Knowing that he must speak, Hussein replied beseechingly, “There is nothing I can add to the detailed account I’ve already given you of our family circumstances.”
Sounding bored, the man said, “Your brother will be finishing his studies at the beginning of next summer.”
“But as far as I can see, he is determined to continue his education.”
The man became annoyed. “This is a silly idea to which you must not submit and you must not bear responsibility for it,” he said.
Seeking to avert this danger, Hussein was as evasive as a mouse hiding itself uselessly behind the leg of a chair.
“I can announce the engagement right now on condition that I can wait for a period of time before I marry,” he said.
“For how many years?” Hassan Effendi asked warmly.
Oh! The man thought that he was concerned only for his brother; he was almost unaware of Nefisa and her problem. Hussein genuinely wished he could blurt out the whole truth to him. Extremely fearful, he answered, “Four years.” Hussein looked at him to see the effect of this declaration. “Waiting will do us no harm. Don’t you trust me?” he said hurriedly.
Making a wry face, the man shook his head. “Four years!” he said with dreadful calm. “Who knows whether by then we’ll be alive? Do you want me to tell her mother that I’ve refused her cousin, who wants to marry her now, to keep her waiting four years more? Hussein Effendi, it seems to me you weren’t serious about your desire!”
Shaking in his agony, Hussein shouted, “May God forgive you, Hassan Effendi! I’m a faithful man and I still stick to my honest purpose. I see no reason why any obstacle should get in our way.”
“You simply don’t see the reason because you’re in the position of neither a father nor a mother. Now, put all arguments aside. Can’t you get married this year?”
A long silence prevailed. But Hussein uttered not a word. He had nothing to say. For a long time he remained both thoughtful and perplexed. Desperate and defeated, he pressed his lips. Hassan Effendi smiled faintly, compressing his lips in turn, his small oval face anguished and immobile. A long, strained silence fell upon them, and an odor of unfriendliness, intolerable to their nerves, spread like the hot dust carried by the winds of the khamsin, which blew up off the desert. However, Hussein, not bearing to take the first step in cutting off relations, asked dejectedly, as though predicting the answer, “Can’t you wait?”
“No,” the man nervously replied.
Embarrassed and pained, Hussein remained for a while. Then, taking his leave, he rose and departed. So intense was his sadness and despair that he left the flat with unseeing eyes, knowing that never again would he return to it. Back in his room, he lit the kerosene lamp and flung himself on the bed. He viewed everything around him with discontent and hostility. At this moment he hated not only himself but humanity at large. Am I weak or strong? he thought. What have I done with myself? Is it daring and courage or just contemptible flight? Everything appears detestable to me; I’ll be leaving this room, with the lonely room at the hotel waiting to engulf me. Perhaps the man imagines that he can annoy me in my work at school! Damn him; he will find me tougher than he thinks. But of what use is it all? Death is more merciful than hope itself! There is nothing surprising in this, for death is divinely appointed, while hope is the creation of human folly. Both end in frustration. Am I destined to lead a life of endless frustration? Why doesn’t Hassanein get a job on the baccalaureate? Why doesn’t he want for me what he wants for himself?
He became extremely vexed. Finding his loneliness intolerable, he took his suit from the peg, dressed, and left the house. The night was cold. He continued to roam the streets until he tired of walking, and finally went to a coffeehouse. Unexpectedly invigorated by the walk and the cold air, and calmer than before, he took a seat in the café. To pass the time, he watched the people sitting in the coffeehouse, listening to whatever scraps of their conversations reached his ears. These were not devoid of amusing remarks that made him smile. His mad fury subsided, leaving him in deep but mute sorrow, tinged with remorse. He wondered whether he should have agreed with the man. But would this man have been pleased if he had left his own family to the mercy of fate?! He realized his own folly, that he had a right to be sorrowful but no right to feel so furiously angry. Besides, it was foolish to surrender to sorrow. He knew that as long as he allowed irrationality to sway him he could not banish sorrow from his life, not for a long time to come. All the same, he believed that ultimately everything would come to an end. Even this choking sorrow would eventually be relieved. Like a person attempting to shake off a nightmare, he awaited this relief. Life’s miseries had taught him that one day it was bound to come. And when it came, he would experience no regret, but would have every reason for pride and the peace of an easy conscience. His sense of duty outweighed all his other emotions. How wide of the mark was Hassan’s accusation that he was fearful! To him it was enough that his mother understood him and considered him her hope and her consolation. Suffering in the pain of his present grief, he smiled at the prospect of hope.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Along about midsummer there came a happy day in the life of the family inhabiting Nasr Allah alley. Hassanein had passed the baccalaureate examinations. Calm and serene, Samira, Nefisa, and Hassanein gathered to spend a peaceful hour, their tired hearts overflowing with joy. Farid Effendi Mohammed and his family came to congratulate Hassanein on his success. In his fiancée’s presence, Hassanein experienced a complacent feeling of innocent pride, as though the baccalaureate had lent him further manliness, deserving both her respect and sympathy. Merry and pleasant as usual, he spoke with animation, ecstatically triumphant, and volleys of laughter rocketed from his mouth. The sight of Bahia filled his heart with a mixture of happiness and sorrow. It delighted him furtively to meet her clear, serene eyes and to read in them evidence of profound and refined love. However, the serenity he derived from her glances was slight, for it soon gave way to the flames of passion flaring up in his heart. When these arose, he grew indignant as he remembered his long deprivation and looked back with regret and sorrow over the past two years. Casting surreptitious glances at her during the conversation, his amorous eyes fixed intently on her moonlike face and plump body. As was his frequent custom, he formed a mental picture of her completely naked, with only her hair flowing down her back. As he pictured her thus, he felt his boiling saliva scorching his mouth. Mutely he wondered whether her attitude toward him could possibly change now that he had obtained the baccalaureate! Would it not be fair to grant him a kiss by way of congratulation? As his thoughts shifted from one object to another, his mind flitted from the girl to his mental image of her naked body, then to the people gathering around. Though the general atmosphere was pervaded with complete happiness, his own was tainted with the relentless torture imposed by her presence.
The guests departed. Left to themselves, the mood of pure delight now was gone, and the family was assaulted by a new sense of responsibility. Life had taught them that obtaining the baccalaureate was a source of transient happiness to be followed by troubled reflection. They were already agreed that Hassanein should continue onto higher education, but they were still undecided about the kind of education he should pursue.
“Now you have to choose the profession you want for yourself,” Nefisa said.
Hassanein had thoroughly probed this matter. “Higher education,” he said, “is a long, arduous process, and its prospects are vague.”