'My gaze was drawn irresistibly to her allure — while from her vocal cords issued the sort of honeyed tones that take a lot of effort to get past the censors!'
'Deluded fantasy,' said Ali. 'It was a normal conversation — conducted in a normal voice.'
'But you were engrossed in a heated discussion with a film director, on the point of clinching a deal — '
Ali laughed loudly. 'That was about a case of whiskey, nothing else. Which will shortly be consumed by the people on this infernal houseboat.'
'And was it confined to honeyed tones?' asked Mustafa Rashid.
'What more can you expect from an almost formal occasion? But even so, the serious miss was swathed in a veil of femininity, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower — or Amm Abduh doing the rounds of his street girls!'
Sana's voice sounded like the top string of a zither when the player strikes it by accident. 'What a magician you are,' she said.
He smiled at her — a faint smile, which in the pallid blue light looked like a grimace. 'My dear little thing,' he said.
'I'm not little, if you don't mind!' she snapped.
'Little in years, but how great in… in stature — '
'Oh, spare me cliches that were old in the days of the Mameluke sultans!'
Ali sighed. 'Oh to be in the Mameluke age — as long as we could be sultans, of course.'
Sana replied, with undisguised dislike: 'And oh how quickly the people on this boat turn into heartless beasts!'
But beasts do have hearts. And they are only savage when faced by enemies. I will not forget the whale as it retreated from the boat, telling me: _I am the whale who saved Jonah._ How many millions and millions of eyes have gazed at the Nile lying still in the moonlight. No better sign of Samara's sincerity than the passage of migrating birds. And as for poor Sana, she has forgotten about the cave dwellers in the age of her first youth…
'This tobacco!' Anis cried. 'It's burning like paper!' And he wrapped it in a handkerchief to squeeze it down, all the while taking part in the Japan Olympics, running races and lifting weights and setting new world records. Then the telephone rang.
Ragab rose to answer it as if he was expecting a call. Anis could not hear what he was saying, apart from isolated phrases such as 'Of course' and 'Right away.' He replaced the receiver and turned to the company. 'If you will excuse me,' he said; and turning to Sana: 'I might be back at the end of the evening.' And with that, he left. The houseboat shook under his powerful tread.
Sana twitched. It seemed to the others that she was almost in tears. Nobody said a word. Everyone looked questioningly — but Ali shook his head.
At last Mustafa addressed Sana, speaking to her gently. 'Don't. The romantic era is long gone. It's the age of realism now.'
And Layla said, concealing a gloating smile: 'It is an accepted rule here — nothing is worth regretting…'
'Hang romanticism! And regrets!' cried Sana vehemently.
'He has gone to meet a producer, I assure you,' said Ali. 'But you really should bear in mind that your friend is a professional ladies' man!'
Ahmad stood up. 'I'll bring you a whiskey,' he said. 'But do try to pull yourself together.'
Then Saniya spoke. She was startlingly blunt. 'And if worse comes to worst,' she said, 'you've still got Ahmad and Mustafa!'
'And what about me, you bastards!' shouted Anis wildly; and then he added roughly, spitting the words out: 'Dissipated, addicted wretches!'
Everyone convulsed with laughter. 'Do you think he's really gone to see Samara?' Mustafa wondered.
'No, no, no,' said Ali.
'It wouldn't be unusual for him to be after a woman!'
'Would somebody please tell me,' asked Layla, 'why on earth she came here if it wasn't because of him?'
'Nothing's impossible, I admit,' said Ali. 'But Samara is not a naive young girl. I don't think she would be satisfied with being a nine-day wonder.'
'What is it that makes some men so incredibly presumptuous?' Mustafa wondered.
'Well, any star in his position is bound to have a certain charisma.'
'It isn't just the aura of a star, or even elegance and good looks; he is simply sexuality itself!'
'Oh, let the women speak about that,' said Ahmad. But Ali went on: 'Women fall in love, but they don't say why!'
'In that case,' advised Khalid, 'consult your pituitary gland.'
Sana took a mattress and went out onto the balcony to sit on her own. 'Is she the feminine ideal you are searching for?' Ali asked Mustafa, surreptitiously indicating Sana. Mustafa tersely replied that she was not.
'The permissive society!' said Khalid. 'Free love! It's the only remedy for all these ills.'
'Damn you all,' Anis said suddenly. 'It is you who are responsible for the decline of Roman civilization.'
Everyone roared. 'You're unusually touchy tonight!' Ahmad observed of him.
'This filthy tobacco.'
'But it is often like that.'
'What about the moon?' Anis asked. 'Do you know what part it plays in the comedy?'
'What comedy?'
'The comedy of comedies!'
The water pipe circulated without ceasing. They were silent, to collect their scattered thoughts. There were no more accusations to make. History? The future? It was all nothing. Neither more nor less. Zero. Miracle of miracles. The unknown was revealed in the moonlight. Amm Abduh's voice came from outside, as he chanted words that no one could make out. Somebody laughed; and somebody else said that it was amazing how quickly the time had passed. They could hear the waves lapping against the bottom of the boat. Yes indeed, the part played by the moon in all this… And the part played by the ox, blindfolded at the waterwheel. One day the sheikh said to me: 'You love aggression, and God does not love aggressors,' as the blood poured from my nose. Or perhaps the sheikh had said that to the other man, and perhaps the blood had been pouring from his nose. How can you trust in anything after that? And then the same voice said: 'Amazing how quickly the time has passed.'
Ahmad sighed. 'Time to go,' he said.
That is the death knell of our evenings. An indolent activity spread among them, and then Ahmad and Mustafa left, followed by Khalid and Layla. Ali and Saniya, however, slipped into the bedroom overlooking the garden. Amm Abduh came to tidy up the room, and Anis complained to him about the quality of the tobacco. The old man replied that there was nothing except bad tobacco on the market.
A sneeze came from the balcony. Anis suddenly remembered Sana. He crawled out to the balcony on all fours. Then he leaned against the rail, stretching his legs out in front of him. 'Beautiful evening,' he murmured. The moonlight had retreated from the balcony to the other side of the boat, toward the road, drawing its glittering carpet behind it.
'Do you think he will come back?' she asked.
'Who?'
'Ragab!'
'How miserable it is, to be asked a question one cannot answer!'
'He said that he might come back at the end of the evening.'
'Might.'
'Am I annoying you?'
'Of course not!'
'Do you think I should wait?'
Anis gave a light laugh. 'People have been waiting for their saviors for a thousand years.'
'Are you laughing at me, like them?'
'Nobody is laughing at you. It's just their way of talking.'
'In any case, you're the nicest.'
'Me!'
