the same bit of sky the Sheikh was looking at so he could see what it was that made him smile. But the wish was unfulfilled.
Let the Sheikh smile and keep his secret, he thought. Before long the disciples would be here and some of them who'd seen the picture in the paper might recognize him; thousands and thousands would be gaping at his picture now, in a mixture of terror and titillation. Said's life was finished, spent to no purpose; he was a hunted man and would be to the end of his days; he was alone, and would have to beware even of his own reflection in a mirror — alive but without real life. Like a mummy. He'd have to flee like a rat from one hole to another, threatened by poison, cats and the clubs of disgusted human beings, suffering all this while his enemies kicked up their heels.
The Sheikh turned to him, saying gently, 'You are tired. Go and wash your face.'
'Yes,' Said said irritably, folding up the paper. 'I'll go — and relieve you of the sight of my face.'
With even greater gentleness, the Sheikh said, 'This is your home.'
'True, but why shouldn't I have another place to shelter?'
The Sheikh bowed his head, replying, 'If you had another you would never have come to me.'
You must go up the hill and stay there until dark. Avoid the light. Shelter in the dark.
Hell, it's all a waste of time. You've killed Shaban Husayn; I wonder who you are, Shaban. We never knew each other. Did you have children? Did you ever imagine that one day you would be killed for no reason — that you'd be killed because Nabawiyya Sulayman married Ilish Sidra? That you'd be killed in error, but that Ilish, Nabawiyya, and Rauf would not be killed in justice? I, the murderer, understand nothing. Not even Sheikh al-Junaydi himself can understand anything. I've tried to solve part of the riddle, but have only succeeded in unearthing an even greater one. He sighed aloud.
'How tired you are,' said the Sheikh.
'And it is your world that makes me tired!'
'That is what we sing of, sometimes,' the Sheikh said placidly.
Said rose, then said, as he was about to go, 'Farewell, my Master.'
'Utterly meaningless words, whatever you intend by them,' the Sheikh remonstrated. 'Say rather: until we meet again.'
NINE
God, it's dark! I'd be better off as a bat. Why is that smell of hot fat seeping out from under some door at this hour of night? When will Nur be back? Will she come alone? And can I stay in her flat long enough to be forgotten? You might perhaps be thinking you've got rid of me forever now, Rauf! But with this revolver, if I have any luck, I can do wonderful things. With this revolver I can awake those who are asleep. They're the root of the trouble: They're the ones who've made creatures like Nabawiyya, Ilish and Rauf Ilwan possible.
Something sounded like footsteps climbing the stairs. When he was sure he heard someone coming, he crouched and looked down through the banisters. A faint light was moving slowly along the wall. The light of a match, he thought. The footsteps came higher, heavy and slow. To let her know he was there and to avoid surprising her, he cleared his throat with a loud rasp.
'Who is it?' she said apprehensively.
Said leaned his head out between the banisters as far as he could and replied in a whisper, 'Said Mahran.'
She ran the rest of the way up and stopped in front of him out of breath. The match was almost dead.
'It's you!' she said, breathless and happy, seizing his arm. 'I'm sorry. Have you been waiting long?'
Opening the door to the flat, she led him in by the arm, switched on the light in a bare rectangular hall, then drew him into a reception room, square and somewhat larger, where she rushed to the window and flung it open wide to release the stifling air.
'It was midnight when I got here,' he said, flinging himself down on one of two sofas, that stood face to face. 'I've waited for ages.'
She sat down opposite, moving a pile of scraps of cloth and dress cuttings. 'You know what?' she said, 'I'd given up hope. I didn't think you'd really come.'
Their tired eyes met. 'Even after my definite promise?' he said, hiding his frozen feelings with a smile. She smiled back faintly, without answering. Then she said, 'Yesterday they kept questioning me at the police station over and over. They nearly killed me.
Where's the car?'
'I thought I'd better dump it somewhere, even though I need it.' He took off his jacket and tossed it down on the sofa next to him. His brown shirt was caked with sweat and dust: 'They'll find it and give it back to its owner, as you'd expect of a government that favors some thieves more than others.'
'What did you do with it yesterday?'
'Nothing whatever, in fact. Anyway, you'll know everything at the proper time.' He gazed at the open window, took a deep breath, and said, 'It must face north. Really fresh air.'
'It's open country from here to Bab al Noor. All around here is the cemetery.'
'That's why the air isn't polluted,' he said with a grin. She's looking at you as if she could eat you up, but you only feel bored, annoyed. Why can't you stop brooding over your wounded pride and enjoy her?
'I'm terribly sorry you had to wait so long on the landing.'
'Well, I'm going to be your guest for quite some time,' he said, giving her a strange, scrutinizing look.
She lifted her head, raised her chin and said happily, 'Stay here all your life, if you like.'
'Until I move over to the neighbors!' he said with another grin, pointing through the window. She seemed preoccupied. She didn't seem to hear his joke. 'Won't your people ask about you?' she said.
'I have no people,' he replied, looking down at his gym shoes.
'I mean your wife.'
She means pain and fury and wasted bullets!
What she wants is to hear a humiliating confession; she'll only find that a locked heart becomes increasingly difficult to unlock. But what is the point of lying when newsprint pages are screaming with sensation?
'I said I have no people.' Now you're wondering what my words mean. Your face is beaming with happiness. But I hate this joy. And I can see now that your face has lost whatever bloom it had, particularly under the eyes.
'Divorced?' she asked.
'Yes. When I was in jail. But let's close the subject,' he said, waving his hand impatiently.
'The bitch!' she said angrily. 'A man like you deserves to be waited for, even if he's been sent up for life!'
How sly she is! But a man like me doesn't like to be pitied. Beware of sympathy! 'The truth is that I neglected her far too much.' What a waste for bullets to strike the innocent!
'Anyway, she isn't the kind of woman who deserves you.'
True. Neither is any other woman. But Nabawiyya's still full of vitality, while you're hovering on the brink: one puff of wind would be enough to blow you out. You only arouse pity in me.
'No one must know I am here.'
Laughing, as if sure she possessed him for ever, she said, 'Don't worry; I'll keep you hidden all right.' Then, hopefully, she added, 'But you've not done anything really serious, have you?'
He dismissed the question by shrugging nonchalantly.
She stood up and said, 'I'll get some food for you. I do have food and drink. Do you remember how cold you used to be to me?'
'I had no time for love then.'
She eyed him reproachfully. 'Is anything more important than love? I often wondered if your heart wasn't made of stone. When you went to jail, no one grieved as much as I did.'
'That's why I came to you instead of anybody else.'
