Taher’s look pierced Karim like a dart. His heart bled, too. He was angry at his old friend for having reappeared to remind him of those dark times, which stank of pain and suffering. He had made his peace with this laughable, detestable world. He didn’t want to change anything; he took it for what it was, and its blind and lame inhabitants with it. It was like a giant gesture of love. He no longer believed in the impoverishment of the people. Was he rich? He was the poorest of the poor, and yet happy for it. Suddenly his feelings rebelled against this scowling ghost that had come from the past to rip away his joy, and in a provocative, proud voice he said:
“Yes, I’ve changed. And I’m glad of it.”
Taher leaped upon him. He grabbed him by the back of his jacket and held him against the parapet.
“Do you know that our comrades are imprisoned and tortured, while you’re out happily postering the walls of the city with praise for their executioner?”
“Listen, Taher! It’s not like I slept with your sister! What I did do, you’ll never get. But it’s the only way to fight the governor, believe me.”
“A funny way!” snickered Taher. “I know your master, you know. I’ve heard all about him. He’s the governor’s sort: a landlord who lives like a prince. What can he know about the pain of the people?”
“Leave him alone!” Karim shouted. “I love that man, understand! Believe me, not only will I never leave him, but if he asked me to, I’d die for him!”
Taher felt his blood drain away. The violence of Karim’s passion suffocated him; it was blasphemy. For him it was only possible to love the people. And because Karim was part of the people, he’d never completely lost his feelings of affection and confidence. He’d pardoned Karim’s turpitude, always hoping that their separation was only temporary, that Karim would be faithfully driven to the revolution once again. But now he saw how far his comrade had strayed — from him, from the idea for which he’d fought and suffered. Taher saw that he was acting in an entirely new universe, in which he was not only excluded but was an object of mockery. Jealousy pierced him, opening a gaping wound in his heart. The night was poisoned; neither the stars, nor the sea, nor the pearly necklace of streetlamps lighting the glittering curve of road could save him from the sharpness of this death. But this feeling only lasted for a moment — then the immanent reality of the revolution tore him out of his painful torpor. Morbid curiosity made him want to encounter this man whom Karim — full of hellish pride — placed higher than the oppressed people. If for only an instant he could confront him before Karim, he’d be able to destroy the idolatrous image set up in his comrade’s mind. He’d expose the vanity, the nihilism, the false seductiveness of this perfidious soul, who wallowed in luxury while proclaiming subversion, like a magician at a fair. Maybe then Karim would understand that he was deluded, that all these stupid initiatives for overthrowing the government were destined to fail, and he’d return to the respectable precepts of real combat. The idea was wildly tempting. In fact, he had no choice: he needed Karim for a hazardous exploit — one the revolution demanded — things he hadn’t dared to speak of yet. In his current state of mind Karim wouldn’t even have stopped to listen. Taher summoned up all his powers of persuasion; he was going to employ a subtler tactic than those he used to inspire revolutionary faith in a roomful of the unemployed.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said with surprising calm.
“What?”
“I’d like to meet this man you love so much. You and I go way back, and all I’m asking is for you to put me in touch with him — I want to speak with him.”
Karim smiled slightly, and his face relaxed; the request visibly enchanted him.
“With pleasure,” he said. “I’m sure that he’d like to meet you, too. You know, he’s very open-minded. He’s interested in every kind of human activity.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Taher, surprised by how easy it had been (and smelling a trap). Can you take me to him tonight?
“If you like. You’re in luck — I was planning to go see him. Taher, I hope that we can join forces again. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”
Just then the shadowy form of a patrolling policeman — he’d been slowly working his way along the length of the parapet — came to an abrupt halt in front of them. The two young men were startled. This representative of order looked like a hungry ogre in search of stray infants on the cliff road. They waited in silence for him to reveal the nature of their offense.
“Public assemblies are forbidden,” he growled. “Go on, walk!”
“But there are only two of us,” said Karim, delighted at this interruption.
“Two or a hundred, it’s all the same," the policeman went on. "Get going!”
He skulked away from them silently.
“Did you hear that son of a bitch!” Karim burst out.
“He’s just a poor sucker following orders,” said Taher. “It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know better. It’s up to us to teach him.”
“You really are crazy! Do you think I’m going to live a thousand years? I’ve only got one short life and you want me to spend it educating this gun-toting assassin?”
Taher shook his head sadly, like someone who no longer expects to be understood. He couldn’t wait to see Heykal and tell him face-to-face just what he thought of him.
“Well, let’s go,” he said. “But first I have to take these shoes to the cobbler.”
“At this time? Nothing’s open.”
“What do you think, that I’m going to leave my shoes with a capitalist cobbler! I have a friend who keeps his shop open all night — it’s one of our meeting spots. It’s not far from here; come with me.”
Karim made a gesture of assent, then slipped his arm through Taher’s and they set off. They crossed the road and made their way into the city’s sordid depths, leaving behind the cliff and its enchanted scenery.
Once the introductions had been made, the three of them sat in Heykal’s living room. They were silent, waiting for Siri, as slow and sleepy as ever, to serve them drinks. It took Siri a long, almost interminable time to acquit himself of his task, but nobody was paying any attention. They were too caught up with their extraordinary meeting to be distracted. Finally Siri set three glasses of rose water on the small low table, then left the room. But the silence refused to break.
Heykal observed Taher with the curiosity of an antiques dealer assessing a rare piece. He wasn’t displeased by the visit; it was an opportunity to thoroughly examine this old friend of Karim’s — one of the most dangerous revolutionaries in the city. He could tell Taher was ready to bite, but that he was still too polite to interrupt the silence with hostile words. He sat unhappily on the edge of his chair, as if ashamed to find himself in such contemptible company. There was no mistaking the glances he continued to shoot at Karim, as if holding him responsible for the whole painful situation. Heykal meant to wait patiently until Taher was thoroughly prepared to state his grievances. He was already fairly sure he knew what Taher had come all this way to find out, and he was curious to see him at work. What arguments would he bring to bear on Heykal’s perfect serenity? In this confrontation of two concepts, different both in essence and application, Taher had already lost. He was out of his element. Heykal felt a twinge of pity; the fight was plainly unequal. What aberration had led this caveman, this violent fanatic, to think that he could come here and get away with provoking Heykal? What was the temptation? Heykal grew positively dizzy at the thought that this stubborn, spiteful revolutionary had been unable to resist the magnetism of his scorn. Conscious of his own influence, he felt a flash of tenderness for his visitor, as if Taher had come bringing love instead of hatred.