suddenly, he asked, 'Where are you going?'
Hurrying through the door, she replied, 'The bathroom.'
He stood up too and took a seat next to hers. Picking up the lute, he began to strum on it while he wondered whether there was a third cabin.
'Your heart shouldn't pound that way, as though the English soldier were herding you ahead of him in the dark like that night after you'd been with Maryam's mother. Do you remember? Don't dwell on that, for it's a painful memory. She's returning from the bathroom. How fresh she looks!'
'Do you play the lute?'
'Teach me,' he answered with a smile.
'You should stick with the tambourine, for you're expert at that.'
He sighed and said, 'Those days have vanished. How delightful they were. You were just a child! Why don't you sit down.'
'She's almost touching you,' he noticed. 'How sweet the beginning of the chase is.'
'Take the lute and play something for me.'
'We've had enough singing, performing, and laughing. Tonighl: I've understood more than ever before why they missed you so much.'
He smiled in a pleased way and asked craftily, 'But you haven't had enough to drink?'
She agreed and laughed. He sprang like a charger to the table to fetch a half-filled bottle and two glasses. As He sat down he said, 'Let's drink together.'
'The delightful glutton — her eyes shine with deviltry and magic. &sk her about the third room…. Ask yourself whether it's to be just for one night or an affair. Don't wonder about the consequences. Ahmad Abd al- Jawad, no matter how exalted his stature, opens his arms to the lute player Zanuba. She used to serve you platters of fruit…. But you have a right to be happy as a reward for your fresh beauty. Conceit has never been one of my failings.'
He saw that her palm grasping the glass was near his knee. He reached his hand out to caress it. She silently drew it back to her lap without looking at him. He asked himself whether flirting was in order at this late hour, especially when the host was a man like himself and the guest a girl like her. But he did not abandon his amiable tenderness.
He asked her suggestively, 'Is there a third bedroom on the houseboat?'
She gestured toward the vestibule. Ignoring his suggestion, she merely answered, 'On the other side.'
Smiling and twisting his mustache, he asked, 'Wouldn't it be big enough for both of us?'
Politely but without flirtatiousness, she answered, 'If you feel sleepy, you'll find it quite large enough for you.'
As though astonished, he asked her, 'What about you?'
In the same tone she said, 'I'm comfortable just the way I am.'
He inched closer to her, but she got up and placed her glass on the table. Then she went to the sofa opposite him. She sat there with a serious look of silent protest sketched on her face. The man was amazed at her attitude. His enthusiasm waned, and he felt that his prids was under attack. He looked at her with a forced smile and then asked, 'Why are you angry?'
She kept silent for a long time, her only response being to fold her arms across her chest.
'I'm asking why you're angry.'
She answered tersely, 'Don't ask questions to which you already know the answer.'
He guffawed abruptly to proclaim his disdain and disbelief Then he rose, filled both glasses, and handed one to her, telling her, 'Lighten your spirits.'
She took the glass courteously but set it on the table. 'Thank you,' she murmured.
After retreating to his place he sat back down, raised his glass to his lips, and drained it in one gulp. Then he laughed uproariously.
'Could you have anticipated this surprise? If it were possible to backtrack a quarter of an hour… Zanuba, Zanuba, just plain Zanuba… can you believe it? Don't let yourself be flustered by the blow. Who knows? Perhaps this is the fashion in coquetry now in 1924, you provincial has-been. How have I changed? … Not in any way. It's Zanuba. Isn't that her name? Clearly every man meets at least one woman who resists his advances. Since Zubayda, Jalila, and Maryam's mother are all wild about you, who is there but Zanuba, this dung beetle, to resist you? Endure it to overcome it. In any case the matter's not a catastrophe. Oh, look. See how pretty and firm her leg is. What a solid base she has. You don't think she's really rejected you, do you?'
'Have a drink, sweetheart.'
In a voice both polite and determined she replied, 'I will when I feel like it.'
He fixed his eyes on her. Then he asked suggestively, 'When do you think you'll feel like it?'
She frowned in a way that showed she understood his allusion but did not respond.
With a sinking feeling al-Sayyid Ahmad asked, 'Doesn't my affection meet with any acceptance?'
Bowing her head to hide her face from his eyes, she begged him, 'Won't you stop that?'
He was overcome by a surge of anger, which came in reaction to his sense of being rejected. In astonishment he asked her, 'Why did you come here?'
Pointing to the lute lying on the sofa not far from him, she protested, 'Because of this.'
'Only? … There's no conflict between that and what I'm proposing.'
Vexed, she asked him, 'Against my will?'
Prey to the disquieting feelings of disappointment and annoyance, he said, 'Of course not, but I don't see any reason for you to refuse.'
She said coldly, 'Perhaps I have some reasons.'
He laughed loudly and dryly. Then, exasperated, he said sarcastically, 'Maybe you're afraid of losing your virginity.'
She glared at him for a long time and then said furiously and vengefully, 'I only accept a man I love.'
He would have laughed again but restrained himself. He was tired of these sad, mechanical laughs. He stretched his hand out to the bottle and impulsively poured himself half a glass. But he left it on the table. He began to look anxiously at the woman, not knowing how to extricate himself from the fix he had created himself 'That viper and daughter of a viper only accepts a man she loves,' be reflected. 'Does that mean anything more than that she falls in love with a different man every night? It will be hard for you to save face after this disaster tonight. The gentlemen are inside, and you're at the mercy of this pampered musician…. Flay her with your tongue…. Kick her…. Shove her into the cabin against her will…. The best thing would be to turn your back on her and leave this place immediately. Our eyes have looks fierce enough to humble proud necks…. How charming hers is. Don't try to dispute her beauty. When a person loses his head, he will surely suffer.'
'I didn't expect such harshness,' he said.
He frowned and came to a decision. His face was scowling as he rose. Shrugging his shoulders disdainfully, he said, 'I thought you would be gracious and charming like your aunt, but I was wrong. I have only myself to blame.'
He heard the gentle smack of her lips as she cleared her throat in protest, but he went to get his cloak, which he put on rapidly. He was fully dressed in less than half the time he usually required to satisfy his taste for elegance. He had made his decision and was angry, but his despair was not yet total. Part of him still rebelliously refused to believe what had happened or at least found it easy to doubt. He picked up his walking stick but watched from one moment to the next for something to occur that would prove him wrong and satisfy the hopes of his wounded pride. She might suddenly laugh and thus slip back the veil of her bogus objection. She would rush to him, deploring his anger. She could leap in front of him to prevent him from leaving. When a woman cleared her throat in protest like that it was frequently a maneuver to be followed by her surrender. But none of these possibilities came to pass.
She remained sitting there, staring off into space, ignoring him as though she did not see him. So he quit the room for the vestibule and went from there to the entrance and on to the road, sighing with regret, sorrow, and rage. The fresh autumn air gently flowing through his garments, he walked along the dark road until he reached the Zamalek Bridge. There he got in a taxi and sped away. His intoxication and brooding thoughts made him oblivious to the world around him. When he began to pay attention he was already in Opera Square. As the vehicle circled around it on the way to al-Ataba al-Khadra Square, by the light of the lampshe chanced to see the wall of the
