He avoided her eyes. Pained and embarrassed, he was still determined not to retreat. “My situation,” he said, “is too difficult for you to understand. I’ve got to struggle on, come what may.”
Suddenly her tone became soft. Flushing, she said to him beseechingly, “If this is the only reason, I’m ready to share your struggle.”
This new approach made him ill at ease. “The struggle will be long, hard to endure.”
Continuing in the same tone, she said, “Never mind. But I beg you to declare our engagement in the usual way.”
This sudden drift in the conversation after it had almost come to an end caught him unawares; he was overcome by fear, irritation, and worry. “No!” he exclaimed involuntarily.
Stunned, she stared at him. She lowered her eyes desperately, her face flushed. She opened and closed her lips again and again as if she wanted to speak but could not.
“Don’t you see?” she murmured. “I was right when I said you wanted to get rid of me.”
Overtaken by a kind of confusion he had never experienced before, he fell into deep silence. Then, as if apologetically, he said, “I’m very, very sorry. Perhaps someday you will be able to forgive me.”
“That’s enough,” she said, fatigued and defeated. “I don’t want to hear another word.”
A deep silence fell on the room as if infesting it with an incurable, suffocating disease. Despite his anguish and embarrassment, the young man found solace in this silence, confident that eventually, no matter how long it took, his pain was bound to end. And when it did, he would feel free. He cast a secretive glance at her. What, he wondered, was passing through her mind? Did she still want him? Or did she hate him? Or did she want to avenge herself upon him? What were their mothers speaking about, and how would their long conversation end?
Only I, he thought, and nobody else, can determine my destiny. He heard the voices of the two women approaching. In sudden anxiety, his heart beat fast, accelerating as they returned contentedly to their places. There was a knock on the door. Nefisa entered and Hussein returned to the room; this diversion restored part of his calm. Despite Bahia’s obviously sullen mood, the conversation took the usual course until the visit ended.
SEVENTY-NINE
Hassanein looked anxiously and inquiringly at his mother. She understood that he wanted to know about her conversation with Bahia’s mother. Her glance was cool.
“Bahia’s mother spoke to me,” she said, “about the need for an official declaration of the engagement, and I ultimately approved.”
Frowning angrily, the young man struck the palm of one hand against the other. “Mother, you were too hasty!”
Seeing that his words astonished his mother, he added, “Of course, I don’t blame you. But I’ve broken off the engagement.”
All eyes stared incredulously at him.
“What are you saying?” his mother inquired.
Stressing each word as it came out of his mouth, he answered, “Today, right now, I’ve broken off the engagement. When they left us, Bahia knew that everything between us was over.”
“Brother, what is this you’re saying?” Hussein worriedly exclaimed. “How did it happen?”
“I’m amazed at your words,” his mother said. “I understand nothing. Did any misunderstanding flare up between you and Bahia? When? How?”
Nefisa stopped in the middle of taking off her shoes. “Speak, Hassanein,” she said. “This news is most surprising, to say the least.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t just a short time ago that I decided to break off the engagement,” the young man said grimly. “But I didn’t want to tell anybody about it. Today, alone with her in this room, I found it imperative to tell her. So everything is over now. Please, all of you, don’t ask me about what we said. This concerns nobody but us.”
“This must have been a cruel shock to the poor girl,” Hussein said. “I hope you have good reasons to justify this dreadful decision.”
“What a scandal!” the worried mother declared. “I reached an agreement with the girl’s mother at the very moment you annulled it. What will the woman think of me? Will she suspect that I knew your intentions and that I was deceiving her all along? What did you do, my son? What is the reason for all this? And what’s wrong with the girl?”
Annoyed at the conversation, Nefisa cried sharply, “Let’s hear what the young man concerned has to say.”
“Bahia is a faultless girl,” Hassanein said to his mother. “But I realized quite clearly that she couldn’t be the ideal wife for me.”
“You’ve been engaged for three years,” his mother said. “How can you possibly desert her without good reason?”
Shaking his head, Hussein supported his mother. “That’s right,” he said. “Breaking off an engagement is a dreadful thing. It shouldn’t happen without good reason!”
“What made you think she’s not the ideal wife for you?” Nefisa asked.
“Bahia just isn’t fit to be my wife,” Hassanein said with annoyance. “Sure, I chose her myself. But at that time I didn’t know she wasn’t for me.”
“Bahia is a polite, beautiful girl,” the worried mother replied. “Besides, we can never forget her father’s help to us.”
“Your judgment surprises me,” Hussein said disapprovingly. “What is your idea of a good wife?”
“I want a wife from a higher class, cultured and reasonably wealthy,” Hassanein said after a pause.
“So these are your reasons for breaking your promises?” Hussein inquired in the same tone.
“We’re poor and Bahia is almost as poor as we are,” Hassanein sighed. “If I should die as my father did, before my time, I’m afraid I’d leave my sons, as my father left us, to the same cruel poverty.”
“You’re right,” Nefisa said with enthusiasm.
Hussein was angered by his sister’s enthusiasm. “Have you considered the serious consequences of the step you’re taking?” he demanded.
“I’m extremely sorry about this,” Hassanein replied. “But I don’t approve of wasting my life.”
“All the same, you approve of wasting hers?”
“Her life won’t be wasted. She’s still in the prime of her youth, and she’s got a brilliant future ahead of her.”
“Would you allow me,” Hussein said angrily, “to describe your behavior for what it really is?”
Hassanein looked at him sullenly.
Hussein shook his head, disturbed. “I wonder,” he said, “how you can condemn Hassan’s behavior when there’s no justification for yours?”
The young man turned pale. “No doubt,” he answered sharply, “my behavior is not without its cruelty. But it will all end well for both parties. Anyhow, this is far better than an unsuccessful marriage.”
Hussein turned his face away in desperation.
Striking the palm of one hand against the other, their mother murmured, “What a terrible offense to this most good-hearted family! Oh, God! How can I hide my shame?”
Her words were sincere, but actually she felt a deep inner relief. She was afraid that Hassanein’s precipitous marriage would reduce the family to its former state of worry and insecurity. Wondering about Nefisa’s future, she invariably became fearful and sad. But despite her sense of inner relief, she thought of Farid Effendi’s family with pain and shame.
Unable to conceal her real feelings, Nefisa said, “Don’t worry about Bahia. She’ll soon find a husband.”
“The same generally applies to every girl,” Hussein said. “But it’s no defense for our mistakes.”
“It doesn’t apply to every girl,” Nefisa said, “and the proof is that it doesn’t apply to me, your sister.”
Her irony relieved the pervading tension. Hassanein seized the opportunity to exclaim enthusiastically, “Isn’t it better to choose a special kind of wife, such as Ahmad Bey Yousri’s daughter, for example?”
“God has the power to grant the wishes of His creatures,” Nefisa said gaily. “Who knows? P
erhaps one day you’ll be living in a respectable villa and we’ll continue to have your help and kindness.”
Hussein paid no attention to the remarks of his brother and sister. Their mother said, as if to herself, “This evening Farid Effendi will know everything. What will he say about us? I wish I could muster up enough courage to visit them and apologize to them!”
Pondering at length, Hussein murmured calmly but firmly, “I’ve got that kind of courage.”
All were interested.
“Would you really go?” Nefisa asked him. “And what would you say to them?”
“God will inspire me on the spur of the moment with something suitable to say,” the young man answered with a frown. “Oh, God! Surely there’s some impurity in our blood.”
He put on his clothes and left the flat.
EIGHTY
Hussein did not go directly to his destination, but went first to a coffeehouse in Heliopolis, where he sat for an hour thinking the matter over. His thoughts wandered from the memories of the past to the events of the present. For a long time, he probed his mind and heart, then came to a decision. Putting aside all doubts and fears that caused him to waver, he became unusually bold, firm, and decisive, so much so that he marveled at his speed in reaching the decision. Did he arrive at this decision on the spur of the moment or did it result from an accumulation of his own deep sentiments over a period of three years? Somewhat confused, he reviewed all the various perspectives. Now, nothing could deter him from his determined course. He rose and left his place with mixed feelings, vacillating from an expansive kind of pleasure to a gripping worry to a bountiful spirit of adventure. Proceeding to the alley, he easily reached it by the evening. Now, as he approached their old house, he realized how difficult and embarrassing his mission was. Yet he advanced with steady steps and an unflinching determination. With a beating heart, he knocked on the door. The astonished glance of the servant who opened it for him irritated him. She showed him to the sitting room. Farid Effendi entered, his body sagging, his face sad for the first time, his eyes burning with anger. No sooner did the host finish with the customary complimentary salutations on receiving a guest than he exclaimed in a paroxysm of passion, “Our lifelong friendship, our lifelong neighborliness, and our lifelong companionship! In one moment you’ve torn all these to shreds!”
Confounded, Hussein looked at the table in front of him. “Our old mutual feelings of affection can never change,” he murmured in a low voice. “Nor can we forget as long as we live your splendid character and your assistance to us.”
Paying no attention, Farid Effendi continued, striking one palm against the other. “When they told me about it, I couldn’t believe my ears. My heart refuses to believe that such disgraceful treachery is possible.”
“Sir, what you say is justified. But believe me, we found it just as hard to believe as you. My mother is deeply upset.”
Still paying no heed, Farid Effendi went on. “I noticed that he didn’t visit us as frequently as before. And to explain this change of attitude, they put forward childish excuses, which made me more pessimistic. This evening I learned that he had openly breached his promise. How amazing! Does he imagine that girls of good families are mere toys in his hands, to be disposed of any way he likes? So he gets engaged as he pleases and breaks engagements as he pleases! I have always treated him like a son, and it never occurred to me that he could be so wicked and so treacherous!”
Acutely embarrassed, Hussein began to advance whatever came to his mind in defense of his brother: “My brother is a rash young man, and this business of Hassan made him go out of his mind.”
“But are we at fault?” the man asked. “This is an incomprehensible excuse!”
“What I mean is, the disaster so shook his nerves and impaired his judgment that he was sick of the whole world.”
Violently waving his hand, the man said indignantly, “What you say is unconvincing. I’m a man of some experience, and I know that a man does not desert his fiancée for such a reason. Tell me a different story if you want me to believe you. Say now that he’s an officer he wants to marry a different sort of girl.”
“With all my heart I wish I could repair the damage,” Hussein said sadly.
“The damage is beyond repair. What has happened doesn’t become honorable people. Had I been a different man I would have chastised him. But thank God that, after his deceiving me for so long, I’ve discovered what kind of person he is. He’s only a mean and cowardly young man. Excuse me for blurting out the truth so bluntly.”
Pained by the man’s words, Hussein kept his eyes lowered for a long time. “I’m extremely sorry,” he said in a feeble voice. “We’re all sorry. Our only wish is to preserve our old affections.”
Silence prevailed, until Farid Effendi murmured coolly, “You were never deceptive in your dealings with us.”
Still tense and worried, Hussein recalled with an agitated heart the decision he had made before his arrival. He wondered whether now was the right time to declare it. Although Farid Effendi’s attitude was not encouraging, Hussein refused to put it off any longer. Looking at the man with searching eyes, he inquired, “May I see Miss Bahia?”
The man violently waved his hand. “What for?” he queried. “Leave her alone. Under the circumstances, this is the only thing to do.”
Moved, Hussein wondered what the poor girl might be doing and how her tender nature would receive the shock. What should he do himself? Should he proceed or withdraw? Wouldn’t his words sound ridiculous in this electrified atmosphere? But he had a deep-seated feeling that if, at this particular moment, he allowed himself to retreat, he would never carry out his plan. Dispelling his hesitation with a deep sigh, he attempted to conceal his confusion.
“Sir,” he said with apparent calm, “I don’t know how to express my feelings. Nor do I pretend that I’ve chosen a suitable time for expressing them. But I can’t help saying a final word in this matter; that is, I hope one day you’ll bless my honest desire to ask for your daughter Bahia’s hand.”
Astonished, the man’s eyes opened wide. He appeared to have expected anything but this proposal. He seemed anxious, but unable to speak, whereas Hussein, having survived the climax of his confusion, recovered a degree of his calm.
“Don’t imagine,” he said, “that my request results from a feeling of guilt over my brother’s behavior. Nor is it from pity for Miss Bahia. No. I swear this isn’t the case. My own, my independent, unconditional desire grows out of my esteem for your daughter and yourself.”
Farid Effendi’s astonishment continued. Hussein found courage and warmth in his silence as well as in his own volubility.
“Only one thing disturbs me about this request,” Hussein went on. “Perhaps I’m not her equal.”
Breaking his silence for the first time, the man murmured, “Don’t belittle yourself, Hussein Effendi. You’re like a son to me.”
“Thank you,” Hussein said, flushing.
Perplexed, the man pondered for a while. “I should thank you for this request,” he said. “God only knows how much it would please me to see it fulfilled. But, you know, this isn’t the proper time to discuss it.”
“Sir, this is quite natural,” Hussein said with enthusiasm. “I can wait until the proper time comes.”
With this remark, their conversation came to an end.
EIGHTY-ONE
Deeply absorbed in his thoughts, Hussein returned to Heliopolis. On his journey from Farid Effendi’s flat, he reviewed once more a long stretch of his forgotten past as he had in the coffeehouse. Despite his perplexity, Hussein experienced hope and pleasure he had never known before. Formerly, he had been in love with Bahia. But this love was nipped in the bud and nothing remained of it in his prudent, faithful heart except an image of her as the ideal of the good wife. He remembered how much he had patiently suffered. From his frustrated love, he had learned that, with a measure of wisdom, it was possible to derive lofty, sublime pleasures even from p
ain itself. He came out of this experience with a tranquil heart and a serene smile on his face. He was consoled and his suffering relieved by the thought that confronting the misfortunes of life with patience and forbearance was a golden road to good fortune. Now his old, buried love had revived in his heart as if it had never died out for a single moment. Thus he set out in a kind of ecstasy, and finally reached home. He found them all waiting for him. At once they exclaimed, “What happened?”
To prepare them for his strange piece of news, he thought it best to exaggerate the gravity of the situation. Sorrowfully wringing his hands, he said, “They were so distressed that, in shame, I kept to myself. And for the first time in my life I saw the peaceful, meek Farid Effendi in a rage of blind fury.”
“Tell me everything that happened,” the mother said sorrowfully. “Did you meet Bahia’s mother?”
“No, I only met the man. Before I opened my mouth, he lashed out at me with a storm of reproofs.”
Hussein repeated the man’s words, omitting his biting accusations but adding all the paraphernalia of pathos to stir their sorrow and sympathy. Except for Nefisa, all were moved, sullen, and ashamed. “You shouldn’t have gone to see them tonight,” Nefisa said. “Anyhow, the responsibility for the first mistake lies with the man who accepted a schoolboy as his daughter’s fiancée. Then all his guile in bringing the engagement about. As I see it, Hassanein isn’t to blame. As I said, he was only an inexperienced schoolboy, ignorant of the ways of the world.”
Determined to finish what he had to say, Hussein spoke calmly to his sister. “Please speak kindly of the girl. She might be your other brother’s fiancée.”
Astounded, they all stared at him. Nefisa gave a quick sigh and Hassanein inquired, “What are you talking about?”
Exerting all his willpower to control his confusion, Hussein said, “She may be my fiancée.”