Again silence and peace. Rafik felt ill. He was tired; he trembled with humiliation and disgust. Instinctively he moved toward the couch and lay down. The spectacle of men devoted to the vilest misery depressed him as though he had been caught in their ruin. He had tried to insure himself against such contacts, had raised walls between himself and this degraded and subject humanity. He didn’t want to be a party to such abjectness. He felt outraged; he felt a physical repulsion even to witness such insane brutality. It was really a butchery; everywhere the same people, stupefied, jostling, carried along like a herd of buffaloes by the same everlasting lies.
Rafik breathed deeply, stretched and tried to forget the horrible eyes of the man with the chains. One more thing to forget. How many times had he tried to forget the hideous sights that were always before him? It was useless to try to hide them; the poisonous vapors filtered through the cracks of his hiding place. He remembered he had resolved to go seek out Imtissal and felt a desperate terror.
“It will be the last time I go out,” he told himself. He lay motionless, like a fox in his lair, waiting for Haga Zohra. There was nothing but silence, an impalpable silence, empty of all substance. Suddenly a voice echoed from the next floor. It was old Hafez calling Hoda, and his words seemed smothered by the monstrous silence. Rafik leaped up, ran to the door and looked into the hallway. He saw Hoda, barefoot, start hurriedly up the stairs. The young girl, shocked to see him, stopped short.
“Come here, girl!”
Hoda came back down the steps and up to him timidly.
“I know why he’s calling you,” said Rafik. “He wants to know if Haga Zohra is here. Tell him she hasn’t come and that she isn’t coming anymore. I’ll strangle you, I warn you, if you ever let that woman in the house. Besides, I’m here; I’ll wait.”
“It’s not my affair,” said Hoda. “What have I got to do with it? Why pick on me?”
“I know he’s promised you some money. And you want to make us all miserable, filthy girl!”
Hoda was ready to cry. She knew Rafik’s brutality, his rudeness and his violence. She lowered her eyes, assumed a look of humility, and resigned herself to his worst.
“I don’t want money,” she said. “I don’t want anything. Have I asked for anything? I just do what I’m told.”
“Then do what I tell you,” shouted Rafik.
“Ssh!” whispered Hoda. “You’ll wake everyone.”
Rafik stopped, disconcerted at the thought that everyone was asleep. He who was always so careful of others’ sleep — what had happened to him? Exhaustion had made him lose control of himself. But there was something else. Rafik realized that he wanted Hoda, and that his desire had been born the same instant she whispered to him to be quiet. The silence was erotic. It carried the heavy odor of an oppressing voluptuousness. He caught Hoda by the throat and tried to drag her to the couch.
“Come,” he said.
She shook her head, struggling to free herself.
“Not now,” she said. “I haven’t time. My master’s calling. I’ll come back later. ”
But Rafik wasn’t listening to her. He held her by her waist, blindly pressed her against him, in a mad desire for sleep rather than lust. Hoda fought silently. She knew what was coming; he was always like this with her. Rafik was already searching under her dress, trying to touch her.
She felt his fingers hunting in her; a shiver ran over her body and she began to struggle more desperately. She felt that Rafik was drowning and that his movements were weak and without desire. In fact, Rafik was already tired of the battle. His head fell back, he yawned; his tenseness left him, he felt himself falling into an abyss of unconsciousness. Hoda, with an abrupt movement, managed to escape his grasp. She ran up the stairs.
“I’ll strangle you, daughter of a whore!”
He waited a moment at the bottom of the stairway; he could hear his father’s cries cursing Hoda for being late. Then, he fell back into a heavy, devouring silence. Rafik was still panting from frustrated desire; he had lost all feeling in his legs, his head was spinning sickeningly. To sleep! But he was too furious with himself to go back to the couch. He needed to talk to someone.
V
Serag wasn’t asleep, he was only resting. When Rafik entered the room, he opened his eyes and was astounded to see his brother up at this sacred hour of the siesta.
“Why are you awake? Have you gone crazy?”
“I’m not crazy,” replied Rafik. “Worse than that. You don’t seem to remember. While you sleep, I alone have been trying to do something about the unhappiness that is menacing us.”
“What unhappiness are you talking about?”
“You still haven’t understood anything! It’s true — you don’t think of anything but running up and down the roads. However, your father’s marriage should give you something to worry about. It’s a real calamity for us all. Serag, my brother, our peace is threatened, don’t you understand?”
“Then you really believe in this marriage?”
“Certainly I believe it. Your father insists on it, if only for spite. It’s a long time since he’s annoyed someone, and now he can. I’m sure he’ll do it as soon as possible.”
He sat on the foot of the bed, pulling his legs under him, and buried his face in his hands. The shutters hadn’t been closed and a luminous day flooded the room. Rafik hated this cold light that enveloped him like a shroud.
“How can you sleep in that light?” he asked.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” said Serag. “I’m trying to get used to the day. I don’t want to live in the dark.”
Rafik sighed and didn’t answer. His face in his hands, he seemed to meditate. He hadn’t yet recovered from his attempt upon Hoda and a vague excitement persisted in him. Serag looked at him with amused sympathy. He realized Rafik was fighting against sleep and was curious to know his reactions. Would he be able to hold out long? He had never seen his brother exert such an effort against the poisons of sleep. It was like a miracle — a miracle of a man suspended above a precipice, holding himself in the air by his will alone.
“What do you plan to do?”
Rafik uncovered his face, blinked, and said in a sarcastic tone:
“If I’m awake at this hour, my dear Serag, it’s not for my own pleasure, believe me. It’s a question of not letting Haga Zohra in the house. Without her help, your father will never be able to get married. It’s very simple. Thus, as you see, I’m waiting for Haga Zohra, to throw her out.”
“Then you’re going to spend your time waiting for her?”
“Yes, I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
“But this could last for months.”
“All right! I’ll wait months — years even — if I have to.”
“You’re a hero!” said Serag. “I didn’t think you were capable of such a sacrifice.”
“This sacrifice is going to save our lives,” said Rafik. “You can’t imagine what it would be like to have a woman around us. In a few days we’d be reduced to slavery.”