all sang the chorus with Zubayda, Ahmad's voice growing loud with delight and ecstasy. The song concluded to their jubilant applause.
Muhammad Iffat immediately asked Jalila, 'Speaking of the song 'His passion's revealed by his eyes,' what do you think of Umm Elalthoum?'
Jalila answered, 'Her voice, with God as my witness, is beautiful, but all too often she's as shrill as a child.'
'Some people say she'll be the next Munira al-Mahdiya. Others say her voice is even more marvelous than Munira's.'
Jalila cried out, 'Nonsense! How does this shrillness compare with Munira's magnificently husky voice?'
Zubayda remarked disdainfully, 'There's something about her voice that reminds one of a Qur'an reciter — as though she was an entertainer in a shaykh's turban.'
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad said, 'I don't care for her, but a lot of people are wild about her. The truth is that the vocal era ended with the death of Abduh al-Hamuli.'
Muhammad Iffat teased his friend, 'You're a reactionary. You always try to cling to the past'. Winking, he continued: 'Don't you insist on ruling your home by fiat and force, even in the age of democracy and parliament?'
Al-Sayyid Ahmad replied scornfully, 'Democracy's for the people, not the family.'
Ali Abd al-Rahim said seriously, 'Do you think you can rule the young people of today in the old-fashioned way? These youngsters are used to demonstrating in the streets and confronting the soldiers.'
Ibrahim al-Far said, 'I don't know what you're talking about, but I agree with Ahmad. We each have sons God help us.'
Muhammad Iffat said playfully, 'Both of you are strong advocates of democracy, but you're tyrants at home.'
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad protested, 'Do you really want me to assemble Kamal, his mother, and Yasin to let them vote before I deal with a problem?'
Zubayda burst into laughter. She reminded him, 'Please don't forget Zanuba!'
Ibrahim al-Far said, 'If the revolution's the cause for the problems our children are causing us, may God forgive Sa'd Zaghlul.'
The drinking, chatting, singing, and joking continued. The din became louder, and their voices blended together. The night advanced, oblivious to the world. He would look at her and find her watching him, or she would be the one to glance at him and catch him watching her. He told himself, 'In this world there's only one true pleasure'. He wanted to express this thought but did not, either because his enthusiasm for sharing it weakened or because he did not feel he could say it. But why should he feel weak?
Once again he asked himself whether this was to be an hour's enjoyment or a long affair. His soul pined for entertainment and consolation, but there was a ringing in his ears, as though the waves of the Nile were whispering to him. He was almost halfway through his sixth decade. 'Ask scholars how a lifetime can pass like this. We know it's happening, but at the same time we don't.'
'What's silenced you? May God spare us evil.'
'Me? A little rest…'
'Yes, how sweet it is to rest,' he told himself. 'A long sleep from which you'll rise in good health. How delightful it is to be healthy…. But they're always after you, not leaving you a single moment to enjoy peace. This look is fascinating, but the whispering of the waves is growing louder. How can you hear the singing?'
'Certainly not. We won't leave until we give him a proper wedding procession. What do you think? A procession… a procession! '
'Rise, my camel.'
'Me? A little rest.'
'The procession… the procession, like the first time at the house in al-Ghuriya.'
'Thar was long ago.'
'We'll revive it. The procession … the procession.'
'They're merciless. That time's vanished. It's hidden by dark shadows. How thick the darkness is! How my ears are ringing! What an overpowering forgetfulness!'
'Look!'
'What's wrong with him?'
'A little water. Open the window.'
'O Gracious One, O Lord…'
'It's all right… all right. Wet this handkerchief in cold water.'
113
During the week after the father's 'accident,' he was visited every day by the doctor, but his condition was critical enough that no one else was allowed to call on him. Even his children had to tiptoe into the room for a glimpse of his sleeping face. They would carefully note his look of resigned exhaustion before retreating with gloomy expressions and sinking hearts. They glanced with interest at one another but shrank from the sad reinforcement this exchange provided.
The physician said the seizure was a result of high blood pressure. He cupped the patient, filling a basin with blood, which Khadija, trembling all over, described as black. Amina emerged from the room now and again, looking like an aimless phantom. Kamal seemed to be in a daze, as though asking himself how such earth-shaking events could occur in the twinkling of an eye and how this colossus of a man could have succumbed. Whenever he stole a look at his mother's ghostly form, Khadija's tearful eyes, or Aisha's pale face, he wondered again what all this meant. He found himself unconsciously led to imagine the end his heart dreaded. He pictured a world without his father, and this vision chilled his breast and alarmed his heart. He asked himself apprehensively how his mother could possibly survive. She already appeared as good as dead, and nothing had happened yet. Then he thought of Fahmy and wondered whether their father would be forgotten as easily as their late brother. The world seemed lost in gloom.
Yasin learned of the incident the day after it occurred and came to the house for the first time since he had left to marry Maryam. He went directly to his father's room and silently looked at al-Sayyid Ahmad for a long time. Then he retreated to the sitting room in a state of shock. He found Amina there, and they shook hands after their long separation. He was deeply touched, and his eyes filled with tears as he held her hand.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad remained in bed. At first he could not speak or move. The cupping put some life into him, and he was then able to get out a word or a brief phrase to make his wishes known. But at that time, he became conscious of his pain, which he expressed in assorted moans and groans. Once the intensity of his physical pain diminished, he became restless with this compulsory bed rest, which deprived him of the blessings of motion and cleanliness. He was obliged to eat, drink, and do things that disgusted him all in one place — his bed. His sleep was interrupted, but his annoyance was continual. The first thing he wanted to know was how he had been conveyed to the house when unconscious.
Amina replied that his friends Muhammad Iffat, Ali Abd al-Rahim, and Ibrahim al-Far — had brought him home in a carriage and had gently taken him up to bed. Then they had found a doctor for him., even though it was very late.
After that, he asked if he had had visitors, and the woman told him they had come regularly, although the physician had forbidden them to see him for the time being.
In a weak voice he repeated, 'The matter's in God's hands, both first and last,' and 'We ask God for a good outcome'. But the truth was that he did not despair and did not feel his end was near. His confidence in the life he loved was no weaker, despite his pains and fears. Hope came back with the return of consciousness. He favored no one with last words of advice, made no disposition of his effects, said farewell to no one, and did not reveal any secrets of his busiuess or fortune to those involved. To the contrary, he summoned Jamil al-Hamzawi and asked him to arrange some commercial transactionshe himself would not have known how to conduct. He sent Kamal to the tailor to collect and pay for some new clo theshe had ordered. His only mention of death was in these phraseshe
