duty, people will see only your faults. Haven't you observed the pleasure some busybodies take in saying that such and such a minister has this defect and that the poet so-and-so has the following disease? Fine … but not all the victims of these slanders are cabinet ministers or poets. So be a minister or a poet first, and then do what you want. Don't overlook this lesson, Professor Ridwan.'
Quoting the medieval poet al-Mutanabbi, Hilmi said mischievously, 'The noble man is the one whose faults can be counted.' Isn't that so, Your Excellency?'
Leaning his head toward his right shoulder, the man said, 'Of course. Glory to the One who alone is perfect. Man is very weak, Ridwan. But he must be strong in the other parts of his life. Do you understand? If you want, I'll tell you about the great men of our nation. You won't find any without some failing. We'll discuss this at length and study the lessons we can derive from it, in order to have a life amply endowed with achievement and happiness.'
Hilmi looked at Ridwan, saying, 'Didn't I tell you that the pasha's friendship is a limitless treasure?'
Abd al-Rahim Isa told Ridwan, who could hardly keep his eyes off the man, 'I love learning. I love life. I love people. My practice is to offer a young man a hand until he grows up. What is there in the world that's better than love? If we run into a legal problem, we must solve it together. When we think about the future, we shall do that together. If we feel like resting, we should rest together. I've never known a man as wise as Hasan Bey Imad. Today he's one of a select group of prominent diplomats. Never mind that he's one of my political enemies. When he concentrates on a subject, he masters it. Yet when music makes him ecstatic, he dances nude. The world can be a delightful place, if you're wise and broad-minded. Aren't you broad-minded, Ridwan?'
Hilmi Izzat immediately answered for him, 'If he's not, we're prepared to broaden it for him.'
The pasha's face beamed with a childlike smile that revealed his insatiable appetite for pleasure. He said, 'This boy's a rapscallion, Ridwan! But what can I do? He's your childhood friend, the lucky fellow. I'm not the one who invented the saying 'Birds of a feather flock together.' You must be a rapscallion too. Tell me about yourself, Ridwan. Oh! You've let me say more than I intended while remaining silent like an astute politician. Yes? Tell me, Ridwan. What do you love and what do you hate?'
Then the servant entered, carrying a tray. He was a cleanshaven youth like the doorman and the chauffeur. As they drank the water flavored with orange blossoms, the pasha asked, 'Water like this is what the people of al- Husayn district drink, isn't it?'
Ridwan smilingly murmured. 'Yes, sir.'
Nodding his head ecstatically, the pasha said, 'People of al-Husayri, help us!'
They all laughed. Even the servant smiled as he left the chamber. Then the pasha resumed his questioning: 'What do you love? What do you hate? Speak frankly, Ridwan. Let me make it easier for you to answer. Are you interested in politics?'
Hilmi Izzat said, 'We're both members of the student committee'
'This is the first reason for us to be close. Do you like literature?'
Hilmi Izzat replied, 'He's fond of Shawqi, Hafiz, and al-Manfaluti.'
The pasha chided him, 'You be still. Brother, I want to hear his voice.'
They laughed. Smiling, Ridwan said, 'I could die for Shawqi, Hafiz, and al-Manfaluti.'
' could die for'… What an expression! You only hear it in al-Gamaliya. Is the name of your district derived from gamal, or beauty, Ridwan? You must be a fan of verses like 'Silver gold,'
'In the still of the night,'
'Who is it?' and 'Removing one branch, he lays down another….' My God, my God! This is another reason for us to be close friends, beautiful Gamaliya. Do you like singinga'
'He adores…'
'You be still.'
They all laughed once more. Ridwan said, 'Umm Kalthoum.'
'Excellent. I may prefer the older style of singing, but all singing's beautiful. I love both 'the profound and the witty' as that medieval skeptic al-Ma'arri put it. Or, I could die for it, as you would say, sir. Very fine. What a delightful evening!'
The telephone rang, and the pasha went to answer it. Putting the receiver to his ear, he said, 'Hello…. Greetings, Your Excellency the pasha…. What's so amazing about that? Didn't Isma'il Sidqy himself sit on a negotiating team once as one of the nation's leaders? … I told the leader my candid opinion. It's also that of other Wafdists like Mahir and al-Nuqrashi…. I'm sorry, Pasha. I can't. I haven't forgotten that King Fuad once opposed my promotion. He's the last person to talk about ethics. In any case I'll see you at the club tomorrow. Goodbye, Pasha.'
The man returned with a frown but on seeing Ridwan's face almost immediately cheered up and continued their conversation: 'Yes, Mr. Ridwan. We've gotten acquainted, and it's been beautiful. I advise you to be industrious. I advise you not to lose sight of your duty or your ideals. Now let's talk about music and having a good time.'
Ridwan looked at his watch. The pasha appeared alarmed and said, 'Anything but that! The clock is an enemy of friendly reunions.'
Ridwan stammered rather uneasily, 'But we're late, Your Honor the pasha.'
'Late! Do you mean late for me, at my age? You're mistaken, son. I still love to enjoy talk, beauty, and singing until one in the morning. We haven't begun the soiree yet. We've only recited the preliminary blessing: In the name of God the compassionate, the merciful. Don't object. The automobile is at your command until morning. I've heard that you stay out all night when you're studying for an examination. So let's study together. Why not? I'd find it delightful to review an introduction to general law or some Islamic law. By the way, who teaches you Islamic Shari'a law? Shaykh Ibrahim Nadim may God grant him a good evening was a very sporting fellow. Don't be astonished! One day we'll write the history of all the important men of the age. You must understand everything. Our night will be a loving, friendly one. Tell me, Hilmi, what's the most appropriate drink for a night like this?'
Hilmi replied confidently, 'Whiskey and soda with grilled meat.'
The pasha laughed and asked, 'Scoundrel, how can you drink grilled meat?'
125
Every Thursday after lunch Khadij a's entire family gathered in a fashion that scarcely ever changed. Assembled in the sitting room were the father, Ibrahim Shawkat, and the two sons, Abd al-Muni'ra and Ahmad. It was rare for Khadij a to be without some project, and she embroidered on a tablecloth while she sat with them. After a prolonged and heroic struggle against time, Ibrahim Shawkat had finally begun to show his age. His hair was turning white, and he looked a little bloated. Except for this, hishealth was still enviably good.
Smoking a cigarette, he took his place between his sons with calm assurance. His protruding eyes had their customary look of languid indifference. The two boys kept up a stream of conversation with each other, their father, or their mother, who participated without looking up from her work. She seemed a massive chunk of flesh. There was nothing in the domestic atmosphere to ruffle Khadij a's peace of mind. Since the death of her mother-in-law, there had been no one to challenge her control over her home. She performed her chores with unflagging zeal. As plumpness was the key to her beauty, she took extraordinary care to maintain her weight. She attempted to impose her guidance on everyone, especially her husband and their two sons. The man had given in, but Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad each went his own way, appealing to her love to free themselves from her domination. Some years before she had succeeded in convincing her husband to respect the precepts of Islam. The man had begun praying and fasting and had become accustomed to this. Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad had grown up with these observances, but for the past two years Alimad had ceased to perform his religious duties. He would dodge Ids mother's attempts to interrogate him or excuse himself on some pretext or other.
Ibrahim Shawkat loved and admired his sons greatly. He seized every opportunity to praise the string of successes that had brought Abd al- Muni'm to Law School and Ahmad to the final stage of his secondary education. Khadija also boasted about these achievements, saying, 'This is all the fruit of my concern. If I had left the matter up to you, neither of them would have amounted to anything.'
It had recently been established that, from want of practice, Khadija had forgotten how to read and write,
