except for human beings. Without alcohol to distract one from humanity's disdainful glare, reunions like this would be impossible. But life is full of prostitutes of various types. Some are cabinet ministers and others authors.
As his second drink went to work inside him the harbingers of forgetfulness and delight arrived. 'I've craved this woman for a long time, even without being conscious of it. Lust is a tyrannical master. Love is something entirely different. When liberated from lust, it appears in the most amazing garb. If one day I'm permitted to find love and lust united in a single human being, a desirable stability will be achieved. I still see life as a set of mismatched parts. I'm searching for a marriage that will affect both the private and public aspects of my life. I don't know which is more basic, but I'm certain that I'm miserable, despite having created a life that assures me both intellectual pleasures and bodily delights. A train, too, rolls forcefully down the tracks without having any idea of where it has been or where it is going. Lust is a tyrannical beauty readily felled by disgust. The heart cries out as it vainly searches in agonizing despair for eternal bliss. Complaints are endless. Life is a vast swindle. To be able to accept this deception gracefully, we must assume that life contains some secret wisdom. We're like an actor who, while conscious of the deceit implicit in his role onstage, worships his craft.'
He downed his third drink in a single gulp, sending Atiya into gales of laughter. She loved to get drunk, even though it had a bad effect on her. If he did not stop her in time, she would become rowdy, twitch, weep, and throw up. The liquor had gone to his head, and he quivered with excitement. He gazed at her with a beaming face. She was simply a woman now, not a problem. Problems no longer seemed to exist. Existence itself- the most troublesome issue in life — had stopped being a problem.
'Just drink some more and lose yourself in her kisses,' he thought.
'You're so charming,' he told her, 'when you laugh for no reason at all.'
'If I seem to laugh for no reason, I hope you'll understand that some reasons are too important to be mentioned.'
132
Wrapped up in his overcoat, Abd al-Muni'm returned home to Sugar Street, bracing himself against the bitter winter cold. Although it was only six, darkness had fallen. When he reached the entry to the staircase, the door of the first-floor apartment opened and out slipped the lithe figure that had been waiting for him. His heart pounded and his fiery eyes watched her advance as he climbed the stairs with light steps, taking care not to make any sound. He was torn between his desire, which tempted him to yield, and his will, which urged him to take control of a nervous system apparently bent on betraying and destroying him. He remembered, only then, that she had made a date with him for this evening and that he could have come home earlier or later, thus avoiding the encounter. He had forgotten all about it. How forgetful he was! There was no time for deliberation and reflection. He would have to wait until he was alone in his room, until a moment that would mark triumphant victory or miserable defeat.
Nothing could make him forget his endless struggle. Throwing himself into this trial, he mounted the stairs behind her without having reached any decision. At the landing, he imagined her figure had swelled so large that it filled space and time to bursting.
With some difficulty, he concealed his anxiety and hid his determination to resist temptation when he said, 'Good evening.'
The voice replied affectionately, 'Good evening. Thank you for heeding my advice to wear your overcoat.'
He was touched by her tenderness, and the wordshe was about to cast at her melted in his mouth. Trying to mask his confusion, he said, 'I was afraid it might rain.'
She raised her head as though to look at the sky and remarked, 'It will rain sooner or later. You can't see a single star in the sky. I had trouble recognizing you when you turned into our street.'
He collected his unruly faculties and observed as if to caution her, 'It's cold and extremely humid in the staircase.'
With a directness the girl had learned from him, she replied, 'I don't feel the cold when I'm near you.'
The heat welling up inside him made his face burn. His condition suggested that he was going to err again, his best intentions notwithstanding. He summoned all his willpower in an effort to master the tremor sweeping through his body.
'Why don't you speak?' she asked.
Sensing her hand gently squeeze his shoulder, he could not stop himself from putting his arms around her. He began with one long kiss and then showered her with more, until he heard her say breathlessly, 'I can't bear to be apart from you!'
He kept on hugging her, as he warmed to her embrace. She whispered in his ear, 'I wish I could stay like this forever.'
Tightening his grip on her, he said in a trembling voice, 'I'm sorry!'
In the darkness she drew her head back a little and asked, 'Aboui: what, darling?'
He replied hesitantly, 'The mistake we're making.'
'By God, what mistake?'
He gently freed himself from her and removed his overcoat, which he folded and started to place on the railing. But at the last terrifying moment he changed his mind, draped it over his arm, and took a step backwards, breathing heavily. His willpower was able to halt his progressive surrender to lust, and that changed everything. When her hand sought to return to his neck, he grabbed hold of it. Then he waited until his breathing had returned to normal and said calmly, 'This is a great error.'
'What error? I don't understand.'
'A young girl not yet fourteen,' Abd al-Muni'm chided himself, 'and you're toying with her to satisfy a merciless desire. This flirtation will lead to nothing. It's merely an amusement that will draw down God's wrath and anger on you.'
'You must try to understand,' he said. 'Would we be able to tell everyone what we're doing?'
'Tell everyone?'
'Don't you see you would be forced to deny it? If we can't talk about it, then it must be a despicable error.'
He felt her hand search for him again. He climbed the first step of the next flight of stairs, confident that he had passed safely out of the danger zone. 'Admit that we're doing something wrong. We mustn't continue to make this mistake.'
'I'm amazed to hear you talk like this.'
'Don't be. My conscience can no longer tolerate this mistake. It torments me, making it hard for me to pray.'
'She's silent,' he thought. 'I've hurt her, may God forgive me. How painful! But I won't give in. Praise God that desire didn't lead you to commit an even greater error.'
'What's happened must teach us not to do anything like this in the future. You're young. You've made a mistake. Don't ever yield to temptation again.'
In a sobbing voice she protested, 'I haven't done anything wrong. Are you planning to desert me? What are your intentions?'
In full command of himself now, he answered, 'Go back to your apartment. Don't do anything you would have to conceal. Don't ever meet anyone in the dark.'
The shaky voice asked, 'Are you deserting me? Have you forgotten what you said about our love?'
'Those were a fool's words. You were mistaken. Let this be a lesson for you. Beware of the dark, for it could be your ruin. You're young. How come you're so daring?'
Her sobs reverberated in the gloom, but that made no impression on his heart. He was intoxicated by the stern delight of victory.
'Heed my words. Don't be angry. Remember that if I were really a scoundrel I wouldn't have been satisfied with anything less than ruining you. Goodbye.'
He bounded up the stairs. The torment was over. Remorse would no longer be able to sink its teeth into him. But he should remember what his mentor Shaykh Ali al-Manufi said: 'You cannot conquer the devil by ignoring the
