remained as strong as ever. Alwan told himself, 'I'll do the audit again and again until I find out what they are hiding. They are dogs, the lot of them. While they have all the dirty tricks of dogs, they have none of their faithfulness! Then he addressed his manager aloud, 'Don't forget, Kamil Effendi, what I told you. About the smoking and the warm water.'
Soon his business friends and acquaintances arrived to wish him well, some staying to transact business. Others commented that he should postpone returning to work because of his health, but Alwan answered drily, 'If I were too weak, I should not have come to the office.'
As soon as he was left alone Alwan's vindictive thoughts returned and, as was usually the case with him these days, his anger enveloped everyone. For a long time he had told himself that everyone envied him, that they envied his health, his business, his carriage and his bowl of green wheat, and he now cursed them all from the bottom of his heart. During his illness these thoughts had frequently recurred to him and even his wife was an object of his spite. One day as she sat by the side of his bed, he said, his voice quavering with weakness and anger, 'And you too, madam, you have had your share of that. For years you've been trying to subdue me by saying that my wheat-bowl days are over. Why, it's as if you also resent my good health. Well, now everything is over and you can be satisfied.'
She was quite shocked by this and stood there not knowing what to say. He broke in again angrily, his ill temper in no way subsided, 'They envied me… envied me. Even my wife, the mother of my children, envied me!'
Although the reins of wisdom had now clearly slipped from his hands, death had already appeared before him sometime previously. He would never again forget that terrifying hour when the crisis had struck. He was just dropping off to sleep when a painful chest constriction attacked him. He felt the need to take a deep breath but he was unable to either inhale or exhale. Whenever he tried, the pain racked his entire body. The doctor arrived and he had taken the prescribed medicine, only to lie hovering between life and death for some days. When he opened his eyes he had been able to vaguely see his wife, sons, and daughters sitting about him, their eyes red from weeping. He had drifted in and out of that strange state in which a man loses all desire to use either his intellect or his body. The world appeared a dark dream of obscure and disconnected memories, unclear and seeming to have no connection one with the other.
In those few brief moments when he regained a degree of consciousness, he had asked himself in a cold shudder, 'Am I going to die?' Was he to die surrounded like this, by his whole family? But then a man usually departs from this life surrounded by the hands of his loved ones, though what good did it do to have them around when one must die anyway? At that thought he started to pray and to make a declaration of faith, but he was too weak. This attempt to pray merely caused a bit of internal movement that allowed moisture into his dry mouth.
His deeply embedded faith had not made him forget the horrors of this hour and he had submitted his body to it in spite of himself. As for his spirit, it clung in terror and fear to the fringes of life, his tear-filled eyes calling out for help and relief. This period eventually ended, the danger receded, and he recovered. Slowly he came back to life, and he hoped his health would completely return so that he could lead his old life again. However, the warnings and advice of his doctor completely destroyed his high hopes, for clearly he had only a little life left. Yes, he had escaped from death. But now he was another person whose body was delicate and whose mind was sick. As time went on, his sickness of mind became worse and he became more and more testy and filled with hate. He was really astonished at this reversal in health and fortune and he asked himself what sin could Almighty God be punishing him for. His had been one of those hearts only too ready to find excuses for others' faults, always thinking the best of them and refusing to see their shortcomings. He had a really fierce love of life, had enjoyed his personal wealth and provided well for his family. He had also, as far as he could see, kept within the bounds of God's laws and had felt a deep contentment in his life. Then this dreadful blow had struck that almost destroyed his health and very nearly his sanity. What sin had he committed? He had committed no sin; it was his enemies who had brought him down. It was their envy which had caused this eternal injury! So it was that everything that had been sweet in his life had now become sour, and a permanent scowl etched itself into his brow. The truth was that his bodily damage was trivial in comparison to that done to his nervous system.
Sitting there at his desk in the office, he asked himself whether all he had left in life was to sit there auditing his books. Life seemed to frown on him more darkly than he on it, as he sat there frozen like a statue. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there lost in his thoughts when he heard a noise at the entrance. He looked up and saw Umm Hamida's pockmarked face making its way toward him. A strange look came into his eyes as he greeted her, listening with only a quarter of his attention to her greetings and blessings. He was occupied with old memories that did not concern her.
Was it not strange how he had forgotten Hamida, as though she had never existed? During his convalescence she had occasionally crossed his mind, but only briefly and without effect. His disappointment at not being able to have her was not nearly so strong as his desire for her and recently he had really quite forgotten her. It was as though she had been a small drop of the healthy blood that flowed in his veins, and when his health had gone, she had vanished with it.
The strange look now left his eyes and their usual sullenness returned. He thanked the woman for coming to see him and asked her to sit down. In fact, her coming had amazed him, and he felt something approaching hatred for Umm Hamida. He wondered what had brought her, whether she really wanted to pass on her good wishes or to satisfy herself about that other matter. However, the woman felt no ill will toward him, for she had long ago despaired of him.
Rather like an apology, Alwan addressed her: 'We wanted… but God wanted otherwise…'
She understood and said quickly, 'It's not your fault, Mr. Alwan, and we only pray to God for your health and well-being.'
She then said goodbye and left. Alwan was now in a worse state and even more upset than when she had arrived. He noticed a package of mascara slip from the hands of one of his workers and his anger boiled over. He shouted at the man, 'This business is going to close soon, so are you looking for a new job?'
He stood there trembling with rage. He was reminded again of what his sons recently suggested, that he should liquidate the business and rest. His rage increased as he told himself that it was his money they were really after and not their concern about his health. Had they not made the same suggestion before, when he was in perfect health? It was his money they were after all right. He seemed to forget that he had rejected the idea of restricting his life to working in the office and amassing money he would never be able to spend. However, his stubbornness got the better of him, coupled with an ill will toward everyone he knew, including his children and his wife.
Before he recovered from his rage, he heard a voice calling out in sincere sympathy, 'Praise be to God for your safe return. Peace be upon you, my brother.'
Alwan turned and saw Radwan Hussainy's tall, broad form approaching, his face beaming with joy. Alwan's face too seemed happier than before and he made as if to get up, but Radwan placed a hand on his shoulder and said, 'By our Lord Hussain, please stay rested.'
They embraced affectionately. Radwan had several times visited Alwan's villa during his illness, and when he had not been able to see the merchant, had always left his greetings and blessings. Radwan sat near Alwan and they began talking together in a polite and friendly fashion.
Salim Alwan cried emotionally, 'It was a miracle that I recovered!'
In his quiet, deep voice, Radwan replied, 'All praise be to God. It was a miracle that you recovered, and it is a miracle that you still live. It's a miracle, as you may know, that any of us are alive. For man to live a single second needs a great miracle from the Divine Power. The life of any man is a succession of divine miracles, and just think of the lives of everyone put together and the number of lives of all living creatures! Let us therefore thank God day and night. How insignificant our thanks are in the face of these divine blessings.'
Alwan sat silently listening and then muttered sullenly, 'Illness is a really evil, dreadful thing.'
'No doubt it seems so, but from another angle it can be considered a divine test and so in this respect it is good.'
This philosophy did not please Alwan at all, and suddenly he felt hostility for the man who expressed it. The good effect of his coming was now quite dissipated. He managed to prevent giving way to his emotion, however, and asked, still obviously discontented, 'What have I done to deserve this punishment? Can't you see that I have lost my health forever?'
