Who could say? Perhaps Kamal's lie would turn out to be the truth. Alaybe he would traverse those distant realms. No matter what happened, his heart told him that Husayn would return one day and that this profound friendship would not end. His heart sincerely believed this, just as it had believed love could not be plucked from the heart, roots and all… alas.
He entreated his friend, 'Travel and do whatever you want, but come back to Egypt to reside here. Then you can leave for trips when you feel like it.'
Isma'il added his support to this idea: 'If you're really a decent fellow, you'll accept this obvious solution, which reconciles your wishes with ours.'
Bowing his head as if convinced, Husayn said, 'My travels will eventually lead me to this solution, I believe.'
As Kamal listened to Husayn, he gazed at his friend, especially at the black eyes that resembled Aida's and the gestures, which were both grand and gracious. Husayn's diaphanous spirit was almost a visible and tangible presence for Karnal. If this dear friend disappeared, what would remain of the blessing of friendship and the memory of love… that friendship through which Kamal had learned Platonic affection and relaxed happiness… and the love that had inspired in him feelings of heavenly joy and hellish torment?
Referring to each of them in turn, Husayn continued: 'When I return to Egypt you'll be an accountant in the Ministry of Finance and you'll be a teacher. It's quite possible I'll find you're fathers. What an amazing idea!'
Isma'il asked laughingly, 'Can you imagine us as government employees? Try to picture Kamal as a teacher!' Then he told Kamal, 'You'll have to put on a lot of weight before you stand in front of your pupils. You'll find the next generation's a bunch of demons. Compared with them we were angels. Although a dedicated supporter of the Wafd Party, you'll find yourself forced by the government to punish students who strike in support of the Wafd.'
Isma'il's observation forced Kamal away from the train of thought absorbing him. He found himself wondering how he could face pupils with his notorioushead and nose. He felt resentful and bitter, imagining on the basis of the behavior of odd-looking teachershe had known — that he would treat his pupils harshly in order to protect himself from their mischief. But he also wondered whether he would be able to be as strict with others as he was with himself.
He ventured, 'I don't think I'll always be a teacher.'
There was a dreamy look in Husayn's eyes as he said, 'You'll go from teaching into journalism, I suspect. Isn't that so?'
Kamal found himself thinking about the future. He thought again of the all-inclusive book he had often dreamt of writing. But what was left of the original subject matter? He no longer considered the prophets to have been prophets. Heaven and hell did not exis:. The study of man was merely a branch of animal science. He would have to search for a new topic. Speaking impulsively again, he said, 'If I could, I'd start a magazine someday to promote modern thought.'
Isma'il admonished him, 'No, politics is what sells publications, if you want, you can devote a column on the back page to thought. There's room in this country for a new Wafdist satirical writer.'
Husayn laughed out loud and said, 'Our friend doesn't seem to be very positive about politics. His family's already made a big enough sacrifice for the nation. But thought's a wide-open field for him'. Then he told Kamal, 'What you mentioned is certainly possible for you...Your rebellion against religion was a sudden leap I didn't expect.'
This observation cheered Kamal, for it sanctioned his rebellion and his pride. Blushing, he said, 'How beautiful it would be if man could devote his life to truth, goodness, and beauty.'
Isma'il whistled three times, once for each of these qualities. Then he said sarcastically, 'Listen and take note!'
But Husayn said seriously, 'I'm like you, but I'm satisfied with knowledge and enjoyment.'
Enthusiastically and sincerely Kamal replied, 'The matter's more exalted than that. It's a struggle toward truth aiming at the good of mankind as a whole. In my opinion, life would be meaningless without that.'
Isma'il struck his hands together in a way that reminded Kamal of his father and said, 'Then life necessarily has no meaning. How you've worn yourself out and suffered to free yourself from religion…. I haven't tired myself like that, because religion never interested me. Do you suppose I'm a born philosopher? It's enough for me to live a life that doesn't need to be explained, I'm instinctively drawn to what you achieve only after a bitter struggle. God forgive me, you haven't achieved it yet, for you still even after renouncing religion — believe in truth, goodness, and beauty. You wish to dedicate your life to them. Isn't this what religion requests? How can you claim to reject a principle when you believe in everything derived from it?'
'Pay no attention to this gentle mockery,' Kamal advised himself. But why should the valueshe believed in always seem to be the object of ridicule? 'Suppose you had to choose between Ai'da and a righteous life. Which would you choose? … But when I think of her, A'ida's always identified with what's most exemplary.'
Feeling the silence had lasted too long, Husayn answered for Kamal: 'The Believer derives his love for these values from religion, while the free man loves them for themselves.'
'O Lord, when will I see you again?' Kamal asked himself.
Isma'il laughed in a manner that revealed his thoughts were shifting to a new direction. He asked Kamal, 'Tell me: Don't you still pray? Do you intend to fast as usual during Ramadan?'
'My invocations for her were the most enjoyable parts of my prayers,' Kamal mused. 'My evenings in this mansion were the happiest moments of Ramadan for me.'
'I no longer pray. I won't fast.'
'Will you tell people you're not?'
Laughing, Kamal said, 'No.'
'You prefer to be a hypocrite?'
He answered resentfully, 'There's no need to hurt people I love.'
Isma'il asked sarcastically, 'If you're this softhearted, how do you think you'll ever be able to confront society with unpopular views?'
'What about a satiric fable like the classic 'Kalila and Dimna'?' Kamal asked himself. This splendid thought drove away his resentment. 'Lord, have I stumbled on an idea for a book I never thought of before?'
'Addressing readers is one thing; telling parents you're not fasting is something else.'
Gesturing toward Kamal, Isma'il told Husayn, 'Here's a philosopher who comes from a family deeply rooted in ignorance.'
'You'll never be at a loss for companions to play and joke around with, but you'll never gain another friend for your spirit capable of conversing directly with it,' Kamal told himself. 'So be content with silence or with talking to yourself like a lunatic.'
They were all quiet for a time. The garden was silent too, for there was no breeze. Only the roses, carnations, and violets seemed to be enjoying the heat. The sun had withdrawn its luminous gown from the garden, leaving only a hem trailing over the east wall.
Isma'il ended the silence by turning to Husayn Shaddad and asking, 'Do you suppose you'll get a chance to visit Hasan Salim and Mrs. Ai'da?'
'My God!' Kamal exclaimed to himself 'Is it just my heart pounding or has the end of the world begun in my breast?'
'After I'm settled in Paris, I'll definitely think of visiting Brussels'. Stniling, he added, 'We received a letter from Ai'da last week. It seems she's having morning sickness….'
'So pain and life are twins,' Kamal thought. 'I'm nothing but unadulterated pain in a man's clothes. Ai'da has a swelling belly awash with fluids…. Is this one of life's tragedies or comedies? The most blessed event of our lives will be our extinction. I wish I knew the essence of this pain.'
Isma'il Latif exclaimed, 'Their children will be foreigners!'
'It's agreed that they'll be sent to Egypt when they're old enough.'
'Will you find them one day in a class of your students?' Kamal asked himself. 'You'll wonder where you've seen those eyes. Your pounding heart will reply that they've been living inside you for a long time. If her little boy makes fun of your head and nose, will you have the heart to punish him? Forgetfulness, are you a legend too?'
Husayn went on: 'She wrote at great length of her new life and didn't conceal her delight with it. In fact, she only said she missed her family to be polite.'
'She was created for a life like this in one of those dream countries,' Kamal reflected. 'That she should
