“What’s the matter? Why don’t you eat? You seem more depressed than usual. Is that mouse keeping you awake again?”
“It isn’t the mouse,” said Galal, “It’s Father. My dear Rafik, I’ve just had a veritable catastrophe.”
“What did Father do to you?” Rafik asked.
“He kept me awake all day!” replied Galal. “My word, he’s a criminal!”
“When was this? Today?”
“I don’t know,” Galal said. “Maybe it was today; perhaps it was a few days ago. It doesn’t matter, I’m completely exhausted.”
“What did he want?” said Rafik. “He came down to your room to see you? I can hardly believe it.”
“No,” said Galal. “He didn’t come down to my room to see me. That would have been less terrible. But he sent me this man without a heart” — he nodded his head toward Uncle Mustapha — “who harassed me until I finally had to go upstairs with him. He had promised to carry me on his shoulders, but he scarcely helped me. It was a long torture.”
“What a story! But you haven’t told me yet what Father wanted.”
“I think it had something to do with a murder. He asked me to lecture you about it, and to tell you not to forget he is the master. It seems that you wanted to kill Haga Zohra?”
“Oh! Was that all!”
“I forgot to congratulate you,” said Galal.
“It isn’t worth the trouble,” said Rafik. “From now on that fat businesswoman won’t dare come up here. Let her arrange her marriages in hell!”
“We owe you eternal gratitude,” said Galal. “My dear Rafik, you’re a hero!”
“You’re nothing but an ill-mannered boy,” interrupted Uncle Mustapha, who, during this time, had been eating quietly, his face set and dignified. “You have done an enormous injustice to our reputation. Haga Zohra will go everywhere peddling what you’ve done. What will people say?”
“I piss on all the people,” said Rafik.
“What a scandal for our family!” said Uncle Mustapha.
Serag feared a long dispute, but Rafik let his uncle’s exclamation go unanswered; he only gave a mocking smile. No doubt his success in ridding them of the menace of old Hafez’s marriage had made him more indulgent. He seemed to have recovered his calm and was eating heartily. But after a moment he looked at his uncle, and couldn’t resist the desire to unleash one last pleasantry.
“Uncle Mustapha,” he said, “I allow you to give my father, the title of Bey. He deserves it. With a hernia like his, he could easily be a minister of state.”
“How dare you talk like that about your father!” said Uncle Mustapha. “What are you saying about a hernia. You have no shame!”
“Uncle Mustapha,” said Rafik, “you aren’t going to tell me that you pretend my father hasn’t a hernia?”
“On my honor, I didn’t know. Now you’ve begun making up ugly stories about your father!”
“But it was he who told me,” said Galal.
“I didn’t say anything to you,” said Uncle Mustapha indignantly. “You’re all spoiled. Your father is tired of your disobedience. He has informed me he plans to leave you alone here and retire to his estate.”
“Heaven he praised!” said Rafik. “Is he really going to do it?”
“At last we can sleep.” said Galal.
Uncle Mustapha had purposely lied in order to give an impression of intimacy with old Hafez. He hadn’t realized that such news would please his nephews, and that it would even arouse their enthusiasm. But it was too late to retract. He tried to save the situation by taking refuge in an enigmatic silence.
“Come,” said Rafik. “Tell us the truth, Uncle Mustapha.”
“There’s nothing else to say,” said Uncle Mustapha. “I’ve told you all I know. You can believe me if you want to.”
“How can we not believe you?’ said Rafik. “Uncle Mustapha, you’re the genius of this house.”
“I forgive you for what you did to me the other day,” said
Galal. “Only, don’t begin again.”
Now Hoda was clearing the table; they were all getting up to go back to their respective beds. Serag waited and watched them leave, then he also got up and shut himself in his room.
An hour later, he slipped furtively out of the house and hurried down the side of the road. Hoda was waiting for him in a shadowy corner, dressed up as if for a promenade. In the dimness
that enveloped her, she seemed shrunken; her face, unskillfully painted, looked like the image of a candy doll. She had been waiting, peaceful and resigned, but when she saw Serag she ran to meet him.
“What made you drag like that?” said Serag. “By Allah! I thought we’d never finish dinner.”
“I did my best,” said Hoda.
“Well, let’s go,” said Serag.
“Kiss me first,” said Hoda.
Serag kissed her, then took her hand and they started down the road. First they walked rapidly, then, little by little they slackened their pace, stopped for a moment, looked at each other and smiled. The night was clear, and the sky resplendent, spilling over with stars so real and so close that it seemed one could pluck them like ripe fruit. A fresh wind swept the countryside, bringing the odor of herbs and, from the distance, the acrid and violent odor of the great city. Serag breathed this wind of conquering liberty with delight. He felt it on his face; he felt it on his hands, and it seemed to revive him as though he had just come out of a grave. An immense joy floated through him; he turned to the young girl.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
‘Yes,” Hoda said. “I’m happy to be with you.”
“At last, I’ll be able to work,” Serag said.
He was exulting in the thought of the effort he was about to undertake. He was going to share the destiny of humanity and participate in the boiling energies that governed the world. His life would be sterile no longer. A daring existence, full of the unpredictable, awaited him. He was impatient to get to the city.
“Try to find a job that isn’t too tiring,” said Hoda.
“Why, girl? On the contrary, I’ll look for the most difficult work.”
“You’ll get sick.”
“I won’t get sick. What do you take me for, girl? I can do any kind of work.”
Hoda reflected.
“You could be a cab driver,” she said.
“No,” said Serag. “That isn’t a serious job.”
“It’s very serious and, at the same time, very amusing,” said Hoda. “All day long you only have to run around in a car. You could take me along with you.”
“Be quiet,” said Serag. “I don’t want to. It’s not serious at all. You call that a job; to sit down all day driving a cab. I want real work, do you understand?”
“It’s too bad,” said Hoda. “You could have taken me with you. I’m so fond of driving in a car.”
“What are you thinking about, girl? Let’s be serious. We aren’t here to amuse ourselves.”
“So much the worse,” said Hoda. “Do what you like.”
They had just passed the last houses and now found themselves alone on the road, surrounded by the vast countryside and the threatening sounds of distant perils. Serag looked at the road in front of him; it lost itself in infinity, a long line of flickering street lamps. He slackened his pace and seemed to hesitate before the enormous effort of accomplishment. His exaltation had suddenly disappeared and he began to feel a treacherous regret in the depths of his heart. The warm peacefulness of his father’s house, from which he had just fled to run after tempting adventures was still too attached to his whole being for him to forget it easily. The subtle threads, made of torpor and the inexpressible joys of sleep, held him to the destiny he wished to betray. He had been insane to think he was different from them, and pledged to the grotesque and boring efforts of men. All that was nothing but puerile vanity. He began to think with terror of the evil pitfalls of the great city.