They stopped where the casino’s private beach had been roped off. Soad sat on the rope pretending to swing. Heykal remained standing, looking at her, then sat down next to her and put his arm around her waist. From here the darkness seemed infinitely opaque; the only light was the glimmer of the stars reflected in the sea. The music had stopped, and with the sudden silence the faintly glowing buildings of the casino were plunged into a catastrophic remoteness. Heykal felt they were the only survivors in an annihilated world; suddenly possessed by a strange feeling of power, he pulled Soad firmly and desperately to him, as if to defend her even from death.
Then he let go and asked:
“Is your father here?”
“Yes, he’s with the governor. How’d it go tonight?”
“Very well. The posters will be up by tomorrow morning. The portrait of the governor is so good it’s frightening; it’s even more lethal than the accompanying text. What I’d like is for you to pay close attention to the governor’s reaction. Do your best!”
“That’s all I am to you, a spy,” she said, pouting. “You’re so cruel!”
It was partially true; Soad had often spied on the governor when he met with her father. The governor still thought of her as a young girl and had no qualms about divulging official secrets in her presence. There was a time when the two men’s conversations made the young girl yawn. She found it dull to hear them go on about such stupefyingly serious matters of state. But ever since she’d known Heykal, she’d become quite curious about all the things that the governor, thanks to his studied stupidity, carelessly let slip. Whenever she could (and it was to amuse herself as much as to please him), she’d report back to Heykal, revealing the details of the governor’s plots and plans.
She got up and stood before him imploring:
“Do you love me?”
Coming from the mouth of a little girl this banal question was especially poignant. Heykal felt sobered; he wouldn’t allow himself to be sucked down into love’s murky waters. What he felt for her was nothing like the ferocious passion she seemed to harbor for him. She mistook the real and incomparable complicity that bound them together for a mere sentimental bond, made up of nothing but platitudes and habit. But how could he explain the difference to her? She had no idea, and it would be cruel for him to disabuse her. She was a woman, after all, and he couldn’t ask her to deny her nature.
“Of course I love you,” he responded with a bitter, pained smile — smiling not at the lie but at the sadness he already felt knowing he’d lose her someday.
“What a man I have!” she cried out, thrilled. “The fact that a man like you even exists is a miracle!”
In her delight she jumped off the rope onto the sand, but Heykal grabbed her and made her sit next to him again. Then, caressing the back of her neck, he said:
“Listen, I have a job for you. The next time you come to see me, bring a typewriter. I’ll dictate a letter to you.”
“What are you plotting now? A new hoax?”
“Well, yes. I’m going to send a letter to all the papers asking them to set up a subscription to pay for a statue of the governor.”
Soad clapped her hands at the announcement of this plan; again she tried to stand up, wanting to demonstrate her enthusiasm, but Heykal held her down firmly and ordered her to remain calm.
“Listen,” he went on, “that’s not all. You’ve got a part to play in this. Do you know who’s going to sign this letter? Your father, the most eminent of the governor’s friends.”
“What a devil! How I love you!” She threw her arms around his neck and covered his face in tiny kisses.
“And I’ll need to see your father’s signature in order to imitate it. Can you get me one?”
“That’s easy. I’ll have him write me a check. It won’t be the first time — that’s how he gives me money.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Heykal. “I’m so proud! Ask him for a check made out to cash so I can include it with one of the letters. I’ll send that one to the most influential paper — it’ll make the letter all the more believable. After that, the rest of the papers will publish the letter without question.”
Soad suddenly doubled over, screeching with vicious laughter — the laughter of a woman scorned, seeking revenge.
“Ah! what a fool! If he only knew!”
“Who?” said Heykal.
“My father. Do you think he’ll commit suicide? Oh, I hope he does, I hope he does!”
“Your personal problems don’t interest me,” Heykal said. “You must understand that.”
The fierce hatred in the girl’s laugh reminded Heykal once again of the abyss between them. Women loved deliriously, but they hated with the violence of an unchained beast. And hatred was an emotion that Heykal lacked completely. His profound distrust of humanity in general made him loathe to dignify with his hate the buffoons who strutted around on the world’s stage, proudly proclaiming their crimes. He looked at the girl’s disappointed face; she seemed to be waiting for a word or a caress from him to renew her spirits. But he was silent. He was thinking about another face, a face of extraordinary serenity in which hatred had been abolished forever. All the tenderness in him went out toward the face of the old madwoman, Urfy’s mother. Her insanity was what he admired more than anything; she existed on a plane free of corruption, an extraterrestrial universe of inviolable purity, immune to the usual abominations. Heykal, who cared about nothing, was jealous of Urfy’s crazy mother, this sublime being buried in a basement in an unsavory part of town; the schoolmaster possessed the one thing that could actually move Heykal. He had to hide it from Urfy, painfully aware as he was that his friend would never understand such a special veneration. He knew that Urfy secretly reproached him for his frequent visits to the old woman’s room, that he suspected him of a diabolical regard for his mother. How could he know that these were Heykal’s only moments of true feeling, when his devotion and kindness flowed freely and he was capable, at last, of boundless self-sacrifice? Faced with this old madwoman, a human reject, he was blinded by tears of tenderness and love. But he would rather endure Urfy’s terrible suspicions than confess to the infinite sweetness of those moments when he gave in to the force of that sad face. The situation was awkward, and it troubled him so much that he’d greatly reduced the frequency of his visits to the old lady. Now just the thought of her face — like a martyred child’s — could trigger the tremor in his soul that had become indispensable to his happiness.
There was a hint of unrest in Heykal’s silence, and Soad instinctively picked up on it. She fidgeted on the rope, sighing, anxious for him to come back to her. The music picked up again in the distance, bright and clear in the night.
“Why don’t we go dance,” she finally said. “My father is busy with the governor, he won’t notice a thing. It’s been so long since I’ve danced with you.”
“No, it’s impossible,” said Heykal. “Go back to your father. I’ve got to go to the casino.”
“Will I see you after?”
“I’ll come to the disco — but not for long. I have things to do tonight.”
“I know what you have to do.” She glanced at him with complicity and added a tragic pout.
“Don’t be jealous,” said Heykal, laughing.
“I’m not jealous now. But I warn you, I will be when I’m older.”
“But you’re already old enough,” said Heykal, teasing her. “You’re almost seventeen!”
“Dirty old man!”
She was going to whimper again, but Heykal got up to leave. Soad flung herself at him, slapping him and trying to kiss him at the same time. With consummate skill — and a battery of false promises — he managed to disentangle himself. Then he crossed the promenade and turned left, toward the casino.