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's head 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."
His response was to clasp Budur to his breast as he said, "If this is what it means to be bothered, I love it."
He gazed at A'ida with eyes full of myriad desires, enjoying himself, free this time of any supervision. He studied her carefully as though to grasp her secrets and to print her features and expressions on the surface of his imagination. He so lost himself in the vision's magic that he seemed in a daze or stupor. Before he knew what was happening she asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
When he emerged from his daze, his eyes clearly showed his confusion. She smiled and asked, "Do you want to say something?"
Did lie want to say something? He did not know what he wanted. He really did not understand what he wanted. He inquired in turn, "Did you see that in my eyes?"
With a mysterious smile on her lips she replied, "Yes."
"Whst was it you saw in them?"
She raised her eyebrows in mock astonishment and said, "That's what I want to know."
Should he reveal his closely held secret and tell her straightforwardly, "I love you," without regard to the consequences? But why divulge it? What would become of him if, as was most likely, this confession ended the friendship and affection between them forever? As He pondered this question, he noticed a daring, self-satisfied, and supremely confident look in her eyes. Free of embarrassment or confusion, this glance seemed to fall on him from above, even though their eyes were at the same level. That made him uncomfortable and even more hesitant. He wondered what lay behind it. So far as he could see it was inspired by a feeling of disdain or perhaps by a sense of sport — as though she were an adult looking at a child. There was also evidence of a feeling of superiority that could not be justified merely by the difference in age between them, for she was only two years older at the most. The towering mansion on Palaces Street might look down on the old house on Palace Walk in just this way. But why had he not glimpsed it in her eyes before? She had never been alone with him. This was the first time he had had an opportunity to look at her closely. These ideas hurt and saddened him, causing his intoxication to fade away.
Budur held her hands out to him asking to be picked up, and so he lifted her in his arms. Then A'fda said, "How amazing! Why does my little sister love you so much?"
Looking at her eyes, he answered, "Because I harbor the same amount of love for her, or even more."
A'ida asked skeptically, "Is that a law?"
"The proverb says, 'Hearts communicate directly with each other.'"
She rapped on the table as she inquired, "Suppose a beautiful girl is loved by many men — should she love all of them? What sense would your law make in this case?"
This enchanting discussion made him oblivious to everything including his troubles. He replied, "She should then love the one who loves her most sincerely."
"How can she pick him out from the others?"
"If only this conversation could last forever," he wished.
"I refer you once more to the proverb: 'Hearts communicate directly with each other.'"
Her brief laugh sounded like a string being plucked. She remarked defiantly, "If this were true, no sincere lover would ever be disappointed in love. Is that correct?"
Her statement shocked him, as though reality was catching up with a man who relied on logic alone. If his reasoning was right, he would have been the happiest person alive with his love and his beloved. But was he anywhere near that blissful state? The long history of his love had embraced some moments of deceptive hope. These had illuminated the dark corners of his heart with an imaginary happiness after a sweet smile granted by the beloved, a passing remark open to wishful interpretation, or a cheerful dream concluding a night of pensive insomnia. His fantasies had drawn strength from maximshe revered, like: "Hearts communicate directly with each other". Thus he had been able to cling to his false hope with all the determination of a desperate person, until reality brought him back to his senses with this sarcastic and definitive statement like bitter medicine. With it, he could cure his future of lying hopes and learn exactly where he stood.
When he offered no response to the question with which she had challenged him, his beloved tormentor cried out victoriously, "I win!"
Silence reigned once more. Again he heard the rustling of the branches, the whispering of the dry leaves, and the chirping of the sparrows, but this time they encountered the tepid response of a disappointed heart. He noticed that her eyes were scrutinizing him more keenly than necessary and that her glance was increasingly daring and self-confident, as though she were toying with him. She looked like anything but a woman engrossed in a romantic conversation. He felt a cold, gnawing sensation in his heart. He wondered whether he had been destined to be alone with her like this so h is dreams could be demolished in one blow.
She r oticed his anxiety and laughed carelessly. Pointing to his head, she teased him: "You don't seem to have started to let your hair grow out."
He said tersely, "No."
"That doesn't appeal to you?"
Grimacing scornfully, he answered, "No."
"We told you it would look better."
"Does a man have to look handsome?"
Astonished, she replied, "Everyone likes people to look nice, whether they're men or women."
He felt tempted to repeat one of the phraseshe had memorized, like: "The beauty of men is in their deeds," but realized that a statement of this kind coming from a person resembling him would only meet with sarcastic mockery from his beloved. He attempted to conceal hisheart's pain with a forced laugh and said, "I don't agree with you."
"Or perhaps you flee from beauty the way you flee from beer and ham."
He laughed to relieve his despair and grief Then she continued: "Hair is a natural covering. I believe your head needs it. Don't you realize that your head is very large?"
"The two-headed boy!' Have you forgotten that old taunt?" he asked himself. "What misery!"