a stalk is ravished of Its leaves, so I was stripped of youth'.
Pretending to be shocked by the sexual allusion, Mihran asked, 'A stalk, Pasha?'
Looking at Ridwan and Hilmi, who were dissolved in laughter, the pasha said, 'Your friend is a corpse with no feeling for poetry. But soon he'll reach the age of regrets, when the only beautieshe encounters will be referred to in the past tense'. Turning toward Mihran, he asked, 'What about our friends from the old days, son of a crone have you forgotten them?'
'Oh! May God preserve them. They were coy paragons of beauty.'
'What do you know about Shakir Sulayman?'
'He was a Deputy Minister of the Interior and a pet of the English until prematurely pensioned off during the second or third government of al-Nahhas… I don't remember which. I think he has now retired to his estate at Kom Hamada.'
'What marvelous days those were! What about Hamid al-Najdi?'
'He's had the worst luck of any of our dear friends. He lost everything and now tours the public lavatories by night.'
'He was witty and charming but a gambler and a boisterous fellow. And Ali Ra'fat?'
'Through his 'exertions' he managed to become a member of the boards of directors of various corporations, but it's said that his reputation cost him a chance at a cabinet post.'
'Don't believe what people say. Men whose notoriety has extended far beyond our kingdom have been appointed to the cabinet, but as I have often advised you, I think it is more important for us to develop a virtuous character than for others. If you can manage this, you won't need to worry about censure. The Mamluk sultans, recruited from a corps of military slaves, ruled Egypt for generations, and their descendants still enjoy high status and wealth here. What is a Mamluk? Nothing but a man who can be bought. Let me tell you a story of great import.'
The pasha was silent for a time, as if collecting his thoughts. Then he said, 'When I was the presiding judge of a court, a civil case concerning a contested inheritance was scheduled to be heard by us. Beforehand, some of the people involved introduced me to a beautiful young man with a face like Ridwan's, a build like Hilmi's, and…' He gestured toward Mihran as he continued: 'The grace of this dog in his glory…. We saw each other for a time without my learning that he had a secret connection to the case. Then the day the case washeard, what did I know but he was representing one of the parties to the dispute. What do you think I did?'
Ridwan murmured, 'What a situation!'
'I withdrew from the case, without any hesitation.'
Ridwan and Hilmi displayed their admiration, but Mihran protested, 'You didn't reward him in any way for his efforts?'
Paying no attention to Mihran's kidding, the pasha said, 'But that's not all. Out of contempt for his morals, I ended my relationship with him. Yes, a man without morals is worthless. The English aren't the brightest people. The French and the Italians are smarter. But the English have mastered morality and this has made them masters of the world. That is my reason for spurning superficial, decadent beauty.'
Ali Mihran asked merrily, 'May I assume that my morals are satisfactory, since you've kept me on?'
Giving him a cautionary wave of the hand, the pasha replied, 'There are many different moral qualities. A judge should be upright and just. A cabinet minister should have a sense of duty and a respect for the public welfare. A friend should be loyal and sincere. Without doubt you are a troublemaker and frequently a rogue. But you're honest and faithful.'
'I hope I'm blushing.'
' 'God does not impose more on a soul than it can bear.' In fact I'm content with the amount of good that's in you. Besides, you're a husband and a father, and those are virtues too. The happiness they bring can be appreciated properly only by people who must put up with silent homes. Even so, a silent residence is one of the torments of old age.'
Somewhat disapprovingly, Ridwan observed, 'I thought old people loved peace and quiet.'
'The notions young people have about old age are erroneous. The ideas old people cherish about youth are vain regrets. Tell me, Ridwan, what do you think about marriage?'
Ridwan's face fell, and he answered, 'You already know what I think about it, Pasha.'
'There's no hope you'll change your mind?'
'I don't think so.'
'Why not?'
Ridwan hesitated a little and then said, 'It's an amazing thing…. I don't really understand it. But I find women revolting.'
The expression of the man's feeble eyes was sad as he commented, 'What a pity! Don't you see that Ali Mihran is a husband and a father? Your friend Hilmi advocates marriage. I feel doubly sorry for you, since I also pity myself I have often been perplexed by what I've read and heard about the beauty of women. Out of respect for the memory of my mother, I've kept my opinion to myself] loved her dearly, and she died in my arms as my tears fell on her brow and cheeks. I hope ever so much, Ridwan, that you can overcome your problems.'
Looking frightened and somber, Ridwan said, 'A man can live without a woman.'
The pasha replied, 'That's not so difficult, and you may be able to ignore the doubts of other people. Yet what about your own questions? You can say you find women disgusting, but why don't other men feel that way? You fall prey to a feeling that's almost like a disease, an incurable one. It leads you to withdraw from the world and is the worst possible companion for your solitude. Then you may be embarrassed to despise women without having any choice about it.'
Ali JVHhran snorted cynically and complained, 'I had promised myself a cheery evening together for our farewell party.'
Laughing, Abd al-Rahim Pasha said, 'But it's a farewell party for a pilgrim. What do you know about seeing off pilgrims?'
'I'll see you off with prayerful invocations and welcome you back with rosy-cheeked beauties. We'll find out what you do then.'*
Clapping his hands together, the pasha answered jovially, 'I entrust my fate to God Almighty.'
166
In front of the Ritz Cafe at the intersection of Sharif and Qasr al-Nil streets, Kamal found himself face to face with Husayn Shaddad. They both stopped and stared at each other. Then Kamal cried out, 'Husayn!'
Husayn exclaimed in turn, 'Kamal!'
Laughing with gleeful delight, they shook hands warmly.
'What a happy surprise after such a long time!'
'A very happy surprise! You've changed a lot, Kamal. But not so fast…. Perhaps I'm exaggerating…. The same build and general appearance. But what's this dignified mustache? These 'classic' spectacles and this walking stick? And this fez that no one else wears anymore? …'
'You've changed a great deal too. You're heavier than I would have imagined. Is this the Parisian fashion? Where's the Husayn I once knew?'
'Where's the Paris I once knew? Where are Hitler and Mussolini? Well, let's not worry about it. I was on my way to the Ritz to have some tea. Do you have any objection to joining me?'
'Of course not.'
They went into the Ritz and took a table by the window overlooking the street. After Husayn ordered tea and Kamal coffee, they resumed their smiling examination of one another. Husayn had become huge, expanding vertically and horizontally. But what had he done with his life? Had he toured the earth and the heavens as he had once hoped? Despite their friendly expression, his eyes had a coarse look, as if they had undergone a transformation following childhood. A year had passed since Kamal's encounter with Budur on Fuad I Street. During that time he had recovered from his relapse into love, and the Shaddad family had retreated into a forgotten corner of his mind. Now the sight of Husayn awakened Kamal's soul from its slumbers, and, stretching sleepily, the past
