The little girl took the peas, then went off, swinging her thin hips. A few yards away she turned and smiled at Serag.
“What a business!” sighed Abou Zeid.
“Well, have you decided?” asked Serag.
“All right,” said Abou Zeid. “How much do you want for the books?”
“Give me what you like,” said Serag.
Abou Zeid thrust his hand under his robe, and drew out his dirty purse. He began counting the money. Serag already felt dizzy from his adventure.
XVI
It was almost noon when the child turned off the street into the alley. In the first house on his left he saw, bent over the window sill, a servant dusting a rug and he asked her the way. The servant pointed to the spot he was looking for and the child thanked her, then ran leaping on. It was at least the tenth person he had asked for Serag’s address.
When he arrived in front of the young man’s house, the child began to call, peering through the gate.
“Serag!”
No one answered him. Then, he stepped hack, made a little horn with his hands cupped around his mouth and again called with all his might.
After a moment, Serag opened the window of the dining room and looked into the alley. Suddenly he recognized little Antar, the child he had met two months ago in the fields, hunting birds with a slingshot. He was dressed for summer, that is, he was naked or almost naked. A sort of loincloth made of some filthy stuff covered his sex. His shaven head was now decorated with short thick hair. He hadn’t changed much; only the look in his wild eyes testified to a deeper suffering.
“Wait a minute,” Serag called, “I’m coming.”
He left the house quickly and found the child, who was already amusing himself by throwing rocks in the windows of the neighboring houses.
“Stop that! You’ll hurt someone!”
“Oh! I was only having some fun,” the child said.
Serag put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, and they started walking along the side of the road. The sun shot down its implacable rays everywhere; a torrid heat hung over all the countryside and over the length of the dusty roads. Serag and the child took refuge in the shade of a tree.
“I’m glad to see you again,” said Serag. “How are you?”
“Bad,” answered the child.
“You don’t hunt birds anymore?”
“No. I sold my slingshot.”
“Then what do you do now?”
“I’m unemployed,” the child said.
He blew his nose and wiped it with his fingers, then turned his head away and was silent.
Serag was saddened to see his young friend reduced to this painful extremity; he didn’t know how to show his sympathy. After a while, he asked:
“And your box, have you found your box?”
“No,” said the child. “I haven’t found it.”
“You haven’t seen the boy again who stole it from you?”
“He’s dead,” said the child a little bitterly.
“How do you know?”
“I just do! He’s dead I tell you.”
Pressed by the greatest need, young Antar had come to see Serag. His diverse pursuits in the field of vagabondage were no longer very brilliantly successful. His luck was giving out; he was reduced to idle begging. In his misfortune he had thought of Serag and told himself that perhaps he could visit the unfinished factory with him. He had no doubt he would collect a few milliemes for his trouble.
He attempted a disinterested air:
“You don’t want to go see the factory?”
“No,” said Serag. “I don’t think about the factory anymore. Besides, it’s always the same. No one dreams of finishing it. It’s a ruin.”
“Then you don’t want to work any longer?”
“Oh, yes!” said Serag. “Only I’ve decided to go look for work in the city. You did well to come today. I’ll need you.”
Serag had fixed his departure from the house for that evening, after dinner. He had in his pocket the ten piastres Abou Zeid had paid him for the books, and he had no doubt of the success of his escape. The appearance of the child was an unexpected stroke of luck; above all he must not lose him as before. In that unknown maelstrom of the great city, the child would be a much-needed guide. He possessed useful resources; he would help him in his search for work.
“You know the city well?” he asked.
“There’s nobody anywhere who knows the city as well as I do,” the child answered. “I know the smallest alleys and all their beggars.”
“That’s fine,” said Serag. “I’m sure you’ll be able to help me find some work.”
“What kind of work?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I advise you not to look for it,” said the child.
“Why not?” asked Serag.
“Because you might find it.”
“Well?”
“Well, that would be terrible for you.”
“Not at all,” said Serag. “Listen. Right now I’ve got a little money. And I plan to leave tonight for the city. Do you think you can meet me there?”
“Where? It’s a big city you know!”
“Wherever you like. You choose the place.”
The child scratched his head and thought a minute.
“I’ll wait for you under the statue of the Renaissance,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yes,” Serag answered. “I remember. It’s near the railway station.”
“Right. I’ll wait for you there, tonight, around nine o’clock.”
“Agreed,” Serag said. “Goodbye!”
“Aren’t you going to give me anything for my trouble?” asked the child.
“Excuse me,” Serag said. “I forgot.”
“I’ll get things ready,” the child said. “If only I didn’t have any debts!”
Serag went back to the house, his heart filled with joy and pride. He was sure he represented a new kind of man — the man of the future — and he was already smiling at the thought of the victories he would score against the abject world of the idle.
That evening, during dinner, he could scarcely control his impatience. The meal dragged along with disheartening slowness. It seemed as though Hoda deliberately tried to postpone the moment of departure. She ate slowly, taking an infinite amount of time to gather the plates and remove the cloth. She moved about like an automaton, with an absent air, a frozen smile on her lips. However, she must leave with him. Serag had finally allowed himself to be convinced; Hoda was going to accompany him on his marvelous adventure. But she didn’t seem at all excited by the approach of the departure, which meant to Serag the beginning of a new life, full of unpredictable dangers. Her stupid indifference aggravated the young man’s nervousness; from time to time he gave her a furtive look, charged with pleas, to beg her to hurry. But Hoda did not appear to understand.
Only Rafik had noticed the anxiety of his young brother.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” Serag said.
“I hope that from now on you’re going to calm down and not upset yourself with these wretched scenes about escape and work. We can live happily now and sleep to the end of our days. At last we’re rid of that accursed marriage! And you owe it all to me.”
“To hell with the marriage,” said Serag.
“You thankless child! Look at him, Galal my brother! The ingratitude of this child wounds my heart. We ought to kill him! With such a spirit in the house we can never find tranquility.”
But Galal seemed too cast down to answer. His head between his hands, he leaned on the table, staring at the plate of food before him with eyes scarcely opened. He didn’t even have enough energy to eat. Rafik was used to his eldest brother’s characteristic air of heavy discouragement, but his present attitude was somewhat alarming; it seemed to prophesy evil times.