dirt?”
His anxiety was visible in his bulging eyes. The young man even removed his fez and wiped his frizzy hair. Then he quickly replaced it and said, “I hope I won’t disappoint you.”
“That’s why I thought of you. My hunch was on the money.” He looked at Mahgub with round eyes and asked, “Would you consent to marry?”
He was stunned. It had never occurred to him to get married. He did not say a thing. Al-Ikhshidi was staring at him. In a sarcastic tone, he commented, “Now it’s my turn to goad you on.”
“Couldn’t I have time to reflect?”
Al-Ikhshidi shrugged his shoulders disdainfully and replied, “I thought you were really eager. Why should I wait? There are a thousand and one potential bridegrooms and one must be chosen today.”
“Today?”
“In the next hour.”
Mahgub sighed. His normal boldness reasserted itself and he said submissively, “Then I accept.”
Al-Ikhshidi smiled craftily and said, “That’s a good beginning, but there’s more.”
What did the devil want? There was more to this than met the eye at first glance. The marriage wasn’t everything. What more could there be? He heard al-Ikhshidi observe in his odious voice, “But your boldness and decisiveness give me cause for hope. The position is in our office. I held it a few weeks ago. The position is secretary to Qasim Bey Fahmi.”
Amazing! Was this credible? Was it truly possible that fate could shower such happiness on him? Why had al-Ikhshidi, whom he had never thought of as chivalrous or generous, chosen him? He was asking him, in exchange for this position, to marry. But what kind of marriage was this? Yes, what was this marriage? Concealing his anxiety, he said delightedly, “Such happiness is like a dream. May God reward you for me.”
Smiling and feeling ever more resolute and reassured, al-Ikhshidi said, “Let me tell you about your wife.”
This word “wife” produced a tremor in the young man. He gazed at al-Ikhshidi with inquisitive eyes, as if to ask, Who is she? What does she look like? Why am I marrying her?
Al-Ikhshidi said, “She’s a fine girl from Qasim Bey Fahmi’s ‘circle.’ ”
“Almost right; she’s one of his acquaintances.”
Mahgub swallowed and, pretending not to understand, asked, “A neighbor? He’s a friend of her parents?”
Al-Ikhshidi replied simply and scornfully, “Close. His Excellency himself is her friend.”
The unvarnished truth was clear. He grasped what was expected of him. He learned the price of this fancy post. Al-Ikhshidi had not sent his office messenger to search for him out of any love for Mahgub’s black eyes but to exploit his wretchedness. He definitely loathed al-Ikhshidi, but that was irrelevant. His face was stained a bright red, and he felt his head grow hot. He began to appeal to his effrontery and licentiousness. Yes, why was he embarrassed? What was there to cause him pain? Did he believe in marriage? Did he believe in chastity? Should he feel demeaned by his companion’s candor? Here life was proposing to test his philosophy, to ascertain via a real-life experiment whether it was sophistry and intellectual wrangling or a creed to live by. So, inner turmoil, cease. Anger, hush. He should discuss his fallen wife as if speaking about the weather in Brazil. Channeling his contempt and sarcasm, he asked his companion, “A virgin?”
Beaming, al-Ikhshidi replied, “She was!”
They were silent for a time. Mahgub’s sallow face was still pink. Then al-Ikhshidi continued, “You certainly shouldn’t assume that great men have no faults. The bey is serious about making good on his error. If you support his noble goal, you will earn his approval and prepare a fine future for yourself. A job like this calls for a big heart, vast intellect, and deep cultural background. On the other hand, if you see things through the eyes of the masses, then that will end our relationship. Don’t think that I’m running after you. Countless men would accept this offer, although I’d rather have you working with me in the office because I know you’re bright and sincere. Moreover, we’re former neighbors, and the sixth level is a treasure.”
He grasped the ulterior motives that had prompted al-Ikhshidi to send his office messenger to him. Al- Ikhshidi wanted to serve his master and to curry his favor. Perhaps if he did not procure a suitable husband for the girl the bey had seduced, al-Ikhshidi would be obliged to present himself as the ram for the sacrifice. That was clear and understandable. But there were other facts that were even more important to consider. There was the position as secretary and there was the sixth level. Were these worth the sacrifice? Why? Did he care about what people referred to as reputation? Hardly. Did he believe in what people called honor? Damn that. He was quite clear in his own mind about all this. So he had to decide without any hesitation. Hesitating would mean that he did not live up to his own bold philosophy. Damn him. Could he forget his hungry nights? Could he forget the ful? Could he forget stumbling around the streets of Cairo like a panhandling beggar? Ali Taha was in the library and Ma’mun Radwan was en route to Paris — and he was hesitating? Hamdis Bey could not force himself to sit for five minutes with him and he was hesitating? Tahiya — and at this point he became enraged — had slammed the car door in his face, and he was hesitating? He plucked at his left eyebrow, looked up at his companion, and asked, “Who is she? I want to know everything.”
Al-Ikhshidi replied, “You’ll learn all that in due time and have no regrets.”
Mahgub raised his eyebrows scornfully and said, “So be it. When will the appointment be announced?”
23
Trying his utmost to control his emotions, Mahgub rushed after him. They entered a sumptuous room where the bey was seated at the far end behind a large desk. They approached the desk respectfully till they could almost touch it. For the first time Mahgub saw al-Ikhshidi descend from his high horse and bow submissively over the bey’s hand. So he did the same. When he straightened up, he cast a fleeting glance at the seated man, who was in his forties, of medium build, with a handsome face, elegant clothes and accessories, and a pretty little mustache. His appearance suggested that he was a tutor in the school of love. When al-Ikhshidi introduced Mahgub, praising him with deliberate reserve, the bey asked, “Are you a member of this year’s graduating class?” When Mahgub answered in the affirmative, the bey told him, “I hope you live up to Mr. al-Ikhshidi’s high opinion of you.”
Then he held out his hand to indicate that the meeting had concluded. He had intentionally made it an official interview to curb the young man’s conceit. Mahgub returned to al-Ikhshidi’s room and found him proud and self- satisfied. Mahgub was infuriated with him, but this wrath did not last long, because in spite of everything, he was pleased. He asked politely, “When will the appointment be made?”
“That’s the easy part. The memo of your appointment will be drafted today. Then it’s a question of preparing the documents that justify the appointment. God willing, all of this will be completed within a few days. Now let us deal with the other matter.” He was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “Do me the honor of coming by my home this afternoon.”
“Why?” Mahgub asked in astonishment.
The other man replied calmly, “To sign your marriage contract.”
Mahgub replied uneasily, “Wouldn’t it be better to postpone that till after my appointment?”
“Why?”
Smiling, the young man replied, “So I can deck myself out a little.”
“Mr. Mahgub, the best good deed is the most expeditious one. You’ll be paid a respectable amount that you can use for your wedding until you receive your first salary payment. The wedding won’t set you back anything. Your apartment is waiting for you. All you need to do is to buy some new clothes.”
The young man, who had never imagined that everything was already organized this way, was bowled over. The trap was fully baited, just waiting for the mouse, and now the mouse had fallen for it. Would he find honey or poison?
“Won’t you give me a week’s delay?”
“The marriage contract will be signed today to reassure the hearts of the bride’s parents. The wedding
