Zaghlul refuses to allow anyone else, no matter how fine or wise, to speak in the name of Egypt."
Immediately after receiving this blow, Kamal retorted, "The present situation can be summed up in even fewer words: No one in Egypt is able to speak for her except Sa'd. The people's support for him is great enough to achieve our goals in the end."
Kamal folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs until the tip of his shoe touched the table leg. He was planning to continue his remarks, but they heard someone close behind them ask, "Budur, don't you want to say hello to your old friends?"
Kamal's tongue was paralyzed. His heart leapt so violently that it shook his chest in a fashion that initially alarmed and almost hurt him. Then, quicker than a flash of lightning, an overwhelming and intoxicating happiness took hold of him. The effect on him was so great that he almost had to close his eyes. He discovered that every notion t'ulsing through his soul was directed heavenward. He rose with the others and turned around. He saw A'ida standing a step away from the gazebo, holding the hand of Budur, her little sister, who was three years old. The girls were looking at them with calm smiling eyes. After a wait of three months or more, here she was. Here was the original of the portrait that filled his spirit and body during his waking and sleeping moments. Here she was, standing before him, bearing witness to the fact that the limitless pain, the indescribable happiness, the searing periods of wakefulness, and the dreams spinning him through the skies could, in the final analysis, all be traced back to a charming human being whose feet left prints in the garden. He gazed at her, and her personal magnetism attracted his emotions so totally that he lost all sense of time, place, people, and self. He was once more reduced to a spirit swimming through the void toward his beloved. He perceived her more with his spirit than his senses in an enchanting intoxication, a musical rapture, and a lofty splendor. His sight grew weak and feeble. The force of his spiritual reaction seemed to have affected all his vital functions. Thus his senses and his faculties were transported to a semiconscious state approaching annihilation. Therefore, his beloved was more easily observed in his memory than in real life. When he was in her presence, he could scarcely see anything. Later she would appear to his memory with her slender figure, bronze face as beautiful as the moon, and thick black hair cut in a boyish bob, the bangs coming down over her forehead like the teeth of a comb. In her dark eyes there was a look as tranquil, gentle, and majestic as the dawn. He saw this picture in his memory, not with his senses. It was like a magical melody that so absorbs us when we hear it that we are unable to recall anything about it, until it comes back to us as a happy surprise in the first instants when we awake or during a moment of contentment. Then it reverberates deep within our consciousness in a perfectly harmonious manner.
Kama I hopefully wondered whether she would change her usual procedure and shake hands with them. Then he would feel her touch, if only for that one time in his whole life. But she greeted them with a smile and a nod of her head.
In her voice, which by comparison made even the most beloved melodies seem worthless, she asked, "How are all of you?"
They vied with each other to greet and thank her and congratulate her on her safe return.
Then, her slender fingers toying with Budur's hair, she told the girl, "Shake hands with your friends."
Budur sucked in her lips and bit them as she looked around shyly. Then she fixed her eyes on Kamal, and they both smiled. Knowing of the affection between them, Husayn Shaddad said, "She's smiling at the one she loves."
"Do you really love this fellow?" A'ida asked. Then, pushing her sister toward the young man, she said, "So greet him."
Blushing with happiness, Kamal held his hands out to her. She approached him, and he lifted her up. He began to kiss her cheeks with longing and emotion. He was delighted by her love and proud of it. In his arms there was a fragment from the body of the family. When he hugged this part of them, he was embracing the whole family. Was it possible for a worshipper to contact his beloved without some mediation like this? The strange resemblance between this child and her older sister was nothing short of magical. The person contentedly nestled against his breast seemed A'ida herself at an earlier stage of life. Once she had been as young, small, and generous with her affections as Budur. "Ponder that," he advised himself.