it forbids. In someone else, those would be defects. What I fear most is that from now on no beautiful woman will be able to please me unless she takes her religion lightly and performs forbidden acts. Does that make you apprehensive? Ask God's forgiveness for yourself and for her. Say that it is all amazing, as amazing as the Sphinx. How much your love and the Sphinx resemble each other. Each of them is an eternal riddle.'
A'ida emptied what was left from the thermos into the fourth glass. Then she asked Kamal seductively, 'Won't you change your mind? It's just a refreshing drink….'
He smiled with apologetic thanks. Husayn grabbed the glass and raised it 1 o his mouth, saying, 'Me instead of Kamal'. With a moan he continued: 'We've got to stop or we'll die of overeating.'
When they concluded their meal, only half a chicken and three sandwiches remained. Kamal, who thought he would distribute the leftovers among the young boys prowling about, saw A'ida put her sandwiches back in the basket along with the glasses and thermos and felt obliged to return the rest of his food to the bag. He happened to recall Isma'il Latif's comments about the parsimonious spirit of the Shaddad family.
Husayn jumped to the ground and said, 'We have a pleasant surprise for you. We've brought a phonograph and some records to help our digestion. You'll hear some European music selected by A'ida and also Egyptian pieces like 'Guess What,'
'After Dinner,' and 'Turn Aside Here.' What do you think of this surprise?'
89
December was half over, and the weather was still relatively mild, although the month had begun with windstorms, rains, and bitter cold. Kamal approached the Shaddad family mansion with happy deliberate steps, his neatly folded overcoat thrown over his left arm. His elegant appearance suggested that he had brought his coat to perfect the splendor and respectability of his attire rather than to guard against a change in the weather, especially since it was so mild. The late-morning sun was brilliant. Kamal thought their gathering would take place in the garden gazebo rather than the parlor, where they met in cold weather, and that consequently he might have an opportunity to see Ai'da, who was only allowed to visit them in the garden.
If winter deprived him of a chance to meet her outside, it did not prevent him from seeing her at the window that overlooked the path to the garden or on the balcony surveying the entrance to the mansion when he arrived or left. He might catch a glimpse of her resting her elbows on the ledge or holding her chin in her hand. H e would look up and bow devoutly. She would return his greeting with a delicate smile so sparkling that it lit up his dreams both day and night. Hoping to see her, he glanced stealthily at ths balcony when he entered the grounds of the mansion and then at the window as he walked along the path. But he did not find her in either spot. Indulging himself in the hope that he would meet her in the garden, he headed for the gazebo, where he saw Husayn sitting unaccustomedly alone. They shook hands, and Kamal's heart rejoiced with delighted affection as he looked at the handsome face, since Husayn was a kindred spirit.
Husayn welcomed him in a merry, untroubled way: 'Greetings to the teacher! Overcoat and fez! Next time don't forget your scarf and stick. Welcome, welcome!'
Kamal removed his fez and placed it on the table. Throwing his coat on a chair, he asked, 'Where are Isma'il and Hasan?'
'Isma'il has gone to the country with his father. So you won't see him today. And Hasan telephoned me this morning to say he'll be at least an hour late, because he's copying some lecture notes. You know he's a model student like you. He's determined to get his degree this year.'
They sat on neighboring chairs, with their backs to the house. The fact that they would be alone presaged for Kamal a quiet conversation with no dissension. It would be a harmonious and thoughtful meeting lacking the tedious but delightful debates unleashed by Hasan Salim and the stingingly sarcastic comments tossed off ad nauseam by Isma'il Latif.
Husayn continued: 'I, to the contrary, am a rotten student. I listen to the lectures attentively, since I'm able to concentrate on them, but I can hardly bear to read my textbooks. I've often been told that studying law requires rare cleverness. They should rather say it requires denseness and patience. Like others motivated by ambition, Hasan Salim's a diligent student. I've often wondered what makes him push himself beyond normal human endurance, working and staying up late. As the son of a superior court judge he could have contented himself with doing just enough to pass, confident that his father's influence would guarantee him the kind of position he desires. The only explanation I can find is pride, which makes him want to succeed and drives him on relentlessly. Isn't that so? What do you think?'
Kamal replied sincerely, 'Hasan's a fine young man who deserves praise for his character and intelligence.'
'I heard my father say once that his father's an extraordinary and fair judge, except when it comes to political cases.'
This opinion coincided with Kamal's own prejudice, since he knew that Salim Bey Sabry favored the Liberal Constitutionalists. He said sarcastically, 'That means that he has a brilliant legal mind but is unfit to judge.'
Husayn laughed loudly and then said, 'I forgot I was speaking toaWafdist.'
Shrugging his shoulders, Kamal answered, 'But your father isn't one! Imagine Salim Bey Sabry judging conspiracy and murder charges against Wafdists like Abd al-Rahman Fahmy or al-Nuqrashi…'
Had his opinion of Salim Bey Sabry been well received by Husayn? Yes, that could be seen clearly in his handsome eyes, to which prevarication and hypocrisy were alien. Perhaps Husayn's appreciation of this criticism could be attributed to the rivalry — no matter how muted by refined manners and decorum — that often arises between peers. Shaddad Bey was a millionaire, a wealthy man with status and prestige, who also had a long- standing relationship with the Khedive Abbas. Salim Bey Sabry, on the other hand, was a superior court judge for the largest judicial circuit in a land where official titles inspired people to veneration. It was inevitable that high rank and vast wealth should occasionally look askance at each other.
Husayn gazed at the vast garden calmly but sadly. The palms had been stripped of their hanging fronds, the rose bushes were denuded, the lush green of the vegetation had faded, and the smiles of the flowers had disappeared from the mouths of the buds. The garden appeared to be plunged in grief over the advent of winter. Gesturing toward the view, he said, 'See what winter has done. This will be our last meeting in the garden. But you're one of winter's admirers.'
Kama! really was fond of winter, but he loved A'ida more than winter, summer, fall, and spring put together. He would never be able to forgive winter for depriving him of the happy reunions in the gazebo. Yet he agreed: 'Winter's a brief, beautiful season. In the cold overcast conditions and the drizzle there's a vitality to which the heart responds.'
'It seems to me that winter's advocates are normally energetic and industrious. You're that way, and so is Hasan Salim.'
Kamal rejoiced at this praise but wished most of it had been reserved for him. 'I only expend half my energy on school assignments,' he said. 'The life of the intellect ranges far beyond school.'
Husayn nodded his head approvingly and commented, 'I don't think there's a school that could use up all the hours you devote to study each day. By the way, I think you're overdoing it, although occasionally I envy you. Tell me what you're reading now.'
Kamal was delighted by this kind of conversation. Next to A'ida, it was wtiat he loved best. He answered, 'I can tell you my reading has become more systematic. It's no longer a question of reading anything I want stories in translation, selections of poetry, or critical essays. I've begun to proceed in a slightly more enlightened manner. I recently started spending two hours every evening at the National Library. There I look up the meanings of deep and mysterious words in the encyclopedia, terms like 'literature,'
'philosophy,'
'thought,' and 'culture.' As I read, I jot down the names of books I come across. It's an extraordinary world. My soul dissolves in it from eager curiosity.'
Husayn listened with attentive interest, leaning back in his rattan chair and putting his hands in the pockets of his dark blue English jacket. On his broad lips there was a pure smile of empathy. He said, 'That's really beautiful. Once you asked me what you should read. Now it's my turn to confer with you. Do you see clearly where you're
