the fact is that A'ida's innocent, but excuse me if I tell you frankly about a trait that may seem peculiar to you. Perhaps it's her own fault to a great degree if she's misunderstood.1 refer to her penchant for being the 'dream girl' of all the young men she meets. Don't forget that it's innocent. I tell you I've never encountered a girl more protective of her honor than she is. But she's crazy about reading French novels, frequently refers to their heroines, and has her head filled with an imaginary world.'
Kamal smiled to reassure him, wishing to suggest in this fashion that he was hearing nothing new. Then driven by a desire to provoke Hasan, he said, 'I learned this some time ago when we had a conversation — she, Husayn, and I — on this very subject.'
He was finally able to make Hasan abandon his aristocratic composure. Hasan's face showed his astonishment, as he asked with apparent alarm, 'When was that? I don't remember being present! Did someone tell Ai'da she wanted to be everyone's 'dream girl'?'
With victorious relief, Kamal gazed at the changes affecting his friend. Afraid of carrying it too far, he said cautiously, 'That wasn't mentioned in so many words but was implied during a conversation about her infatuation with French novels and her immersion in the world of the imagination.'
Regaining his calm and equilibrium, Hasan was silent for a time, as though attempting to collect his thoughts, which Kamal had momentarily succeeded in scattering. He seemed hesitant. Eventually Kamal realized that Hasan wanted to know everything about his conversation with Ai'da and Husayn. When had it occurred? What had made them discuss those sensitive topics? Would he spell out exactly what had been said?
But Hasan's pride restrained him from asking. At last he said, 'So you can vouch for the accuracy of my view. Unfortunately many people do not understand A'ida's conduct the way you do. They don't comprehend the important truth that she loves a person's love for her, not that person.'
'If the fool knew what had actually happened,' Kamal thought, 'he wouldn't waste all this effort. Doesn't he know I don't even aspire to have her love my love? Look at my head and nose. Reassure yourself! '
In a voice not free of sarcasm Kamal said, ' 'She loves a person's love for her, not that person' what a philosophy!'
'It's the truth, and I'm certain of it.'
'But you can't know for certain that this is always the case.'
'Yes, I can, even with my eyes closed.'
Falling prey to his sorrow, Kamal asked with sham astonishment, 'Can you be sure that she does not love one person or another?'
Confidently and contentedly Hasan replied, 'I can confirm with total certainty that she does not love any of the men who occasionally imagine she does.'
'Only two types of people have a right to speak with such confidence,' Kamal reflected, 'the believer and the fool. And he's no fool. There's nothing new in what you're hearing. So why does it hurt? The truth is that I've felt enough pain today for a full year of love.'
'But you can't prove she doesn't love anyone.'
'I didn't say that.'
Kamal looked at him as though consulting a diviner and then asked, 'So you know she's in love?'
Nodding his head in agreement, Hasan said, 'I invited you on this walk to tell you.'
Kamal's heart sank in his chest — as though in attempting to flee from pain it had drowned in pain's waves. Until then he had suffered because it was impossible for her to love. Now his tormentor was affirming that she was in love, that the beloved loved, that her angelic heart was subject to the laws of passion, affection, desire, and longing — all directed at one individual. Of course, his intellect, but not his emotions, had occasionally allowed for that possibility, but in the way it accepted death — as an abstract thought, not a cold reality affecting his own body or that of a loved one. For this reason the news took him by surprise, as if the concept and its actual existence were being revealed to him at the same time.
'Reflect on these realities,' he counseled himself. 'Admit that there are pains in this world you never imagined, despite your expertise in pain.'
Hasan continued: 'I told you at the beginning that I have my reasons for this conversation with you. Otherwise I wouldn't have intruded into your personal affairs.'
He would be consumed by the sacred fire to the last speck of ash.
'I'm sure that's true. I'm interested to hear what you have to say.'
Hasan's feeble smile revealed that he was hesitant to utter the decisive words. So Kamal tried to be patient but finally, although his heart dimly perceived the distressing truth, he prodded his friend: 'You said you know she's in love….'
Flinging off hishesitation, Hasan said, 'Yes. Our relationship gives me a right to assert this.'
'Aida's in love, O celestial realms. The strings of your heart contract to accompany a dirge. Does her heart harbor the same feelings for this happy young man that yours does for her? If this truly were possible, the best thing would be for the world to burst asunder. Your companion isn't lying, for handsome young men from distinguished families don't lie. The most you can hope for is that her love is of a different kind than yours. If this catastrophe is inevitable, it's some consolation that Hasan's the one. It's also comforting to find that sorrow and jealousy do not blot out the reality standing before you — this wealthy, enchanting, marvelous fellow.'
As though pressing the trigger of a revolver he knew was empty, he remarked, 'You seem extremely confident that she's in love this time with the person himself, not with his love for her.'
Another 'ha' escaped from Hasan to express his certainty. He glanced swiftly at Kamal to see if he was convinced. Then he said, 'Our conversation — mine and hers — was definitely not a talk that could be understood in more than one manner.'
'What kind of conversation was it?' Kamal wondered. 'I'd trade my whole life for a single word of it. I've learned the truth and am quaffing the torment down to the dregs. Do you suppose he heard the ravishing voice tell him, love you'? Did she say it in French or in Arabic? The fires of hell burn with torment like this.'
He said calmly, 'I congratulate you. It seems to me that each of you is truly worthy of the other.'
'Thanks.'
'But I wonder what prompted you to reveal this precious secret.'
Hasan raised his eyebrows as he said, 'When I discovered you talking together, I was afraid you might be taken in, like many others, by some statement of hers. So I decided to tell you the truth quite candidly, because I hated for you of all people to be deceived.'
'Thank you,' murmured Kamal, moved by the lofty sentiments of the gifted young man whom Ai'da loved and who had hated to let Kamal be deceived and therefore had slain him with the truth. Was it not possible that jealousy had been among the motives inducing Hasan to tell Kamal his secret? But had he no eyes to see Kamal's head and nose?
Hasan picked up the conversation again: 'She and her mother frequently visit our residence. Then we have opportunities to talk.'
'Alone?' This question slipped out unconsciously, and he regretted it. Feeling uneasy, he blushed.
Hasan replied quite simply, 'At times.'
How he wished he could see her in this role, that of a woman in love. He had never imagined it in his wildest dreams. What did the glow of passion and affection look like in her dark eyes, which cast him patronizing glances? Although fatal to the heart, it would be a vision to light up the mind with a firebrand of sacred truth justifying an eternal curse on any skeptic.
'Your spirit flutters like a trapped bird wishing to fly free. The wodd is a crossroads of ruins. It would be pleasant to leave it. But even if you're certain their lips have met in a rose-red kiss, you can look forward to the pleasure of absolute freedom in the whirlpool of madness.'
Driven by a suicidal desire he could no more resist than understand, he asked, 'How can you agree then to let her mingle with Husayn's friends?'
Hasan hesitated a little before replying, 'Perhaps I'm not totally comfortable with it, but I find no real reason to take offense. She's always in full view of her brother and all the others. Then there's her European upbringing. I concede that I've occasionally thought of mentioning my annoyance to her, but I'd hate to have her accuse me of jealousy. She'd love to make me jealous! Naturally you know about these feminine wiles. I'll admit I don't relish them.'
'No wonder,' mused Kamal, 'that the demonstration of the earth's revolution on an axis and around the sun
