What if escape were truly possible, if he really could leave for Syria? He imagined vast fields of hashish and saw himself cultivating the magnificent plant with the same hands that had strangled a young prostitute. Diabolical dream! — it lasted but an instant.
“Gohar Effendi!”
It was the plainclothes policeman summoning him. While continuing to fondle young Akila, he had turned toward Gohar as if to solicit an opinion of the utmost importance.
“I’m listening,” said Gohar.
The few customers scattered throughout the waiting room pricked up their ears. Everything that the plainclothes policeman said concerned them directly.
“Arnaba’s murder,” said the policeman, “reminds me of an old story that also took place in a whorehouse. I don’t know if you remember it. There was something strange about it that just came to me.”
The imbecile was going to talk to him about the crime again. Gohar coughed, took hold of his cane, then said with his usual courtesy, “Forgive me, but I don’t recall the incident.”
“It took place before the war. There was a lot of talk about it in the papers at the time. It concerned a prostitute stabbed to death with a knife. At the autopsy, the medical examiner stated that she was a virgin. The funny thing was that she had been plying her trade for almost twenty years. What do you say to that?”
“Unbelievable!”
“Isn’t it? I can’t stop thinking about it. A virgin whore! You can’t trust anybody, can you?”
“Even a whore’s ass holds surprises,” said Gohar. “It can astonish everyone.”
“Your philosophy enchants me. I see you are a man of the world.”
The policeman laughed coarsely, embraced his companion, and kissed her on the mouth like a wild beast. Akila, who was a sly little thing, excited him so much that he was panting visibly. Soon he could no longer resist and agreed to follow her into her room.
“See you later, Gohar Effendi!”
“At your service!”
“The wretch finally made up his mind!” Set Amina exulted. “At least he won’t enjoy himself at my place without paying.”
Gohar resumed his calculations, but he was touched by grace. Once again, tragedy was revealing its ridiculous side. Wasn’t there a peculiar drama in a murdered whore’s corpse turning out to be that of a virgin? Gohar had solved the enigma. Take this laughable world seriously? That had been his folly — long years of folly.
“I knew I would find you here, Master! I have something very serious to tell you.”
An extraordinary-looking El Kordi had appeared in the waiting room: his tarboosh was pulled down over his ears and the lower part of his face was covered with a handkerchief that he held firmly as if to stanch the blood from a wound.
“What’s wrong, my son? Are you injured?”
Now that he was sheltered from the vile stares of his tormentors, El Kordi removed the handkerchief, put it in his pocket, and sat down next to Gohar.
“No, I’m fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m simply trying not to be noticed.”
“Why the mystery?”
“I’ve been found out, Master! They know I’m a revolutionary.”
“Who?”
“The police, of course! They’re tailing me. I’m absolutely certain of it. Listen to me, Master. I took the streetcar to the European quarter this evening. It was incredibly crowded. I was completely crushed; I couldn’t move a finger. I was growing impatient when suddenly I noticed a man across from me watching me insistently. It was horrible. The man was one-eyed, and he was observing me with his bad eye. You can imagine my fright.”
“What makes you think he was a policeman? It may have been a one-eyed man and nothing more.”
“Let me finish. It’s a crazy story. When the ticket-taker came for our tickets, the man answered simply, no doubt from a stupid reflex, ‘Secret police.’”
“Very funny!” said Gohar. “I hope you broke out laughing.”
“How could I laugh, Master? I jumped off the moving streetcar right away.”
“But why were you going to the European quarter?” asked Gohar.
“I told you the other day. I have decided to do everything possible to get money. So I went to the European quarter to try to rob a jeweler on Avenue Fouad.”
“And did you succeed?”
“It’s not as easy as I thought,” El Kordi said bitterly. “I don’t think anyone could do it.”
Deep down, he was no longer thinking of the display window filled with inaccessible jewels but of his unsuccessful adventure with the young lady. She had wanted to take a cab. The insolent creature! For an instant, he was about to tell this story to Gohar, but he held back; he didn’t want Gohar to take him for a bogus revolutionary.
“Why do you need so much money?”
“It’s not for me, Master — I can live cheaply. But Naila is sick and I want to get her out of this damnable place. And besides, there are all the others.”
“What others? Do you have a family to support?”
“No, I don’t have a family. But I’m thinking of the oppressed, miserable people. Master, I can’t understand it. How can you remain insensitive to the machinations of those bastards who exploit the people? How can you deny that oppression exists?”
Gohar raised his voice to answer.
“I have never denied the existence of bastards, my son!”
“But you accept them. You do nothing to oppose them.”
“My silence is not acceptance. I oppose them more effectively than you.”
“How?”
“By noncooperation,” said Gohar. “I simply refuse to collaborate with this immense charade.”
“But an entire people cannot afford to have this negative attitude. They must work for a living. How can they not collaborate?”
“Let them all become beggars. Am I not a beggar? Once we have a country where the population is composed entirely of beggars, then you’ll see what will become of this arrogant domination. It will crumble into dust. Believe me.”
It was the first time El Kordi had heard Gohar speak in this tone of bitter violence. So Gohar had his own ideas about the way to overthrow this hateful power! Why had he never voiced them?
“But we are already a nation of beggars,” he said. “It seems to me that there is little more to do.”
“On the contrary. There is still much to do. There are still a lot of men like you who continue to collaborate.”
“You are wrong, Master! I hardly do anything. My presence at the ministry is almost a kind of sabotage.”
Gohar kept silent; he was unhappy with himself. The pomposity with which he had spoken reminded him too much of his university pedantry. What need had he to defend himself? Deny the existence of bastards? He who had abandoned everything, comfort and honors, so as no longer to have to mingle with such swine? What did El Kordi think? That he alone knew that the poor people were ruled by a band of shameless thieves? Even a child knew that.
However, he smiled at the young man.
“You know there’s a policeman here,” he said, intending to tease him. “At this moment he’s busy fornicating with little Akila.”
“By Allah!” said El Kordi. “I must be very careful from now on.”
He suddenly stood up, as if the place had become extremely unsafe.
“I’m sorry about the newspapers, Master! I’ll bring them to you tomorrow without fail.”
“Thank you, my son! They can wait.”
“Here, take this one. I’ve finished reading it.” And he gave Gohar the Greek paper.
Set Amina, who had been watching El Kordi all this time, suspecting him of some plot, sighed as she saw him approach.
“Is Naila in her room?”
“Yes, she’s with a customer. Let her work. Do you all want to ruin me?”
“You won’t be ruined today. Besides, here she is.”