What was truly amazing was that he was not influenced by the trend toward atheism, which was fashionable among students at the university when he was there. This can be attributed to his relatively advanced age at the time of his enrollment at the university; he was twenty-three. By that time, he had come to believe deeply in three things he never renounced to the end of his days: God, virtue, and the cause of Islam. His vision was not distracted by the university’s new light. His faith remained a boulder against which the waves of psychology, sociology, and metaphysics crashed. With his faith he defied science and philosophy in general, enlisting them as pretexts for and constituent elements of belief. How delighted he was to find preeminent philosophers under God’s sway: Plato, Descartes, Pascal, and Bergson. His sincere heart welcomed the synthesis that the twentieth century promised between science, religion, and philosophy. In contemporary thought, matter dissolved into electric charges more like the spirit than earlier concepts of matter. In contemporary thought, spirituality was reclaiming its hijacked throne. In contemporary thought, scientists were preoccupied with theology and men of religion drew inspiration from science and philosophy. So blessings on the devout young philosopher! The young man in Giza did, however, differ from the sick boy in Tanta. He had grown more open-minded and magnanimous. Thus it was possible for him to listen to Mahgub Abd al-Da’im’s buffoonery with a smile, to debate with Ali Taha about the relative merits of religion and atheism, and to accept the barbs of critics and scoffers — except when he became infuriated, his eyes flared, and that dread passion overwhelmed him.
Then his insight deserted him, and he might as well have been blind. The young man discovered sincere believers among his fellow students and did not feel isolated by his beliefs. Yet he never convinced anyone to share his enthusiasm for proselytizing on behalf of Islam and Arab pride. At the time, minds were full of many other concerns like the Egyptian cause, the 1923 constitution, and a boycott of foreign goods. The young man, however, never despaired at being a minority of one. It was impossible for despair to dominate a heart like his.
Great hopes excited him, but his heart was also able to embrace life and hastened to greet it with delight. Indeed, he began to gaze out of the tram window with something akin to anxiety. He wished the tram would make the trip to Heliopolis in the wink of an eye.
4
Her face resplendent with a charming smile, she murmured, “Good evening.”
She gently freed her hands and took his arm. They resumed their walk toward Giza Street, keeping the pace of a loiterer out for a stroll. She was a girl of eighteen, and her countenance was illuminated by ivory skin. Her black eyes’ clarity and her lashes had a special magic. Her jet-black hair combined with her fair complexion to dazzle the eye. Her gray overcoat enclosed a supple, ripe body diffusing enchantment and radiance. They walked along slowly, their youth and vitality providing a delightful sight. Ali Taha began to scout the street cautiously as if expecting to be taken unaware, while the girl, who waited with joyful desire, observed him circumspectly until the youth was reassured that no one was watching. Then placing his fingers beneath her chin he drew her face toward him and planted his lips on hers in a juicy kiss. Afterward he raised his head with a profound sigh and they silently continued their walk. She noticed that he was examining her carefully and remembered, despite the magic and enchantment of the scene, that her coat was almost worn out. Then her delight faded. Without meaning to, she asked, “Do you dislike seeing this old coat all the time?”
The young man’s disapproval was apparent in his expression. He chided her, “How can you heed such trifles? The coat encompasses a treasure that has made it a lucky omen for me.”
She did not agree with him that the coat was a “trifle.” Indeed, she had repeatedly told herself regretfully: a happy life means being young and well dressed. Noticing his elegant wool suit, she felt like scolding him. So she said, “What a rascal you are! Do you think clothes are unimportant when you’re so proud of your elegance?”
He blushed, looking like a bewildered child. Then he said apologetically, “The suit’s new. You can’t buy an old suit, but clothes are insignificant incidentals. Isn’t that so, darling?”
All the same, she feared starting a discussion with him, because he would leap at the chance for a debate and saw himself as her instructor, an assumption that made her uncomfortable. In point of fact, he did harbor contradictory positions. He frequently disparaged the importance of clothing, fine foods, and the class system but remained particular about how he dressed, ate gourmet food till he was satiated, and spent freely. Ihsan Shihata, however, had something to say, something she knew he was waiting to hear. So in her melodious, flirtatious voice she remarked, “I’ve almost finished the book you lent me.”
His interest was apparent from his expression; he wanted to love her mind as much as he loved her person. He asked, “What do you think?”
She replied candidly, “I only understood a little of it and couldn’t do much with that.”
Disappointed, he asked, “Why?”
Smiling at him to lighten the impact of her words, she explained, “The gist of this book, which you call a story, is ideas and opinions. What I look for in books is life and emotion.”
“But life is thought and emotion!”
She summoned all her courage to say, “Don’t try to tie me down with your logic, for I may not be able to defend myself against it, but that won’t change my taste. In my opinion, music is the true measure of art. Any part of a book that goes beyond the range of music should not be considered art at all.”
Her opinion appalled him. He smiled wanly and said regretfully, “You’re depriving yourself of the tastiest fruit of true art.”
She laughingly replied, “
She made this remark in the tone of someone quoting the Qur’an to the effect, “You
A delicious moment of delectable magic flitted past. Then he sighed and said somewhat regretfully, “I only have a few short months before the final exam. How about you?”
She replied, “The baccalaureate is in June. Where do you think I should study?”
The youth said enthusiastically, “My faculty.”
Although straitened circumstances forced her to complete her education, she would have liked him to say, for example, “You’ve studied enough. Let’s make a nest for ourselves.” She asked him with a certain reserve, “Why should I choose your department?”