it is sport on the houseboat. Fornication is held as a vice by councils and institutions, but it is freedom on our houseboat. Women are all conventions and marriage deeds in the home, but they are nubile and alluring on the houseboat. And the moon is a satellite, dead and cold, but on the houseboat, it is poetry; and madness is everywhere an illness, but here it is philosophy, and something was something everywhere else but here; for here it was nothing. O, you ancient sage Ibur, summon for us your age, from which everything save poetry has melted away! Come and sing for us. Tell me what you said to the Pharaoh. Come, sage!
And the sage recited:
_Your boon companions lied to you;
These years are full of war and tribulation._
I said: Recite again, sage! And he sang:
_What is this which has come to pass in Egypt?
The Nile still brings its flood;
He who had nothing is rich now;
Would that I had raised my voice before._
What did you say also, sage?
_You have wisdom and vision and justice,
But you let corruption gnaw at the land.
See how your orders are held in contempt!
Will you order till there comes one who will tell you the truth?_
12
He awoke to a voice whispering his name.
He opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back on the balcony. A shining halo in the sky betrayed the moon, now hidden from his gaze. Where was he — and in what time?
'Anis!'
He turned his head, and saw Samara standing on the threshold of the balcony. He sat up, leaning on his elbows, looking up at her, not fully awakened from the intoxication of his dreams.
'I am sorry to have come back at such an unsuitable time!'
'Is it still the same night?'
'It's only an hour since everyone left. I'm truly sorry.'
He shuffled over to lean against the railing of the balcony, and tried to remember.
'I came back from Tahrir Square,' she said, 'after Ragab dropped me there.'
'It's an honor, I'm sure. You can have my room if you deign to stay.'
But she said, agitated: 'I did not come back to sleep — as you know very well!' And then she added quietly, lowering her eyes: 'I want my notebook.'
'Your notebook!' he echoed, frowning.
'If you please.'
The demons of malice awoke. 'You are accusing me of theft!' he protested.
'No, I am not! But you came across it somehow.'
'You mean that I stole it.'
'I beg you, give it back to me — this is no time for talking!'
'You are mistaken.'
'I am not mistaken!'
'I refuse to listen to any more of this accusation.'
'I am not accusing you of anything. Give me back the notebook that I lost here.'
'I don't know where it is.'
'I heard you repeating what was written in it!'
'I don't understand.'
'Oh yes, you do — you understand everything, and there is no reason to torment me.'
'Tormenting people is not one of my hobbies.'
'The night will soon be over.'
'Will Mommy punish you if you get home late?' he teased her.
'Please, be serious, if only for a minute.'
'But we don't know what the word means.'
'Do you intend to tell everyone about it?' she asked anxiously.
'What have I to do with it, since I know nothing about it?'
'Please, be nice — I know you are, really.'
'I am not 'nice.' I am half mad and half dead.'
'What is written in the notebook — it's not my opinion of you — just a summary of thoughts I'm preparing for a play…'
'We're back in the world of riddles and accusations.'
'I am still hoping that you will behave honorably.'
'What has given you this idea, anyway?' he demanded.
'You repeated my words verbatim!'
'Don't you believe in coincidences?'
'I do believe that you will give me back my book!'
'In that case, you'd succeed in understanding in days what I have failed to in years!' And his laugh broke the silence of the void over the Nile. Then he said, in a new tone: 'Your observations are inane, believe me.'
'So you admit it!' she cried, gratified.
'I will give it back to you, but it will be no good for anything.'
'It is nothing more than some basic ideas — they have not been developed yet.'
'But you are a… vile girl.'
'God forgive you…'
'You came not for friendship, but for snooping around!'
'Don't think so badly of me!' she protested. 'I truly like you all, and I want to be your friend — and besides, I believe that there is a real hero in every individual. I was not interested in getting to know you just to use you in a play!'
'Don't bother to make excuses. It doesn't interest me at all, in fact.'
He held out his hand to her. The notebook was in it. 'As for the fifty piasters,' he said. 'I think I'll owe them to you.'
She was perplexed. 'But how?… I mean…'
'How did I steal the money? It's a terribly simple matter. We consider everything we come across on the boat to be public property!'
'I beg you — give me an explanation to set my mind at rest.'
'I just couldn't resist it!' he said, laughing.
'Did you need the money?'
'Of course not. I'm not as poor as that.'
'Then why did you take it?'
'I found, in spending it in the way that I did, that I could have a kind of closeness to you.'
'Really, I don't understand at all.'
'Neither do I.'
'But I have begun to doubt my whole plan…'
'It's better that you don't have one at all.' She laughed. 'Except one that will lead you to the one you desire!' he went on, and she laughed again. 'I understand you,' he said, 'just as everyone here understands you.'
She was about to leave, but when he spoke she stood still, intrigued.
'You are only here because of Ragab,' he said.
